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My eyes snap open, squinting in the sudden light. The blazing white light burns directly into my eyes, sending blurry streaks of yellow spiralling across my vision.
...The end was near now, I could tell. The spider was just inches from my face, clicking and burring as though talking.
Open my chest and rip it free, Hold it, in your hands, the life of me. Pull it out and squeeze it tight, Ignore the pleas, the cries of my plight.
I watch from the rooftop. Crouched down in the darkness. Claws at the ready. Waiting to pounce. My victim wanders along the street below me. Mid twenties, with cropped, dark hair and an athletic...
#OpussWings I had been sat in the chair for an age. Straps at my limbs, like a cage. Matted hair and whitewashed walls, Other experiments' screams and calls.
#TheOpussDead 20th Jan. 2002 Dear Mother, He's wonderful. Our beautiful baby boy. He's called Carter, after dad. Carter John McKeown.
Feeling it Take a hold With my skin Turning cold. My skin flaking Beginning to decay As my cherished memories Slowly slip away.
As the virus takes hold. I feel my blood burn. Coursing through my veins. Anger starting to build. Fever breaking out. The wound on my arm. Alive and weeping. My limbs are on fire. Eyes blood shot.
The spider could see me now, I knew it could. I could feel its eight beady black eyes fixed on me. I daren't move through fear of bringing it closer.
She's baaaaaaaaaaccckk. A warbled scream echoed down the hall. Risen from a shallow grave, back to kill us all.
It was only the second day but The Regulator’s grey stone exterior was already covered in dried blood, drenched in the war paint of his kills.
Running for hours, constantly changing, my flesh undulating and cracking. Adapting. Evolving. I dare not slow, I must escape. I must survive. Many horrors I pass, dead and dying litter the ground.
At a nearby family restaurant, Laverne sat in a corner booth with her two small children. She ordered a generous meal for herself which she informed the waitress she intended to share with her brood.
Now I'm not ususlly one for writing gory poetry, but I must stress, if you are easily disturbed by this sort of thing, please don't read on, as this is something that has ACTUALLY happened to me,...
I often write my dreams if I can remember them well. I'm very interested in symbolic interpretations... There is no category for dreams on Opuss, so I listed this one under film.
Blood spilling, feral screams, chaotic madness. I pay attention to none. I sit alone in a bathroom stall, locked away from a hellish nightmare. Hand clutches neck, blood stains dress.
He stripped himself naked, beneath the pale moon. The cold exciting his skin. He knew the change was upon him soon. He knew soon the change would begin.
Awakened. So dark. I feel like I'm in the coffin. Something is on my face. I took it. It's a cloth. Something is really wrong. I thought, I'll awake in the hell. So. Where I am.
As I lay here quietly breathing, The quiet night outside perceiving, My eyes upon the ceiling wide in fear; The house below is still, With no sound to break the chill, Save the blood within my heart...
Rumplestiltskin was a goblin, who lived underneath an oak. A sickly grey looking fellow, who very rarely spoke.
According to all sources on weather, today was supposed to be awful.
"She's perfect," Jonah enthused, staring at Jupiter as her body lay on the table. "Give me the needle." he demanded, outstretching his hand. "Here ya go, boss." a Capter said nonchalantly.
A dark, foul taste filled my mouth. I didn't know what was going to happen but I knew it wasn't going to be good. Nightshade, nightshade. Why could I remember nothing else.
I'd quit my search for Anusol in the supermarket aisles, And hobbled to a pharmacist’s to seek balm for my piles, But when they saw my sorry state it was straight to the GP, They’d phoned ahead to...