I am super excited about one of my stories from The Other Side of Despair being featured on the latest podcast episode of Random Transmissions. This podcast is super cool and you should go and check out all the episodes!
Tag Archives: Horror Story
The cover of the first book I wrote (Intertwined in Limbo) had absolutely nothing to do with any story in the book. The firm that created the cover just used a picture that was “ghostly”. So I decided to write a poem that told her story.
The White Lady
Little Mason Morbid was a melancholy lad
While the other kids were playing, he sat brooding, looking sad
His cloths were black and gray and his heart was a hole
And the only thing ‘twas darker than his mind was his soul
On the thirteenth of the month he would adjourn unto a tomb
In an old forgotten graveyard under darkness of the gloom
He’d commence to crank the handle of a tiny music player
And then the strains of Moonlight Sonata would drift upon the air
Somewhere from the blackness an apparition would appear
A radiant diaphanous figure who was draped in gossamer
She would float about the graves as little Mason Morbid crooned
“White Lady, white lady, tell me of your doom.”
“It was in the dead of winter and the snow was falling down
Like little drops of clouds to form a blanket on the ground.
The people of the village were all huddled with each other
And the young Reverend Smithe had stopped by to pray for Mother.”
“He sat and read his Bible and then he joined us in our meal
Then he told my worried Father how his faith would help her heal.
He was smitten by my beauty and I was taken by his charm
Before I knew what happened, he had lured me to the barn.”
“The passions of the flesh overcame the strictures of the mind
The reverend’s Puritan values gave way to pleasures for a time.
I was left defiled and the guilt would take its toll
Darkness and depression were like weights upon my soul.”
“Consumed by misery and ashamed for being so beguiled
But the real scandal was when I found that I was with child.
And all about the gossip started that descended upon me
The Reverend Smithe could not be charged, it must be sorcery.”
“They drug me through the village with curses that were vile,
Accused me of witchcraft and held a mockery of a trial.
And so it was, betrayed, abused and blighted in the soul,
I was made to pay the reverend’s sin on the rope of the gallows’ pole.”
Little Mason Morbid heaved a heavy sigh of grief
The White Lady’s tragedy was sad beyond belief
He watched her go back to her grave then he mused aloud,
“Life is futile and so unfair, and we are wrapped within her shroud.”
The Will-O’-The-Wisp
Lying listless on a lonely, loam lake shore
Framed by fog and the bitter, brine bog air
Curse the cruel fangs of fate that flung me here
My body beaten down by the black brood of despair
T’would take a thousand years to tell the tale
Of the madness, misery, and mischievous calamity
And I pray not ponder upon my past hell
Lest I beat my brain from my brow in insanity
Then lo, I spy through the gloom a green, glowing globe
Floating, flying, bouncing, and bobbing right at me
Too weak to worry with rising to run
I anxiously await its arrival and abhor the agony
What would it want with a wretch with no will?
Then it howled by my head and halted and hovered
And an enigmatic energy possessed my person
Slowly sinking; subsumed, consumed and now covered
Ode to the Moon
Come join us, won’t you?
Take part
With festive heart
With dancing feet
To a restless beat
Sing
An ode to the Moon
A plump, pudgy, corpulent Moon
The kind that makes lovers swoon
Just right for a honeymoon
Makes ocean tides swell
Drives wolves to yell
The kind that silhouettes a witch
Or makes a lycanthrope twitch
Oh fullest Moon
So golden clad
So voluminous
So luminous
Yet daytime hath forbad
So magisterial
So ethereal
To it magic cannot add
How is it that you drive
A sane man mad?
The Haunters of Autumn
Oh how they cower in dark little places
Fear etches haunted looks on their faces
They scamper and scurry to avoid the light
Only come out to play under cover of night
Their eyes glow like candles flickering in wind
And the rustling of leaves is the sound of their skin
You cannot catch them for they’ve already fled
They cannot be killed for they’re already dead
You’ll hear them whisper from shadowy wood
As the Haunters of Autumn send chills through the blood
The airs of October carry their voices
Half-heard gigglings and other strange noises
A whisper behind you that drifts through the air
Tells you their presence is about you somewhere
What are these creatures that haunt the gloom
Mocking and stalking with portents of doom?
The woods are alive with their tittering taunts
You walk alone on one of your nightly jaunts
Hearing your shrieks over the darkening plane
As the Haunters of Autumn leave you cold and insane
