Tag Archives: kill

Inspired by Nox Arcana – Take 1

We’ve found thee

Little mortal

We surround thee

Whispers in the wind cry unto thee

Our names are zephyr, breath and air

We will guide thee

Don’t be scared

Little mortal

Thou fain to see

The terrors that dost follow thee

Keep away from the water’s edge

And we’ll keep thou safe

The winds we pledge

Turn not away from our winsome calls

Turn back to us or thou shall fall

The cliffs are rendering nearer and near

Be warned little one

Dost thou hear?

Nay, ye do not and now you fall

Into ice cold waters creating a crimson pool

But we don’t give up

Nay not us

We’ll call to mankind from dusk till dawn

Never ceasing

Never forlorn

It is our duty

It is our pride

We are the winds and we are the tides

And our voice we never hide

 

Inspired by Nox Arcana after listening to their music from the album “carnival of lost souls”-“cries in the night”.  This is something that I pictured when hearing the music and I put it into a prose.

 

 

 

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Filed under Short Story Series

Beware the desert

The deserts are for the wretched, the fading and the numb

The deserts are for hiding if you are lowlife scum

The deserts they will make you parched

The deserts they will kill

The deserts are not friendly

And they never ever will

The deserts are for the lonely

The deserts are for the damned

The deserts are not for sheep

And the deserts are not for lambs

The desert is and always be

A place to test your mortality

A place to die

A place to cease

A place for hindrance

And decrease

Do not go there

Not alone

Not with someone

It’s dry as bone

The desert is quite empty

Of that you can be assured

The desert is a death trap

Your death will be procured

But if you insist

Then goodbye my friend

Into the sandy depths you’ll lie

For I am done convincing you

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye

 

 

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Filed under Poems A - C

Spectral Vampire

I tiptoed through the shadows, stalking him and he didn’t know I was there. Light-footed, my steps traced the line of his footsteps down the darkened pathway towards the car-park; gently I called to him, nothing more than a whisper in the breeze of the night and he turned towards me, he didn’t see me at first, but then, just like a cat, I stealthily approached him and made my excuses to ask for directions to keep his guard down.
He came to me and leaned towards me, nodding at the map in my hands and pointing helpfully, but all I was interested in was clenching my thirst and hunger and grabbing at him around his neck and pulling him close to me. After I was sure he was in my grasp I did so and dropping the map that was in my hands I bit into his neck for the warm sweet juices that flowed within. I barely drank away half of his life until we were disturbed by something brash, violent and fast, coming out from the car-park at us with beams of painful light. The old jeep of my enemy Neil Porter swerved up behind my victim and ran out towards me, I instantly tried to flee the scene but he had a new weapon, something I wasn’t aware he had – a crossbow and it hit into me through the back and into my heart and before I knew it I was standing next to my broken shell, seeing it bleeding to death alongside my victim and my enemy cleaning up both the mess he made and the mess I made.
I was confused at first; watching him packing the bodies away into the back of his jeep, washing the blood on the car-park floor and praying for our souls.
I don’t know where I went after that, I don’t know if spirits sleep, I just went and came back again, nothing filling the gaps; this went on for a long time, each time I would arrive at the scene I last left, each time I would arrive as hungry as the night before and each time I would vanish into the ether of the unknown again and again and again.
I would like to tell you about the first night that I came back.
I came back to the car-park, confused at the new night, wondering where I went and how I got here again. Why here? That question never got answered. I walked through the car-park and across the pedestrian crossing and into the park, I sat on a bench for a while, collecting my thoughts. A few people walked passed me, but no one seemed to be able to see me, someone nearly sat on me that’s how I know. When this happened I felt a deep loss, a sense I had lost my self somehow, I knew I wasn’t whole anymore, I saw that yesterday, but I had hoped that death would have been kinder to me somehow.
My hunger grew to an unbearable level, standing up from the bench I walked further into the park and had hoped to go through to the gates at the other end of the park that lead me to the town’s most night friendly amenities, but I was stopped by some peculiar young girl, twenty something, sniffing the air, smiling and dancing like she was chasing butterflies and coming straight towards me. Right into the jaws of death, so it seemed.
Confused I watched her with both bafflement and caution as she laughed and spoke out loud to herself “Oh the lovely smell” and reaching up into the air trying to catch something invisible even to me! The hunger in me made me retch; I tried to ignore it, because I was dead right? Dead people don’t need to eat do they? So why have I got this hunger? Is this my eternal punishment? Am I in Hell? But the pain got too much; I took a chance that perhaps I can still feed in my spectral form? So, as her head was stretched up looking high around her I put my arm around her waist and lunged into her throat but I couldn’t feed on her blood, her body writhed in agony in my grasp, screaming, but her blood wasn’t soothing my hunger. I held her whilst she screamed, cried and bleed to death. Then I knew, I saw her life leave her and as I sniffed for her suffering, I breathed a little of her into myself and my hunger lessened. Her spirit was too fast for me to catch once I realised what it was that I now needed. How beautiful the feeling of peace was, when I breathed in her soul.
Shortly after a man came into the park and saw the girl lying in a pool of blood, he ran to her to see if she was OK and tried to raise an alarm, but I went to him and my scent side-tracked him from his alarm call as he stopped in mid-sentence and started to sniff the air dreamily around himself. I placed my hand over his nose and mouth and whispered comforting things to him whilst I suffocated him to death. He didn’t see me, he only felt and heard me. He died within minutes of oxygen deprivation and I kissed his life out of him and felt in paradise.
That’s when I knew that vampires don’t find peace. That’s when I knew that being a vampire I am truly eternal and that’s when I knew that nothing can be explained simply.

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Filed under Short Stories

The Wolf’s Rose

The night is chilled and the air is icy

Winter nips at your cheeks and nose

Wandering far into the forest, you are lost my little Rose

Simplicity doesn’t exist where complexity plays

A daring youth like you amaze me in all ways

Hark! Hear the sound of the midnight wolves

Playing a melody to attract lost fools

You follow their tune, blissfully ignorant of the dangers they bestow

And onwards you follow, and onwards you go

Through the nocturnal world you flounder

From tree to tree you flow

Further into the orchestra, into something you don’t know

Into the jaws of hunger

Into the mists of time

Into the raging beasts that are ready to dine

And now you’re here, cold in my arms

A little Rose you’ve been

And I have plucked you from the world and you’ll never again be seen

Not by mortal eyes no how and you’ll stay forever with me

No mortal shall hear your cries when you beg me for release

And now you’ve joined the shadow world

A place that’s made from fear

And you will sup upon mortal babes and breed with me more fear

And nothing shall stop your pain, when you can’t kill anymore

You’ll always give into the hunger and eat their flesh that’s raw

And I’ll be here for you always

My precious little one

To remind you of who it was, that hid you from the sun

Oh my little Rose, look at what you’ve become!

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Filed under Poems S - U

2.5 hours sleep

Having only 2.5 hours sleep last night, I am quite surprised at how my brain is on top form this morning; something that’s been a struggle for over eighteen months now.   I scored 821 points in online scrabble and I’ve written over one thousand words before noon that’s going to be published on my blog, this is a record for me as I tend to linger over one thousand words in a whole day that’s usually utter rubbish and will never be published anywhere.

The post I wrote for my blog will be published on the 8th August so keep an eye out for it as there is something in this post that will be the main theme for that day.

That is…

As a writer I procrastinate profusely because I am overloaded with more ideas that actually knuckling down to work. I get an average of two novel or short story ideas a day and I have over seven large files containing just ideas, some of these ideas have been with me since I was ten years old and they are so vast (as in an epic series) that I can’t actually believe that anyone would actually want to publish all that drivel without severely abridging my work (insert pained expression here).

One of the main reasons why I have been afraid of professional success has been that an editor will come along and say to me; “cut this out and this and this and this” and I will be standing there agape and aghast that they dare think that they are gods of my worlds! Demons of apocalypse, back away from my creations you heinous, cruel, heartless reapers of my poor innocent imaginary friends, BACK AWAY NOW! (Holds up baseball bat in defence of my many worlds). Oh, OK, maybe I can kill a few darlings as Stephen King would suggest in his book “On Writing”, but it will be painful and they will be mourned by no one else except for me. Damn being a writer is depressing.

Anyway, focusing back onto this subject – I’ve tried to force myself to concentrate on one main story for the last few years and you know what? I don’t think my brain can work that way. I think I need to have many stories on the go at once, I know when I used to be like that I was more productive as a whole and I was told by a college lecturer (of GCSE English Literature) that if I want to be a writer I should focus on one story at a time or else I will become confused and so will my readers. Actually thinking back I think this is bullshit because as a writer I do more than just write my work, I actually read my own work too and edit to the best of my ability – so what utter tosh.

Since 2002 I’ve been working on a fantasy comedy based around some drunk leprechauns, I have the beginning, middle and end, but I have got bored with it seven chapters on because of computer faults deleting most of it with corrupt files etc., after four occasions where this happens and you have no hard copies you get a little disheartened with the story and start to wonder if the story is bad luck, don’t you? Well I do.

Anyway, between writing the leprechaun comedy, I’ve been writing snippets for an epic vampire series – something I’ve been working on since I was ten years old, god I love vampires.

The vampire stories will never be neglected, they are always added to at least once a week, even if it’s just a sentence, they will never be forgotten, because to me, they are my family and I will defend these stories the most if I ever feel brave enough to trust them with a publisher.

Over the years, before I started to concentrate on just one or two, I had started two dystopian stories, a comedy about a female wrestler, a comic about a cat, a comic about a sex crazed astronaut nun, a comic about dominant women invading a planet for mates, a crazy millionaire woman who kills herself after committing murder, a novel about a plague survivor, cowboy vampires, and a console addict sucked into a computer world – to name but a few.

Some of those ideas I gave up because I found similar books or movies during the writing of them by accident and was concerned of plagiarism, but having original ideas is difficult – so therefore I may start some of them up again and do them anyway soon.

No matter what genre I write, I don’t think I can help but have some humour in my stories – I would not be at all surprised if I eventually get coined as a crossover author for horror, fantasy and comedy.

I am starting a horror novel today, based on the advice of my husband and the fact that I am enthusiastic about it and it’s fresh in my mind – so, here I go…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Filed under About my work

The facts in the case of the departure of Miss Finch by Neil Gaiman

The facts in the case of the departure of Miss Finch by Neil Gaiman

“The facts in the case of the departure of Miss Finch” was familiar to me in the sense that the scenery set was very alike to an old Hammer Horror movie I am very fond of called “The Vampire Circus”; though I am not suggesting that this story is a breach of copy-right, merely that the scenery was similar, for example; the movie was about a vampire count who fell in love with a local school-teacher and got her delivering her young pupils occasionally for his dietary needs, eventually she was discovered by her husband delivering a child and the vampire executed in the usual fashion and the woman outcast from the village. She was told formerly by the count that if they were ever discovered that she could contact a cousin of his on the other side of the country who were a traveling night time circus that advertises mesmerism; during the killing of the count, the count had threatened the lynch mob that if he should die, then so should all the children of the village. Many years past and the traveling night circus came and sought revenge for their cousin in the most innovative ways imaginable.

Some of their first victims were visitors of the circus; they entered a tent where they saw various acts and a hall of mirrors only for them never to return to their families alive. Though primarily the movie was about the circus seeking revenge, most of the other victims were seduced into giving up their lives, it was the burgomaster that died in the tent under suspicious circumstances; but because he was so incredibly fat, people presumed the fun and laughter of the hall of mirrors had caused him to succumb to a heart attack.

Similar acts happened in Neil Gaiman’s story, very captivating in more ways than one and a delight for me to read, particularly as not only was it so very similar to my most favorite Hammer Horror movie, but it was also read within a week of me finishing “The Night Circus” by Erin Morgenstern and “Emerald Star” by Jacqueline Wilson, which oddly enough have mesmerism and circus’s in their themes too – reading all was a fluke.

I do love stories that have carnival and circus themes to them, another story I read months before I read this Neil Gaiman classic was “The man in the picture” by Susan Hill.

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Filed under My inspirations

Bloodstained clothing

Blood stained clothing I wear for eternity; blood of my victims churn inside of me:

The hungers that exist and cannot hide form me.

I wish there was something better than this.

A monster I am that prowls the night in search of a victim who I can kill with a bite; to drain them of life and – of their blood supply so my thirst can quench for just another night.

Blood stained my clothing of a thousand years.

A dead creature is I, in my heart and in my mind.

For I forget the feelings of mercy and the feelings of woe, but now I have killed so much-those are things I have forgotten to know!

No longer human in heart or mind, a creature of the dark who is cruel and emotionally blind.

I kill with great ease my human meals and dine on their life’s blood from their neck with their squeals!

Their bodies flop down as I take them away from this world they have begun to know; and fill their loved ones with a gallon of woe.

Each night and when my meal is done, I go off back to my grave and sleep so numb.

Till the dusk has arrived then I come out to play, to take another human away.

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Filed under Poems A - C

The Wolf

Darkness has fallen and the moon arises to light his way from the sky.

Gently he walks in concealment with his dark and sly little eyes.

He tiptoes through the night forest crunching dead leaves underfoot; slowly he crawls like a stealthy, clever, hunting crook.

Sniffing the ground tracking the bait, to see what luck will have him take!

Which meal is he to find today?

Sniffing the paths of many preys!

The scent of live flesh gets stronger now and he eagerly prepares his snare.

There it is, back turned from the wolf, the prey doesn’t know that his there.

Slowly the night hunter creeps behind, ready to pounce and ready to dine.

The wolves jaw snaps round the neck sharp.

Tearing it to pieces without a heart!

Triumphant with his hunt, he calls!

Barking loudly about his Trawl, calling his family to dine with him, the flesh of the victim, it pleases him.

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Filed under Poems S - U

Who am I?

Know me and the way I am,

I am the ocean,

I am the sands

 I am the sky

 I am the birds,

I am the beast

 I am all words.

I can love and I can hate,

I can kill and create,

I am something and I am not,

I am cold and I am hot.

I am life and I am death,

I am the wine,

I am the bread.

I am wet and I am dry,

I am the hills,

who am I?..…God!

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Filed under Poems V - Z

ethical vampire

I once knew a vampire who couldn’t accept the kill

Always sat back thoughtfully, making himself ill

He called himself an ethical vampire

That all others should aspire, to refrain from the killing of mortal men

Yet to him I lift the pen

And wrote to him this

 

To kill for your nourishment may not be bliss, but read my words carefully and listen to this

There are beasts in the world that kill like you do, and mortal men eat meat just as you used to

Therefore what’s the difference, between now and then?  Other than the blood you take’s fresher

Is it because you’ve seen its life end?

 

He replied after a while and a letter I received

It said, thank you my dear for clarifying this fact

You’ve made me less anxious in the killing act

Now away I will go, into the night

I will now have my first guiltless bite

I never heard from him again, but I have heard from another vampire friend that he is quite well

And growing strong, and has always said he’ll remember me in fond

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Filed under Poems D - F