Tim put down his backpack
Listened like a mouse
The only sound that he could hear
In all the silent house
Was just a little scratching
Inside the basement door
And when he listened long enough
He heard a little more
A sigh and then a whisper
A voice that said his name
He said aloud “Missy?”
His sister ne’er came
He walked to the basement
His hand turned the knob
He opened it up rapidly
His action sealed the job
The wraith within was soiled, wet and dank
A creature born of death
A child’s corpse, yet fully mobile
Drowned in a flood, watery breath
It grasped his hair, clutched at a hank
Pulled him down the stair
The door shut tight, oh gods how it stank
His screams they filled the air
His mother sang in the shower
Towel died her feet
Smelled of a flower
Went downstairs, and cursed his wet shoes

Sighed at the silence

Headed for the booze

Posted from WordPress for Android by that guy that runs the place

The Wyrm

Phillip was five when he first saw the wyrm
He found it behind the woodshed
White as a sheet, tiny, laying so still
Phillip was sure it was dead
Reached down and he poked it aside
It moved shot like a toothed rubbed band
He screamed and he ran to his mother inside
But no mark could be seen on his hand

Phillip was twelve when he next saw the wyrm
By now it was long as his arm
Down by the creek near the sandbagged flood berm
A weak albino thing’d do no harm
So brave as a boy twice his age, twice his size
He pick it up neat with a stick
Sunlight flashed in it’s cataracted pink sightness eyes
And it bit his arm neatly and quick

By twenty-five, incidents wore from his mind
He’d wiped them from his memory
Returning home when in financial bind
Wandered to lay ‘neath old tree
Watching the clouds in sun dappled shade
A warm thickness slid across his legs
He tried to stand up though his strength it did fade
His limbs little good more than pegs

And the albino wyrm rose level with his head
It opened it’s mouth, nary sound
And it swallowed him whole, live, vision it went red
Then it borrowed back under the ground
When Phillip awoke he was cold, he was wet
Nothing to see, merely sound
And he wriggled and writhed, cloaked in grassy damp net
He a wyrm newly borne of the ground

100 Things I Like – Part 1

In no particular order, things I really like (no people):

1.  Watermelon
2.  Good Quality Chocolate
2.  Twenty-four hour, non-drowsy, allergy medication
3.  Cats
4.  Hoodies
5.  Horror short fiction that is scary, not just hack and slash gore
6.  Lists
7.  Coffee (good coffee)
8.  Football (both kinds, country AND western)
9.  Watches
10.  Snakes

More to come…

Posted from WordPress for Android by that guy that runs the place