horror

13 m i r r o r s

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13

13 Mirrors in the dark
Single candle flame
Flickering shadows come alive
Cold touch upon your flesh
Gazing at reflections deep into your mind
One by one, the masks come forth
Melting into one, the reflection resonance
From the corners of your eyes...

Etch the symbol on the glass with The sinister Horns
The portal opens wide
Pouring forth from the frame
They have been called from beyond
The Grave or The Gates of Hell
Necromancy, Demonology
By The Books, burning words upon the page...

Tapping on the glass, scratching at the window
The feeling of dread
The Presence arrives
They are here, they are here!

13 Mirrors in each room
13 Mirrors reflect doom
13 eyes to watch you
Passing through the pane
Will you join them on the other side...? 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

There are 13 mirrors within each of the 13 rooms in Blackthorne Manor. Each serve as a veritable Portalways for either Demonic summoning, necromantic communication, or clairevoyant devices for Witchcraft. Inscribing The Pentagram thereupon the glass itself activates these for these purposes, which can then operate as a two-way communication oracle as well as pathway.

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13 r o o m s

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13

Beneath the 13th Moon...
13th Moon
13 rooms, 13 graves, 13 ghosts, 13 mirrors, 13 spiders on the wall
13 Goblets, 13 tables, 13 shadows arise
The Séance brought them nigh, on that 13th night
13 Windows of infernal light
Passing through your eyes, into the soul, becoming one
The spiderwebs tell the story
13 Dimensions, reflections of another timeless now

13 clocks, 13 chimes, one for each room
Summoning Them forth
13 Demons unleashed on the 13th ring
Echoing through The House
13 drops of blood
13 signs, Black Dragon rise
Show Thy face, Mighty One!
Through the portal's way! 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The entire House and the shadowy occupants have become a veritable lightning rod for demonic activity, and the mathemagics of 13 resplendant throughout, attracts dark energies and opens portals to Hell.

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Echo of a shadow

Echo of a shadow

By jfarrell

 

I am just the echo of a shadow;

Out of the night I jump at you,

Translucent, ghostly faces,

The mist caught by the moonlight.

The body that wore this face,

Long dead.

 

As the breeze moves amongst the leaves,

You hear my cries of joy,

Howls of frustration,

Cries of torment and agony.

The voice that sang my words,

Long silent.

 

Condemned a witch and sentenced to burn,

Here, where you stand,

I am long turned to dust

Part of the very ground beneath you.

My soul, that burns for revenge,

Still burns.

 

I am the echo of the shadow;

The shadow that dwells within your soul.

You are here because I call to you,

Blood of my blood, through the ages.

I surrender to you my witchcraft, my magic,

Now, go forth and unleash my vengeance.

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

loved NIN's "copy of a copy"

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Across an empty hall

Across an empty hall

By jfarrell

 

My footsteps echo around me,

Ricocheting off the walls

To assault me

Like the voices of the long dead assembled.

 

The people, memories, who crossed this hall

Long before me;

Leaving fragments of themselves

To dwell here forever.

 

As the moonlight shafts in through the window,

The dust eddys and grows

To take on the very likenesses

Of those who went before me.

 

Black and grey shadows beckon and caution me;

I can almost hear them whisper

“This way, come.” “No, that way’s danger.”

Dread hangs in the air, enveloping me.

 

Startled by a tap-tap-tapping

I see a raven a rap-rap-rapping

In the middle of this empty hall

Dedicated to Lenore.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

when this poem started, e a poe was million miles from my mind ; just seemed right for him to pop up at the end there

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They

They

By jfarrell

I know they’re following…

I glance in the shop window..

Yes, him, dark glasses, dark suit…

Alien hair growing from the ear…

….DON’T fall for the ‘radio/microphone’ chat…

Uh! Uh! Buddy!

Alien hair….

Ron L Hubbard was so………….. close….

But, no, not lizards.

 

I scoot up the next street,

Run like f**k and hang a right…

Out of sight,

Dive right

And just lie down…

Dead….

Don’t move…

Don’t make a sound…

 

….just pray….

Even if you don’t believe,

In anything….

You’re gonna pray….

“don’t see me, don’t see me don’t see me don’t see me don’t see me don’t see me don’t seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…………

 

I lost them.

CLICK!

…... or not….

Author's Notes/Comments: 

dragons live among us ;-)

From the depths

From the depths

By jfarrell

 

In my dreams, the oceans sing to me;

Their words carried by the wind,

And blown into mist,

As I wake.

 

Walking around;

Always feeling I’m missing something;

I forgot something; that cringe in the back of my neck;

Something follows me.

 

The statues; the art; the idols;

The pornographic images of pain and suffering;

The fresh blood I kneel in;

The knife in my hand.

 

Cthulhul envelopes me and comforts me;

And in her embrace, I know They love me;

Are grateful for my sacrifice.

And I know I must continue.

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

i just had to write something inspired by lovecraft, i can feel the hannibal lector tearing to get out :-)

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national poetry day

 

 National Poetry Day

By jfarrell

 

 

 

KEEP RUNNING!

The stinking tendrils of ancient decayed flesh envelope you,

Engulf you in a nicotined-coloured fog;

Your devil has arrived, demanding payment.

              - horror

 

The moment I saw her face;

It was like a thousand rainbows shone;

All the stars of the heavens bursting into life again

My heart was hers. I would die for her.

                    -romance

 

There was a miserable sod, wrought from Bermondsey;

Dark clouds, thunder; all his life followed he;

But, when to ‘Wales’ he went,

A promised holiday was the event;

A ‘pain in the bum’ was all he received.

                -limerick

 

My madness has made me a god,

Or, maybe, I’m just a conceited sod.

                   - couplet

 

In the shadows, I watch and I learn;

The deep longing within me burns;

To love one, such as you;

And I know my love would be true.

                -rhyming

 

Why poems?

I offer five reasons, five themes, five experiences;

Today is National Poetry Day.

Thank you for coming. Please enjoy your stay :-)

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

happy national poetry day :)

It

It

By jfarrell

 

(stephen King’s ‘IT’ - one of the best books ever written)

 

It doesn’t go bump in the night, and you know it;

And you know it isn’t under your bed or in the closet;

 

You can smell it’s foulness right behind you;

You feel it’s breath on the back of your neck

 

The hand slides over your shoulder, like a caress;

Then grips you, like a vice

 

You stumble to your knees, in terror

And see the darkest shadow tower over and engulf you

 

Caught; no escape

“Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served.”

 

 

 

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Welcome to the Dark

Welcome to the Dark

By jfarrell

 

Roll up! Roll up!

Right here;

Is this seat comfortable enough?

Please keep your arms, legs and head in the car.

Are you ready? …. twinkling, charming, innocent smile

…... (whispered) Let’s go!

 

….(with a hushed, suppressed excitement)

Ladies and Gentlemen, let me thank you for choosing Jim’s Tours,

My name is Jim and I am your tour guide tonight.

But, enough about me, you’re here for Dark;

Hope you’re not screamish :)

 

On your left, police tape, long dead baby in the attic;

Look right, rapist uncle, lying dead with his throat cut;

Left, just under the bridge, a terrible ghost

This is where my mum should be hanging;

But she’s not dead. Yet.

 

…..tour guide collapses, but quickly staggers up, uncertain;

Oh my; wot horror; right next door;

His neighbours, 8 christian souls, innocent and pure;

All with their throats cut and drowned in petrol;

But, not burnt. Yet.

 

Please DON’T be sick in the car; over the edge please;

Are you sure you want to see THE bedsit? Where it happened?

No, you’re not a sicko - you’re here for the…

Waking middle of the night with a lit cigarette

So close to your eye it stings with the heat.

 

It’s your turn tonight, in the children’s home, with this wacko;

He’s bored; so, tonight, it’s your turn to burn, again and again;

Arms; legs; chest;

Tell who? My keyworker who is trying to groom me for abuse?

The pornography he’s giving me, suggests he wants more then ‘friends’.

 

Or, the park behind the library, that summer;

That one day, school holiday;

Playing hide and seek with friends

And seeing what happened to that poor woman.

The punches. The kicking.

 

…. tour guide takes out walkie talkie;

It’s Jim, get the wake up and cleaning crew again, please

This place stinks of sick

And my tourists have passed out;

Again.

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

i'll see you on the dark side of the moon

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