By The River Running

Don’t you understand honey?” She said, trying to sound helpful. “They’re taking it all down all of it all the trees the river the forest, they’re already bulldozing it down.” I ran, bushes and leaves slapping against my legs. A bird took flight from its hiding place, calling out with an ugly voice. “Raven.” My … More By The River Running

Eyes Closed Tight

Darkness fell outside my bedroom. I watched as lines of lamplight stretched across the walls of my room, throwing bizarre shadows into every corner. “Good night.” Said, mom, as she kissed our foreheads. My brother and I murmured our love into the night as sleep filled our consciousness. Our lamp glowed red, giving off the … More Eyes Closed Tight

Chip, Crack, Crash

Chip, crack, crash. We break the ice, jagged and clear. Washing our hands from blood through the years. Chip, crack, crash. Our work here will never be done. Eternal frost and broken bones. Chip, crack, crash. We are buried beneath an unending load. Backs bent, skin slick with sweat and liquid ice. Chip, crack, crash. … More Chip, Crack, Crash

The Parking Garage

“Hello?” Judy called into the night. Her brow furrowed at the now pressing silence as she looked from side to side. The parking lot was dimly lit, revealing an entire level completely devoid of cars. There had been an echo of her own footsteps in the garage, but a discordant sound had rung out, breaking … More The Parking Garage

Carmine Octavo

Let the blight and rot come forth, Beneath this Yew Wood deep. We bring forth a pestilence and plague, With our hands so keen. For now as we gather strength, Our quarry rears it’s head. Cover them with torment unending, as the sickness seeps in deep. For we will prevail in our dark pursuits, We … More Carmine Octavo

Grandmother Agnes

“Careful there, young master!” Crooned a voice issuing from a throat harsh with age. The very air shivered at the sound. Martin shook sandy blond curls from an apple-cheeked face as he stopped on the muddy lane. The young boy turned around, looking back down the rain-soaked pathway. There, limping between wagon ruts that ran deep … More Grandmother Agnes

Septima Naeniam

  Drag the yew wood ’round the fire, Turn the stones dry side down. Pluck the wormwood from its sheath, And drive it underground. Call for the beetle and the grub, The pestilence now will come. Pick the bones clean, Begin the fun. -M.E. InkOwl

Witch Daughter’s Flight

Bells tolled in the twilight their cracked and aged mounting protesting with shrieks unheard above the clamoring din. “Hurry child they won’t be long! You’ve got to flee from this home!” Aunt Harriett’s face was flushed with panic as she pulled Cher’s from the icebox and wrapped a warm loaf into Meredith’s bag. “But Aunt, … More Witch Daughter’s Flight

The Barrow-Wight

Do not speak, oh naive child, You do not know of what you say. It hears you even now in jest, laughing at Its name. But the day will come when you are alone and in the darkness deep. You’ll hear the purr, and feel Its breath as Its teeth sink into your flesh. So … More The Barrow-Wight