Poetry ~ Loathsome Lovers

Greetings and welcome to October!

As the light dims and darkness falls, I’ll be conjuring a constellation of dark poetry for your reading pleasure. My dark poetry series is a smidge spooky, often with a twist, and at times sprinkled with a dash of dark humor. In this dialogue poem we meet the loathsome lovers.

A day in the life…

Crestfallen, her tears obscured
the sound of his dark heart pounding.

“Your wretched tears are salt in
my wound,” he snarled.

“Then I shall weep for
all eternity,” she hissed.


“I’m going back to sleep!” he scowled.
 His coffin slammed shut.

Fuming, she set the coffin ablaze,
mounted her broom and flew off in a rage.

“I shall live to die another day!” he taunted.

Vampires and witches, loathsome lovers,
snarling and hissing throughout eternity
.

Friday Fictioneers: Vlad

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Hello October! In keeping with the season, I’ve written a flash fiction story for the Friday Fictioneers. Thank you to Rochelle @ Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple for providing another Friday Fictioneers photo prompt. The weekly challenge is to write a story of 100 words or less based on the photo prompt below.

PHOTO PROMPT © Rowena Curtin

Friday Fictioneers: Vlad

The sun is low on the horizon. I must arrive before it sets, before he wakes. I press the accelerator of the Jaguar topping 100 mph while checking my black leather weekender.

Everything is here. This should do the trick.

I arrive at his lair as the sun sets. Too late. He’s waiting for me in the foyer with a glass of red wine. His long black hair shimmering against his alabaster skin. I am mesmerized.

“How long has it been since you cast your spell on me?” he grins.

“Seven centuries, my love, since you took your first bite.”

Friday Fictioneers: The Ritual

Photo Prompt by Dale Rogerson

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I managed to snag an invitation to the old bones annual ritual. A black robe and mask awaited me in the foyer with a note.

 ‘Wear only the robe and mask. Ascend the staircase. The chamber doors await.’

The room was dark, save a candelabra in the far corner casting shadows on the walls. Several robed figures knelt before the High Priest. He raised his head. Our eyes met.

‘Present your offering.’

I pulled the garlic from my robe. A collective ‘gasp’ filled the room.

The High Priest swooped in and whispered, ‘nicely played’ as he gorged on my neck.

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Another flash fiction story written for the Friday Fictioneers. A big shout out to Rochelle @Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple for hosting Friday Fictioneers. The weekly challenge is to write a story of no more than 100 words based on the photo prompt. This story is exactly 100 words!