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.
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.
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.”
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.
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!