Poetry ~ Witch of the Woods

~

My dark poetry series continues with a poem I first published on my Tales of Darkness blog. Meet the Witch of the Woods.

Sister,
do you
remember
our walk down
the ancient road? We
broke through the woods
where the river flowed. We
gathered feathers and
rocks and twigs of
all shapes our
baskets
overflowing,
we soon filled our
capes. The others called
out as we ran toward the blaze.
We were sisters and maidens of the
moon’s waxing phase. Those were
the years we danced in our
dreams. Decades gone,
I can still hear
your screams.
The night
they
tore you away
from the witch of
the woods, but a
bond made in
blood forever
endures.


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

.

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.”