amwriitng, arts, Death, dreams, fiction, Observations, Photography, Poetry, scary, twilight zone, Writing

Past a Spooking Hour

    

    There is a place where a converged spot of nothingness gravitates and gyrates like a bee. It is confined to it’s place of death. It cannot move on, or rest. Day and night, every witching hour. Ignorance walks through it and each time that happens it vibrates, a little and it’s dedicated spot waivers. On a Sunday this can happen 100 times or at Christmas a 1000 times.  This soul is not fickle or flirt with it’s death. It makes a resolute stand within it’s own eternity. 

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    Airline disaster, amwriitng, Grief, LIFE LESSONS, Love, Music, spoken word, poetry, Poetry, Sea, Writing

    AirAsia Flight 8501

    Flight 8501

    When the body hits the
    unmoving body of the ocean

    It does not cease.
    It fell from the sky.

    The lights went out
    that night.

    A son waits for a
    Daddy who can’t get home.

    The fisherman waits
    for a son in row D21.

    A wife waits for a call
    to say he will be late

    she wills the call and she won’t
    get cross this time.

    Take all the time in the world
    be late a thousand times!

    Just promise you will
    return to me and I

    will cook dinner and
    rub your feet and see you.

    When this flight dropped
    from the night sky

    it fell and fell
    but somehow, these three

    were found together.
    Hands Held Locked Tight.

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    amwriitng, dreams, fiction, nosferatu, short story, supense

    The Dream

    The feeling that something inside wanted you out.

    The feeling that something inside wanted you out.

    I force myself to open my eyes – to be relieved of this nightmare. The moon has cast shadows into this old room and I manage to cast my bloodshot pupils around and make out the dresser, the wardrobe and curtain drapes. An oak chair is lit up with the ghostly glare of the moonlight. I see the door, it is half ajar. If I move quickly, I can make it to the door; find the exit, run, escape.

    And as I think, this thing of feet stops, as if reading my mind. My breathing is hard, heavy, my heart beat is deafening and beats in my chest; it might explode and leave that place. I start to shift from the bed, and then those wretched feet start up again; hitting me on my back, my thighs and my shoulders with such venom and hatred. I begin to sob, violent sobs that reach my core. In that moment, I decide that it has won; my removal. I must go, now! On one final large kick I am on the floor. I gather myself, stumble, and fall, and gather myself once more. I am a lumbering colossus. I make for the door, I do not look back, and I do not turn. I flee down the dim long corridor and as I run – I hear it. Footsteps, following. Dear God! They are in pursuit; they are light footsteps, strong and quick. How can I outrun these? They wanted me not just out of that bed, but out of what? The house? My life…My heart is still beating hard and fast. I must control it – need to breathe – need to run.

    As I make for the heavy oak staircase, I slip on the second step and I fall badly. I twist my back sideways and my leg gives way; I tumble down like an old rag doll discarded by a belligerent child. Falling down and down, and as I do, I hear the familiar slap of my assailants’ feet on bare wood as I tumble. I land in a clumsy pile at the bottom, pain sears through my arm – it is at a perverted angle. The sound of feet stops, abruptly. It is time to look up and meet my nemesis. I am quivering, my breathing is betraying me and I open my shut eyes and prepare myself for horror.
    There is nothing. There is no-one. There is nothing.

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