Sailors travelling the briny deep,
Would do well to mind their tipple,
And stick to quarters for their sleep,
Or vanish into a #ripple.
Sweet maidens bob their kelpy head,
Sing sweetly beside the ship.
A maw drags them down like lead,
For terrible teeth, their flesh, do rip.
The bloated victims become a home,
Weighed down for their sweet offspring.
And after hatching they soon roam,
Up to the light, and to the sailors, sing.
I got the bug from a short poem I wrote for a #horror365 prompt, and made a thing!
I tweaked the poem, and added a creepy zombie dog illustration... you know... for kids!
#WritingWonders APR 12 - Does your MC have a healthy lifestyle?
They moved there for the lifestyle. Less money, sure, but nice neighbourhoods, quiet streets, doors left unlocked. Just like they never remembered. The woods are imposing, and quite technical, you could lose a shoe, or even a foot if you weren't careful. But they knew all this going in. And they knew the kids would keep them fit. They had to keep up. Because there is nothing so fearless as 7 year olds on a forest adventure.
#horror365
Bran gazed into the fresh cut #fishing hole. He saw them, beautiful and every colour. In went the hook, bait, and line. It dropped with a distant thud. He let the current take it. Then, a catch! He tugged up the line, and out of the dimensional hole, clutching the tiny smartphone, a tiny human squealed to be let go.
Bran dropped him into the bucket with the others, and dipped for another. They were getting fatter every year. The chewy skin came right off.
The rockpools glistened, isolated by the retreating morning tide. Murky and full of anemones and molluscs, the occasional terrified crab. I waded in to gather my samples of soil. Measuring microplastic and other 'forever' contaminants
It was slow and tough, the #seaweed tangled and tripped, and I fell to my knees, plunging hands deep into the silt. I sat back and washed them clean. My fingers were missing. Bitten. The water turned dark red. The seaweed moved.
'How's the water?' I asked. Stupid. She's beautiful, why say that?
'Come for a #swim', she sang. She lay on the slanting rock, arms beneath her breasts. Her legs in the still water. Her damp hair, beautiful chestnut waves. Her lips so red and wet.
In the water, I saw the truth. The spell had broken, my lungs emptied. She pulled me down with hands now spurs. Her tail and fin fanning, pounding water away from shore. Deep. Her eyes rolled white. Her maw a jagged grin.
#horror365
The earth was loose but he had long since lost his fingernails. The blood warmed his fingers, now numbed by the cold damp clay. Then, nothing. No. Air! Out, free, oh god the breeze. He pulled. Shook, wiggled, dragged himself free, born again swaddled in sodden loam. He roared into his new world, and rose, earth clods falling like a baptism from him.
He panted, but didn't need air.
Lived, but didn't #survive.
Hungered, but only for braaaains!
#horror365
The city lay before us, on squares of red and white,
Food stacked up like towers, blind to coming blight.
The giants fought valiantly, they swung and showed their might,
They quickly fell before us, their dying a swollen sight.
We dined on blood that day, took all food, fine and basic,
Dragged live colossi to our hive, who moaned then all took sick.
Soon more arrived in numbers, gave us gasoline and flame lick,
To avenge their conquest of nature, their humble #picnic.
#WritingWonders APR 7 - 1 sound, 1 smell from your MC's nightmares.
Sound: Silence in the nursery.
And please don't think this is connected...
Smell: The mouldy rot of leaves and flesh.
#horror365 - #mausoleum
The mausoleum lay in the garden. Carved, worn and mossy. Leaning, as though dropped and left. The earth reclaiming the bracken covered house of the dead. Susan lay within, his wife of half a century, beside forgotten generations. Susan wasn't there, Warren knew. Not any more. He couldn't let go. His home the same - damp and subsiding. He too soon to leave. The children had gone. But they couldn't let go. He, in his tomb soon forgotten.