#darkprose

The Window Beckoned #TwistedVerses #SpilledInk #TwistedRoads #IndieAuthor #DarkProse #WritingCommunity #DarkFiction #PoetryIsNotDead #PoetryOfInstagram #SpilledThoughts #WritersOfInstagram #WritingPrompts #DarkPoetry

I slipped inside, the window beckoned. Underneath the seed, I sowed a weapon. The time, the tide, I never knew which. The persistence of time, penance for the witch. I opened, it closed, the door ajar. Sunny wisdom given to icy colds. I asked, forgiven, not waiting to know. Hello, a wave was seen. Within me, I be. There is no other, there is no me. I slipped inside, the window beckoned.

Heavenly…

the sun was burning as hot as the oven, shining in through the very window my neighbor sat at.

i glance across. the only thing i can see is passion.

the way the sheets tangle in his body, seeing his breathing patterns flow slowly across.

the way shadows engulf his body like it’s written by art itself.

his body looks so soft under the sheets. i feel the urge to touch it, feel it under my very own fingers.

hours go by…

standing by the very window that goes to his, watching his body. he didn’t shift one bit.

still laying in that same measurable position.

it’s like he was stuck to the bed, screaming for help in such a fearful way,

because as the sun was slowly leaving his window the seeps of blood expose itself—

reminding me that he’s not real.

it was my imagination, reminding me of the one day i found his body limp, frozen in time.

but still i can’t find the urge to move from the window.

even as i see no one on the bed, i still linger in the thought of his form,

how i would stalk the windows, making sure he was okay.

it’s the only thing keeping me sane.

he managed to escape from my grasp, leaving me in despair.

as i cry out for the nearest comfort,

Whispered in the Soil #TwistedVerses #SpilledInk #TwistedRoads #IndieAuthor #DarkProse #WritingCommunity #DarkFiction #PoetryIsNotDead #PoetryOfInstagram #SpilledThoughts #WritersOfInstagram #WritingPrompts #DarkPoetry

Contempt. Sorry. Sinew. Worry. Broken dreams in the wishing well—coins given to the devil of them all. Mirrors reflecting the system, twisted trees growing listless and empty.  Turn the key without a lock, open the door without a knock. Sorry means nothing when it’s a void of emptiness. The hole in the ground is inside me— A voidless wound that consumes everything.  Forgotten promises broken in…

The Dark Path, Alight with Fire #NTT #ShortStory #Debut #Microfiction #TwistedRoads #IndieAuthor #HorrorCommunity #HorrorFiction #SciFiHorror #DaretoShare #IndieHorror #HorrorWriters #ScaryStories

Today’s piece of prose is brought to life by the following prompt… This is my submission for Kevin’s No Theme Thursday. The Dark Path, Alight with Fire A circle of fire burns around me, a mirror not a door, winding tales upon the kingdom, let the monsters roar. I spit the words before me, chewing upon the fat, craving sinful playthings, a slice of this and that. My audience, a gift of malice,…

A Shield Against the Fires of Hell #NTT #ShortStory #Debut #Microfiction #TwistedRoads #IndieAuthor #HorrorCommunity #HorrorFiction #SciFiHorror #DaretoShare #IndieHorror #HorrorWriters #ScaryStories

Today’s piece of prose is brought to life by the following prompt… This is my submission for Kevin’s No Theme Thursday. A Shield Against the Fires of Hell The fire licked at his heels, the devil’s putrid flesh, it peels, back beyond its humanity, the demented killer within me. A shield of blood, a mask of mud, decaying flesh, deceit at his behest. I dance within the dying days, lost within its…

Haggard in the Mirror Dark #NTT #TwistedVerses #SpilledInk #TwistedRoads #IndieAuthor #DarkProse #WritingCommunity #DarkFiction #PoetryIsNotDead #PoetryOfInstagram #SpilledThoughts #WritersOfInstagram #WritingPrompts #DarkPoetry

Today’s piece of prose is brought to life by the following prompt… This is my submission for Kevin’s No Theme Thursday. Haggard in the Mirror Dark Its darkness sucked in the light, for the mirror’s edge knew delight. It reflected life without a care, disembodied with a flair for the debonair—it sat, it watched, it waited, counting time, while we hated. Collections of images, moments echoing in…

A Billion, and Yet One #NTT #TwistedVerses #SpilledInk #TwistedRoads #IndieAuthor #DarkProse #WritingCommunity #DarkFiction #PoetryIsNotDead #PoetryOfInstagram #SpilledThoughts #WritersOfInstagram #WritingPrompts #DarkPoetry

Today’s piece of prose is brought to life by the following prompt… This is my submission for Kevin’s No Theme Thursday. A Billion, and Yet One A billion, and yet one, sitting within the desolate void, becoming undone. I am, or is it was? A penance, resistance, a force of nature, unstoppable. Yet here I sit, wasting away, dying, unbecoming. Did I make this fate my own, or was I just written…