Woodwose by Richard Bell

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(The scene is set around a table ladened with drinks and books with three scholars seated and chatting. The subject of the paranormal crops up and the debate becomes heated. One of the scholars is conspicuously quiet. The other two proceed to delve into urban legend and the evening turns into who can tell the best ghost story. That sets the scene)
Prof. Guzman: But these are the dark spaces between theory and fact. They become a breeding ground for mysticism and folklore.
Prof. Trainor: The mysticism is held within the Chaos Theory. Every random act or unexpected result can be explained by that which does not follow a pattern of behaviour, be it pre determined or not.
Prof. Guzman: What about the documented evidence of levitation and a knowledge of dead languages and unannounced events? There are more things in heaven and earth…
Prof. Trainor: There you go again with the factory reset; heaven. It’s the lazy philosopher and scientist that falls back on the hallowed ground when they fall short of credibility. Smoke and mirrors, research, tricks, wires, recordings and alcohol added to hysteria and pretty much every event can be debunked.
Prof. Guzman: All I’m saying is dismiss the darkness at your peril. It is a living entity.
Prof. Trainor: Poppycock! It’s the absence of light and that is all. Everything that transpires in the dark is conjured by the imagination. Every emotion, every sense and every limb is heightened to primal dangers and those tend to be sharp teeth and claws.
Prof. Guzman: Know what your trouble is Trainor? You lack romance. You lack imagination. We need the imagination to see beyond the boundaries and into the dark places. That’s where we will find our advances…
(The third Professor, silent until now, finishes his drink and slams his glass upon the table before looking sternly at the other two)
Prof. Calder: I’ve been to the dark places. Those parts of the world beyond the safety barriers and the tour guides. The unimaginable monsters that hang from churches and in art and the printed word are founded in truth. What if I told you that they would come to you if properly summoned? What if I said that it wouldn’t be hours of ritual either? Would you find me credible or make me a laughing-stock?
(The other two Professors shift uneasily in their seats, pouring another drink and staring at Prof. Calder with incredulity. After a brief pause, Prof. Guzman leans forward and whispers “Go on!”)
Prof. Calder: This concerns something that pre dates magick as we know it. It is the about the Shadow Dimension. In English folklore lives a creature that was older than the primeval forests and appears in manuscripts and carvings on churches. These depictions were made to ward off this beast and keep the holy places safe from its presence.
Prof. Trainor: Shouldn’t we be say round a campfire with cub scouts and marshmallows?
Prof. Guzman: Be silent, Trainor and learn something. It might be your ticket to an imagination!
Prof. Calder: If you’re both going to bicker, I’ll save it for the lectern. I warn you though, it is a journey into darkness.
Prof Guzman & Trainor: (Together) Do go on.
Prof. Calder: Have you ever wondered about the origins of the gargoyle? About the hairy human beast leering from atop a parapet or above an arched door? The truth is far more insidious than the comedic representations make out. In fact, it’s down right terrifying. You see, we live in a world of illusion. Our eyes lie to us for our own protection. We see things in our peripheral vision and dismiss them as hokum or a trick of the light. But what if they were real beings passing just out of sight and beyond a reasonable explanation? What if I were to tell you the secret to seeing what’s REALLY right in front of you?
(Silent and intense, both professors shifted uneasily in their seats and continued to stare at Professor Calder as he placed his drink on the table and removed his jacket.)
Prof. Calder: You see gentlemen, it is quite simple. Tromp L’oreil or trick of the eye is the trump card for the Woodwose. He is the miscreant, the mis leader and the misanthrope. He steals the innocent away and leads them down dark paths and into his shadow world. He is the sylvan satyr and the Sasquatch. But do you know what his greatest trick is?
(Suddenly the lights flicker and dim then go out altogether leaving the room in pitch darkness. There is complete silence as a low grumble and a wheeze fills the room. The two Professors, Guzman and Trainor shift in their seats. Then for a moment the lights flash on to reveal, right in front of theirs, a huge hairy face with terrifying features and piercing red eyes. They both scream as the creature, who they realise is Professor Calder, whispers in a low growl
“Boo!”
The lights go out for the last time.)

chudmonster

Original written work by Richard Bell

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

**Click on any Image to redirect to the images webpage/designer where it has been provided.
All images are found using Google Image Search and are not always labelled
I hold no ownership to any image used unless otherwise stated**

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Obscura by Richard Bell

(The scene is set in a bijou photographers studio in a picturesque, rural location. Inside the photographer, Vik Russon, is preparing for a shoot with a client who hasn’t arrived yet. His assistant is out on an errand and due back in an hour. He opens a cupboard, smiles at the contents then closes it slowly. There’s a knock at the door and he shouts “Come right in!” A tall, distinguished gentleman in his sixties enters and walks over to shake the photographers hand. As they exchange pleasantries, the gent winces at the strong grip. The photographer ushers him over to his computer to show him examples of his style. They are both looking at the slide show, which is unseen by the viewer, and the gent begins to frown and then to be visibly shaken. The photographer whispers something into his ear and the gent stifles a tear as he sheepishly walks in front of the camera to begin the shoot. That sets the scene.)
Vik: David, you’re a bit stiff, you need to be more natural. People can relate to a natural look, it puts them at ease. Even the shark smiles just before the big bite (laugh)
David: (Through a heavy sigh) Of course! I’ll try to relax. It’s a long drive from the city and I’ve three high-profile cases to fight.
Vik: Please, David, call me Vik. My friends call me Black Russian. On account of my sense of humour.
(David stares at him wide-eyed then looks at his hands which are shaking)
David: I like that a lot. My friends call me…they call me…uh…oh…I-I can’t remember my nickname. My caseloads are huge. I’m a QC for the defence and I have to endure bare-faced lies every day.
Vik: Spot a liar can you?
David: You get a sense…but not everyone is on the radar…not everyone…(whispered) please let them go.
Vik: Now, David! We have a shoot to do and an image to maintain. You need to be dignified and restrained with little emotion on show. It’s all in the eyes…all in the eyes…(grins at David who begins to sob again)
David: I think I should wear my wig and gown, Vik. It should be formal
Vik: Or a formality? Some people shouldn’t be defended, should they? I mean, you read their charge and you are aware of the evidence and the case is open and shut. And then the bank opens and the dinner bell rings and all the fat hogs descend upon the trough. There’s handshakes and misdirection and then the foreman delivers the walking papers. In a blink of an eye…or a shutter click…the pigs are set free. Blind justice and the last cigarette before dodging the bullet.
David: But it is not always that clear-cut and circumstances change throughout a trial. It is the job of the prosecution to convince the court of guilt. If they can’t…? You must understand that!
Vik: I understand that you play god. Since I can’t get an answer from the man in the sky then you will have to do.
David: They’re my family…
Vik: What about my family? What about the justice for my family. My god says eye for an eye. That’s why I’ve invited a guest today. The woman you set free. A drunk, rich killer that is here to get what she was meant to get at sentencing.
(Vik goes to the cupboard and opens it hastily reaching inside and pulling out a bound and gagged woman. The woman is crying and shaking and, as he throws her in front of David, she screams pleas from beneath the gag.)
Vik: David, you remember Lorna McDougall. She mowed down Olivia Russon and her son, Vladimir at a zebra crossing and switched seats with her corrupt husband then drove away like it was nothing. You remember defending her and laying card after card on the table to confound the jury and finally ‘persuading’ the foreman to acquit.
The foreman died in a hit and run a week ago.
Driver never found…
David: Please, Vik, It wasn’t like that. Donald McDougall is a statesman and he appealed. It was out of my hands. Circumstantial is not concrete.
Vik: Your family want you to do the right thing, David. In fact, they’re counting on it. (Vik moves to the computer screen and turns it to face David. It is apparent why David is so upset. His family are bound and gagged together with an explosive device on a detonator. Vik picks up his phone and says “Siri, call bomb!” David shouts out as the device next to his family begins to count down. Vik speaks to his phone again “Siri, disengage!” The counter is stopped. Vik then opens his desk drawer and hands David a pistol. David stares at the gun and then looks at the terrified sobbing Lorna)
David: Vik, I urge you, don’t do this. Revenge is not the way. You can still stop this and we can leave and never speak of this. I know that you are angry and devastated but we have all suffered. Lorna is divorced and I have a tumour.
Vik: Shut up! What do you know of suffering, lawyer? What do you know of loss. What do you know about burying your future? I lost everything and had to pull this meagre living out of the ashes. Now, shoot her through the head and go home. The disarm code is 4235. If you shoot me, I’ll detonate and your future is in ashes. Shoot her now!
David: Please Vik, don’t…
Vik: Siri…
David: (mouths to Lorna “I’m sorry” who screams under the gag) God forgive me…(David aims the gun at her head and pulls the trigger. Lorna flies backwards knocking over a light and spraying blood everywhere. David drops the gun and runs out of the studio, jumping into his car and driving away)
Vik: He’s gone, Lorna. You can get up now.
(Lorna stands and wipes the fake blood from her hair. She wraps her arms around Vik and gazes at the ring he bought her)
We sacrificed so much for our love and we are almost home free. A fresh start far away from it all. Well, we took care of your husband’s divorce lawyer. Now for the final act, to take care of your husband.

Obscura.svg

Original written work by Richard Bell

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

**Click on any Image to redirect to the images webpage/designer where it has been provided.
All images are found using Google Image Search and are not always labelled
I hold no ownership to any image used unless otherwise stated**

Together Forever by Tony Norton

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Your Cruel kiss
Told Me it was Over
A Stinging Single Barb of Indifference
Hooking
Inducing a tinnitus of
Wringing Mental Anguish
Of Vehement Preaching Denial
Not daring…not wanting to believe..
Not accepting
Us …Halved
In Darkness
Enveloping
Fog Cloud of Doubt
Comes Creeping over My Fragile Mind
Every thought Occupied … by You
Intoxicated by the absence of You…
In Dreams..
I peer into Your hollow eyes
In nightmares so real
Devoid of feelings
Feelings once abundant
Once Teeming with love
Love once in the light.
No longer there…
Gone….
Lonely
Without You
Lonely and Dark
Selfishly I knew…
You had all but gone…
And then the Voice…
The Voice of Green Eyed Love
Told Me
It told Me that something as beautiful as You
Simply
Could not be given away
I could not lose You
Never
I prayed…..
I prayed …that there was another way…
That I could make You Love Me again under the Sun
But the Voice
It Knew the truth
The Voice
Calm, collected, reasoning gave me all the variables, all the possible algorithms.
Always Arriving at the same Conclusion
In Emerald Hues
You were mine to take in shades of Green.

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So my Dearest Darling, know this.
No one could love You like I loved You.
Like I love You
Now on this Samhain Eve, I bear witness to fates path.
I am here to do the bidding of True Love’s Voice.
It tells me, We should be… together
Forever
I cannot be this world without You
You are the air I breath
The flooding blood in my veins, the hope in my soul.
Hopeless without You.
On this Samhain, Your Swan like neck I do cut.
Jugular and Carotid, left and right,
You and Me – We are meant to be
I want our Crimson Tide Passage to be swift.
I’ll meet You on the other side.
Now at this Witching Hour the time is Liminal
We are both just a few heartbeats away from Eternity
From Eternal Love
I Love You
Together
Forever

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Original written poetry by Tony Norton

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

When the Darkness Answered by Richard Bell

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Time can be a heavy corpse dragged into a shallow grave
Minutes whittled down to seconds
Sharpened into vampires weapons
I wish I could regenerate
Return from death an awful sight
Pressed upon the window pane
A grimace caught in candle light
Macabre diseased deformed reviled
A sausage skin filled up with rot
Pus weeps like a widowed bride
Stomach churned with worms inside
Maggots writhe on purple bloat
Blowfly larvae flee in plumes
Putrid stench a pungent gag
Bulge until expulsion sag
And then in full moon savage disc
A calling to the fang and claw
Transformed, the star will shift in shape
The wolf is out and won the war
And lightening bolt a million volts
A twitch a judder spasm jolt
Stitched and pieced from many folk
Connected by a carriage bolt
A monster crush obsessed am I
From child on up to man
When asked what fear excites in me?
The darkness answered tacitly
Perhaps my loneliness sought solace
In the realm of fear and dread
When asked what makes my warm blood freeze?
The darkness answered quietly
All manner of bizarre and foul
Changing forms and evil freaks
A monster made by harsh abuse
Unstoppable and never speaks
There’s evil that invades the soul
There’s evil from beyond the sky
Abhorrent abomination born
To bring about the prince of lies
A chilling tale obsessed am I
From child on up to man
When asked what haunts my
vivid dreams?
The darkness answered gingerly
Perhaps the sadness of my youth
Was manifest in gore and fright?
When asked what gives me morbid glee?
The darkness answered selfishly
And as I conjure horrors up
To fill my ghoulish needs
What is your deepest fear I ask?
The darkness answered
Come to me.

Dark Lord Morgoth by Leadedblade

Dark Lord Morgoth by Leadedblade

Original written poetry by Richard Bell

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

**Click on any Image to redirect to the images webpage/designer where it has been provided.
All images are found using Google Image Search and are not always labelled
I hold no ownership to any image used unless otherwise stated**

Challenge Yourself Weekend – Unearthed

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You’re digging in your garden and find a human femur.
Write an 8 Sentence Story using this prompt.

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Unearthed by Cheri Parnnell

I knew the very second I grabbed hold of the jagged femur, unearthed and splintered by mud-caked tines on my tiller, I had disturbed an ancient Indian burial ground. A tyrant rogue wind swirled around like a razored bullwhip, knocking the breath right out of my lungs. Ungodly cries of a thousand wrathful warriors seeking retribution rose up, as did their seemingly resurrected bodies in the nearby fields. As the raging natives surrounded me, I became petrified as if I were absolutely frozen in some primordial tribal dimension. Then the sea of onyx hair and painted faces parted, and made a way for the majestic chief who now stood before me, alongside a regal white buffalo. Tears flowed down my cheeks as the old one reached out with his brown leathered bony fingers and then curiously examined the salty drops that fell from my frightened innocent eyes. He nodded his head in understanding, and as eyes full of pain, grace, and wisdom stared into my soul, he took the yellowed ivory bone from my grasp. I fell to my knees on the hard sod, and as I watched the mighty spirits dissipate, I heard a chorus of harmonious voices chanting serenely beneath the wind….

FIN

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Unearthed by Richard Bell

I woke up in polythene with a breathing tube and a blinding headache. I knew I was under the earth and needed to dig myself out of this hole. Reaching through my plastic shroud, I clawed my way to the surface frantically. Flinging the tube across the garden, I grasped a bone; A bloody leg bone. The garden was strewn with chewed corpses and standing over me were five ravening zombies. One of them reached down and pulled me to my feet whilst the other four dusted me down. My eyes were adjusting but they could make out a sign ‘zombie gardening club’. As they began to bite into my flesh, I realised that they were ‘growing’ organic produce and I was the latest to be to harvested.

FIN

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Unearthed by Crimson Quintessence

Homicide detectives are investigating the suspicious death after a human femur was found in the back yard of Simon Preston in Springvale. Suddenly, you are reminded of an issue that you buried a long time ago. Subliminal messages hidden and imbedded behind an image flashes in your mind. Have you identified what the “ secret ” is that you buried all those years ago. The body, long since forgotten, hidden well within the walls of this old mansion. They won’t find him, not here, there is no reason to look for him. But why did you bury the femur in Simon’s back yard? The door rings, it’s the police,stay calm and all will be fine again.
FIN

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

**Click on any Image to redirect to the images webpage/designer where it has been provided.
All images are found using Google Image Search and are not always labelled
I hold no ownership to any image used unless otherwise stated**