Into The Storm by Brandon Ryals



Walking alone through the shadows
I listen for the coming of the storm
Thunder rolls over the mountains
As lightning strikes in the distance

Lights ahead mark the pathway
So close now to the safety of home
Rain falls with a devils tenacity
As I reach the shelter of my keep

Fresh wood brings the fire to life
Throwing shadows on the walls
Yet the cold of the rain still grips my heart
As my gaze falls on the ancient tome

The power ancient and arcane within
words of salvation found on these pages
The workings of the dark gods reside here
Do I dare knowing the price to be paid

Unknown to me the demon watches
She waits patiently in the shadows
Her eyes burning with a primeval desire
As she watches with curiosity

Longing to be made flesh again
She cries out in frustration and rage
Her voice goes unheard in shadows
As tears of sorrow fall into nothingness

Sitting alone I stare into the flames
Unable to shake this sensation
I could almost swear I heard crying
Looking down I give in to temptation

Sitting before the fire I begin to read
Unseen the demon takes her place
Sitting before me within the fire
She guides my hand to the spells

It takes all her strength to guide my hands
The will to be made flesh is strong
silent desperation fills her eyes
As my eyes fall upon the proper spells

I close my eyes in contemplation
the ceremony simple but for one thing
It’s a small matter almost insignificant
A tribute payed in blood a gift of flesh

Hope fills her heart as she watches me
Her hands guide mine in the preparation
Each symbol meticulously drawn
Every item in its proper place

Sitting inside the circle I close my eyes
My heartbeats slow as does my breathing
Words of love whispered go unheard
As the verses fall from my lips

The room around me disappearing
My world falls into smoke and fire
As a figure appears in the distance
The demon approaches through the flames

My heart stops as she reaches the edge
The final barrier at the threshold
So beautiful cloaked in smoke and fire
Her eyes implore me to finish the rite

So close to the freedom she desires
Silently she begs him to finish
Tears fall from.her eyes as she reaches
Crying out in anguish for his love

The final words fall from my lips
The world around me exploding
Blinded by smoke and flame
I fall into darkness what have I done

For a mere moment hell follows
As she falls through the doorway
Crying out in triumph she is free
As the smoke fades she sees her saviour

Lying broken at her feet all but dead
Gently she lifts him into her arms
Moving into the night she lays him down
The rain washing away the stain of the pit

Gently she holds her love in her arms
Praying to the gods of old to spare him
His body lies broken and.bloody
Tears of sorrow fall from her eyes

Lightning crashes all around her
As an ancient prayer fills the night air
The night comes alive with spirits
As powers ancient and arcane fill the air

I awaken into a world of pain
Broken and bloody I open my eyes
I feel rain upon my brow so cold
I see through the haze my demon

She is so beautiful this child of perdition
Her embrace so gentle laying in her arms
Her voice a whisper ears
As I succumb to the pain falling again

Staring down she smiles knowingly
The answer comes to her from above
Whispered on the darkness around her
She is granted the gift of resurrection

Smiling she lays him gently on the ground
Touching his face softly as the storm rages
A small bite on her lip and the blood flows
Her lips brush his as the gift is passed on

I open my eyes to her smiling face
Reaching for her I feel a change
Pain leaves my body in waves
Replaced by an unknown strength

Together we stand lost in our love
Finally I see her in all her glory
Before me so dark and enticing
This ravishing creature

Her eyes so dark and full of mystery
I stand awe of this goddess before me
As she falls into my embrace
Her head resting on my shoulder

With new-found strength I lift her
Together we move into the manse
Sheltered from the storm
Beginning our journey together in eternity.

Mad Max:Fury Road.

Mad Max:Fury Road.

Original written work of Brandon Ryals



Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

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The Keeper of Perdition by Brandon Ryals


As I close my eyes to the coming of the dawn
The winds whisper your name to me
My mind fills with visions of my goddess
So beautiful bathed in darkness

Sitting alone I hold the key close to my heart
Disbelief tries vainly to take hold
Yet in my heart I know the truth of what I saw
The proof lays before me in silent slumber

the memories of the night seem such a mess
Fragments of a dream yet I know it to be true
it must be as I reach out to take her hand
memories unfold in my mind finally the truth

Sitting alone I listening to the oceans roar
lost in the tranquilly of the moment
The last moments as the sun falls away
When the water is ablaze with the final fire

Soon the night will come bring the ethereal
A phantom smile on the horizon glows silver
heralding the arrival of the midnight sun
The world below bathed in moonlight

this is the night when the nightmare ends
A distant storm heralds my end of days
So beautiful the coming oblivion
If only I knew how wrong I was so foolish

She watches me from afar cautiously
Her eyes burn with hellfire in the darkness
silently she moves like a wraith
Caution has given way to curiosity

Sitting within the shadows she watches
so cold the night air-filled with sadness
this mortal before her so fragile
The pain of heartache shows in his eyes

Rain falls unnoticed as she moves closer
So curios this creature before her
Stopping mere feet away she lays before him
So close now to taste the bitter-sweet tears

Thunder rumbles as the storm rages stronger
She almost misses the blade before him
Lightning tears the heavens above
reflecting upon the razors edge

The realization becomes all to clear
As he rises the blade in hand
Drunk with sorrow and despair
He raises his hands to the heavens

So cold the rain upon my face
A vain attempt to wash away my tears
Soon enough I will embrace the darkness
Surrendering my soul the keeper of perdition

So tired of this burden on my heart
The pain that has racked my soul
I smile in the face of the storm
Knowing my journey is at its end

so cold the blade in my hand as I stand
Angels tears wash over my face
The sorrow and anguish take hold
As I raise my hands to the heavens

Without hesitation she moves forward
knocking the knife from his grasp
Knowing now why she was led here
Smiling at the wisdom of her dark father

So cold the hand that grasps my arm
As I cry out in surprise and shock
The blade knocked from my hand
As I stare into the face of the goddess

So fierce the eyes that bore into my soul
The strength of her grip keeps me from falling
I’m unable to resist as she pulls me closer
Sweet is the rain on lips that brush mine

All around me the.tempest rages
Yet I am lost to the creature before me
So beautiful darkly enchanting this goddess
Could this be my salvation from perdition

She stares into eyes full of pain
Gently pulling him closer into her embrace
Her kiss so soft sweetened with drops of rain
There is no fear only resignation in his eyes

Together they stand lost within the storm
the gods unleash a hurricane upon them
Yet for all their might and power of rage
All he sees is the dark and beautiful goddess

Reaching out she takes his hand in hers
pulling him into the protection of her embrace
So warm his breath on her shoulder
tranquil is the beating of his mortal heart

a smile upon his face as he realizes the truth
Together they leave the fury of the storm
Laying together to await the coming dawn
To begin their journey through time.

Aphrodite (Venus) Greek Goddess - Art Picture by Isikol

Aphrodite (Venus) Greek Goddess – Art Picture by Isikol

Original written work of Brandon Ryals



Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

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Mayfly Meteorite by Tony Norton


Our eyes they meet and all the lying ends
Listen to fate and the signals that She sends
We’ve just met – but feel the Deja vu,
I’ve been right here a million times before with you

Don’t fight the feelings- don’t even try?
Cast your eyes up to the sky
Let’s join together – touch the night,
You know it feels so right
We are Mayfly Meteorites
Let our love ignite the night
Like Mayfly Meteorites

Forget tomorrow forever’s here with me
Ours souls they roll- fixed eternity
No – if -what – where -why or how,
Love is here – Love is right now

Let’s join together – embrace the night
Like Mayfly Meteorites
Don’t let me go –please hold me tight
We shine so bright like Mayfly Meteorites
Come the morning light
I’ll leave with the night
Like a Mayfly Meteorite


Original Written work by Tony Norton aka @iwilltwittowho


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.
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Horror Parade by Richard Bell

Artist Unknown

Artist Unknown

Gathering crowds
in orange and black
Clutching their lanterns
Devilish handsome
Autumnal red smear, a carpet
for nightmares
Staring like Myers
Smiling like Manson

Through Hammer film mist swirls
The fearful tunes crawl
Off key descending
Suspense is mind-bending
The dark veil is ripped
By the flagship of floats
Silver screen monsters and
Scream queens for hosts

Sugar skull zombies girls
Chainsaw freak roaring boys
Pumpkin spiced everything
This is my anti Spring
Next through the pea soup fog
Space monster scares
From beyond furthest reaches
of deep dark despair

The crowds in their costumes
Of every dark character
The ring of the theatre screams
Rise from the horror fiends
Ticker tape bloody shreds
Demonic rain
Sky scraping towers
Are piles of the slain

Another ship sails through
The silent hill mist
Beasts that are giant-sized
Infested child, exorcised
Son of the devil and vampiric hordes
An ape and a monster fish
Mars and Earth wars

The horror parade with its floats of pure terror
Creations from minds that push past boundaries
Decades of madness and mayhem and blood
Saluting a genre of freak show born reverie

Slashers and stalkers
Lithe spider walkers
Transforming melting skin
Out of a dark place grin
Zombie walk shuffle
Demons with sparks
Bullets of silver
Stakes through the heart
Ghost face unhinged bored teens
Hockey mask brutes
Nightmares with finger knives
Killer tree roots
Spirits from videos
Dark viral feed
Ouija board deadly games
Mirrors and bees
Lunatic shrinks
Journeys to hell
Bloodbaths and torture
Deep woods dark spells
Cannibal families
Virulent strains
Spirit filled homes
Life and death games
Effigies hung from trees
Soulless cloned pods
Changelings and strange things
and made in a lab
Gore hounds and ghost heads
Madmen in mazes
Tricks for the popcorn treats
Convention crazies

Sail through the ages of our love affair
With horror,
the genre,
the thrill of the scare.




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**

Blue Requiem by Tony Norton


Towering skyscrapers
swaying on graphene pontoons
bob on ebbing nodding tides.
Grey, It had been raining constantly for the 4 years since they built the flotillas.
Built after the great flood
Built after the global war.
Colossal Mountain ranges were now at sea level.
Massive holes had been punched
in the ozone layer and raw radiation seeped in through the atmosphere.
Critically any hyper exposure to the now searing sun could and often did prove fatal.
The world was searing hot with water everywhere.
An incredible increased level of technology
Has now enabled man an ability to make a conscious connection with the Whales of the Seas.
Shamefully the Whales showed humanity what it had done to the planet and highlighted the error of its ways. The Whales had brought forth the connection of the human soul.
They had awoken again the long-lost ability to make spiritual connections.
Hundreds of generations of lost unfulfilled souls now had missed lifetimes of revelatory catching up to do.
By re energising exercises on the pineal gland The Whales became the shaman to human spiritual enlightenment. New age prophets ushering in the golden age of duality.
Many followers began worshipping the Whales.
Hundreds of buzzing hover taxis ferried the herds
of Devotees from flotillas to the hypersonic hydrofoils waiting to jet the off for their aqua sonic inter continental pilgrimages to the Whale bed temples.
A global Aqua police force were formed to keep law and order in this New World of Water.
Hydrogen had become the fuel of choice which was in abundance and extracted from the water in extraction plants. Huge blue oxygen bubbles, a by-product of the chemical process were released constantly into the atmosphere like huge hot air balloons floating up in the blue horizons.
Blue sea, blue sky, blue planet.


Abe had been lucky to only witness the last year of the war. He had worked in munitions until the melting of the poles brought about the great flood and an abrupt end to the war. In biblical proportions countries were flooded and drowned. Eighty percent of the world now lay under water. Humans fled to the mountains but they became impossibly crowded. That’s when the global corporations joined and formed the Aqua Alliance and started building their floating cities.

War had brought about much change. Connection with the Whales brought about duality between form and spirit.
Body and One.. whole..
The new mantra for the new age.
It became the obsession…to find yourself.
Firstly there were only a few who perfected astral travel. Out of body experience where a person was able to reconnect with the ultimate consciousness. At first only painfully committed meditation could achieve the desired state.
Gurus came back with tales of wonder and an insight into the fabulous potential of connection.
They were examined in laboratory conditions, alpha brain waves monitored and they could be seen spiking off the monitoring chart.
Tests revealed that in the catatonic state the levels of the hormone DMT in the travellers blood were seen to be through the roof. Scientists quickly worked out the heightened state could be achieved by administering the drug DMT. The problem was this. The amount of DMT required, if administered directly into the blood stream caused aneurysms and heart attacks.
Swallowed, it caused nausea and vomiting but worked much better. Then the breakthrough …if it was mixed with a specific, organic substance, one that was biodegradable and kind to the human gut it worked fantastically . That substance was ambergris – whale vomit – the Holy Grail. Ambergris is solid, waxy, flammable substance of a dull grey or blackish colour produced in the digestive system of sperm whales. It was often found with squid beaks in it, hinting that it was used as a lubricator to aid the Whales digestion.
Mixing DMT with ambergris formed the perfect pellet They seemed to perfectly compliment each other. A marriage literally born in the waves of heaven.
Astral projection now became available to the masses.
Enlightenment brought again as a by-product of the interaction with the Whales.

Abe had been in awe of the Whales since the revelation at the end of the war. He had heard of the pilgrimages to the Whales beds and the connections, and the stories of wonder and the sessions of pure love. He had studied them. He had saved up his global currency credits (GCC’s) with a view to making the pilgrimage to the Whale beds and to enlightenment.


The day of his trip had arrived.

Abe at twenty-eight was one of the lucky ones. Many generations of his age group had either been killed or maimed in the global war. He had worked in the graphene factory since the end of the war and lived frugally. He had a modest apartment on the 121st floor of a flotilla apartment. He particularly enjoyed reading books, particularly the classics. He was currently reading Brave New World by Aldous Huxley and found it eerily close to the modern truth. Indeed an epsilon he, longed to join the pilgrimage to the Temples of the Whales on the Southern tip of the Americas, which was now Uruguay as Argentina was drowned.
Today was the day….four years saving…it had finally arrived.

He put on a baseball cap as his thinning mousey brown hair was no match for the searing sun.
Nervously he climbed aboard the water taxi, which ferried him to the floating quayside where the Hydrofoil was moored.
He was nervous, excited, anxious and apprehensive all in one go. Four seasons in one day he thought. He had booked two weeks off from work and couldn’t wait to escape.

The water taxi silently moved through the choppy water with two others on board. The unforgiving sun shone cruelly in the balmy salty atmosphere.
The air was charged with expectations.

The taxi pulled up and moored at the quayside.
The three travellers disembarked and headed to the Ocean Control office to check in. Papers in order the shuffled along to the departure lounge. There were three armed Aqua police officers standing guard but the atmosphere was one of excited expectations. The was the familiar babble of crowds and the buzz of excited conversation filled the departure lounge. All the pilgrims were dressed in the blue garb of ocean worship, Abe included. Most of the pilgrims were older wanting the absolution of connection before passing across. Abe, on the other hand felt he was answering a calling.

All boarded and settled into their travel pods the hydrofoil’s hydrogen engines whistled into life. Abe felt the ship raising up above the waves as the hum of the electromagnets droned into life. He set the Pod clock to 15 hrs and a little pill popped out of the dispensing draw at the bottom. Pill popped he drifted off to sleep.
He began to dream…


Creeping… Fever ….Virus…Hot …Salt…. Sweat
Eyes Burning…Head Bursting
Blue..So So Much..Blue..
Waves of Nausea
Waves of Water
Over Abe’s Minds Eye
Opening Wide
Seeing All
Ears Burning
Tearing Tinnitus
Din of Delirium
Piercing Painful Prophetic Crys
Haunting Squeals of a Whale
Leviathan of Dynamic Proportions
Appears to Abe
Shivering in his Altered State
He is afraid of Him
He know’s He is the Truth
Wants to look away

Abe knows he is to blame….

Cold Cold Ocean
Greys and Blues and Blacks
And back to Greys
Clicks and howwwwwwwwls
Squeeeeeeeeeks and waiiiiils
Cochlear Assault
Pure Pain

He is to blame…

As Clear as day
Images blue burst to life
Resonating in Abe’s Minds Eye
Every Shade of the Bluest of Blue
Every Shade of Sadness
Every Feeling that Blue Can Bring

Shamefully Abe is to blame

Sweet Shoals of Plankton
Soured -Septic
Cracks in the Crust of Ocean Floor
Splitting Atoms
Invoking Earthquakes
Man Playing for Power
Man Playing God
God blames Man
In Biblical Proportions

Abe is to blame

Fetid Fukishima Fish Floating as Flotsam
Deep Dark Dead Seas
Deep Dark Depths of Despair
He wants to wake
Hypnotically the Whale Holds Him tranced
Holds The Vista
Sea Sick
Nautical Nausea
So much PAIN
He wants to wake

He knows he is firmly to blame

Shows Him All
Shows Abe Despair
Salt Sea
So Saline from a Million Crying Tears

Family’s of Whales
Swimming Suicidally Hard
Onto Bone Yard Beaches
Young Calves Carcasses
Out for Cackling Cawing Carrion
Abe cries out….
“I want to wake
I’m So So Sorry
Let Me WAKE”

Finally Feverishly Fever
Whale Wails Pitifully
Abe realises
Pity is
For Him
Blinks a Tearful Gaze
Nods his Huge Head
Swims off
Into the Blue Blue Yonder
Swims Away
Hope Swims with Him

Abe wakes
With a fearful dread
He carries the blame

The hydrofoil’s hydrogen engine came to a whining stop and in his semi awakened state he felt the ship slowing down, coming to its destination. He felt very vulnerable after his nightmare and apprehensive about the visit to come, when he would go face to face with the real Whales…ones that could read his fragile mind.

ocean whales drawn skies the sky 2560x1600 wallpaper_www.animalhi.com_26

Part 2

As he shuffled down off the hydrofoil down the metallic gangway a booming message came over the tannoy…
“Please respect this Holy place…
could you please maintain a silence on the monorail journey to your hotel”

As he left the metal scanner and the heavily armed Aqua police he wondered to himself why in such a holy place there was the need for guards?Then he remembered he was human, and what humans had already done and what they are capable of.
A big red neon sign flashed
Silence Please
With a heavy sigh he boarded the monorail. The monorail took a vertical right angle to the harbour area and climbed steeply upwards at a slow steady pace. As it climbed higher and higher up the grassy cliff face Abe felt his ears pop. Rain trickled back down the window at wavering forty-five degree angles in opposite direction to the cars journey. A nagging seed of doubt came to Abe…he put the nausea down to the travel pill and being tired. He felt…..sad?
As the monorail levelled at the cliff top it seemed to then defy gravity and the track, actually suspended in the air, went out across the bay.
The view was breathtaking.
Although commercialised, the bay below was stunning. Pods of humpback whales frolicked in the especially dug out cove. About five miles in circumference, dug out of the shale bedrock, it was was a deep chlorine green coloured harbour. There were especially manufactured groins stretching out to sea which were strategically interspersed by small lighthouses with huge whale docking ports underneath them.
Abe immediately knew in his heart he was indeed at the right place.
The monorail came back over the other side of the grassy cliff again and headed downwards to his impressive looking futuristic hotel.
Abe checked in, picked up his bags from the carousel and headed for his room. Tomorrow would be the best day of his life but tonight he was too tired to even contemplate it. Getting into his room without unpacking, he literally crawled into the bed and drifted off into a deep deep uninterrupted sleep.

He woke, early, excited, nervous, anxious. Went to breakfast, still no words spoken.
He Ate his dry toast heartily but there wasn’t butter as there was a “strictly no dairy” sign as this interfered with the ambergris and DMT ingestion.
Meeting at reception with all the others, he was handed a booklet. Still no words. He was also given a prism quartz key, with docking bay 7.
That was to be his pod…destiny had spoken.
Another monorail from the hotel to the quayside and then on to the travellator out along the groine to pod lighthouse 7. The rest of the travellers had gleeful looks on their faces but still, no words were spoken.
He entered the lighthouse and was instructed in sign language to sit in the waiting area and read the instructions.
He sat, and waited, and waited. One hour passed. He began to feel nervous again. Anxious. He wondered had they forgotten him. Should he go and find someone. He decided to wait and just enjoy the peace and quiet it afforded him. As soon as he relaxed the door opened and a small bald man entered the room. It said Roy on his badge.
In hushed tones he introduced himself.
Hello Abe… I am Roy…I am your valet…welcome to Cathedral Bay… I will be assisting your connection to the Whales and subsequent journey to consciousness, should the Whales deem you worthy”

The balding boffin led the way down a series of metal steps which looked like a Bond villains lair. He placed a metal scull cap onto Abe’s head and led him to sit on what looked like a lifeguards chair. The chair was on hydraulics and began moving out over the water. Abe was now, strapped in and in a horizontal position laying down facing the water. The next thing a huge bell chimed across the whole of the bay and the glass doors of all the lighthouses opened.

In swam the leviathan. He was enormous. Barely fitting in the hanger. He swam straight over to Abe. Abe was scared…staring straight into his huge Whale eye.
His leathery grey skin was gnarly wrinkled and encrusted with barnacles.
Whale let out a guttural growl.
All of a sudden….Abe understood.
The transponder on his head translated….he was communicating with a Whale….
Why You Here!!…boomed the question?
Abe was so so scared…
For answers…said Abe…
The Whale let out a piercing sqeeeeeak…
Answers” You already have…was the translation.
Another squeal…
Battle begins within….
Battle only you can win….
A loud wailing sigh…
Transponder translates
Pure Proceed…
Whale blinks his huge eye at Abe and swims off….
Leaving a bemused Abe in his foamy wake.
It was over….so so quickly.

Abe was slowly dragged back to the vertical and back to the walkway by hissing pneumatics.

Roy unstrapped him….

Well how was it….? Asked Roy.

Terrifying…said Abe…
Exhilarating and Terrifying….he said now laughing hysterically.

Well said Roy, that was the boring part…. smiling …

Now for the real fun…

Roy led Abe up the stairs to a laboratory room.
Still wearing the transponder he lay Abe onto what looked like a psychiatrists couch.

Please take this, said Roy and handed him a pill the size of a lozenge, with a cup of water to wash it down.
Abe took the DMT….

Lie back, relax, close your eyes and count back from 10 to 1 …… Relax and enjoy….Roy’s voice faded in the distance

Abe felt reality……melt.
Falling Away to weightlessness
Abe was floating
In the air…
In the ocean
Surrounded by Whales
Sea gave way to sky
Skies of the purest blue
Hues of blue
Dark to light
Light blue
To pale watercolour blue
Blue blush to creamy white
White to brilliant white
To dazzling light
To starlight
Nuclear white
Calling Abe
Abe now
Hurtling headlong
Down a tunnel of brilliant light
A screaming cacophony of sonic air-filled his ears
Spinning Super hypersonic speeds
By Drones
Huge Bee like insects
Like fighter jet planes
Accompanying him into their air space
White white white
Suddenly …white
bursts into kaleidoscopic colour
Flying in
over the hive
All eyes turn skyward
Abe feels the colony welcoming him
Abe feels
Pure un bounding love
He flies
Deeper into the hive
Deeper and deeper
Deeper into the Love
His spiritual body
Starts to unravel
Organs down to cells down to atoms
Down to a single helix of DNA
Standing now
In front of the Queen
In awe
In complete connection
To Her Divine consciousness
She splices his DNA
Removing two chromosomes
She manoeuvres around him
So that her stinger
Is hovering above him
In his altered state
Abe feels no fear
Abe feels no pain
Only pure love
She moves her ovipositor into position
She lays two new strands of chromosomes
Into the missing space
The Queen nods
Abe nods in gratitude
Abe feels altered
And at a million miles an hour
Outside of Space and Time
The journey is reversed

He wakes with a jolt
Back in the laboratory
He immediately wants to go back
Far out in the bay he hears the faint squeeeeek and squeal of the Whale
Transponder still on his head translates
Undo the Hurt

Half in this world
Half connected he sees the face of Jim Morrison
Hovering above his bed
“When the music’s over…”
The lyrics swimming in his fuzzy head

“Cancel my subscription to the Resurrection”

I want to hear…..the scream of the butterfly..

Morrison now towering as the Lizard King
Menacingly Screaming…

With your ear down to the ground
We want the world and we want it…
We want the world and we want it…

Abe shivering and sweating sat bolt upright….
Roy handed him a bucket and he was violently sick…

He had now seen pure love, witnessed the violent war of the last four years and still he sees the greed of man still destroying the Earth.

Abe felt ashamed. The words of the Whale still ringing
Undo the hurt.


Part 3

Ears still ringing and the transponder still firmly fixed Abe felt giddy. He tried to rise up from the bed but Roy his valet shouted…
“ Hey slow down Sir….not so fast….you’ve not come back around properly yet”
Abe lay back on the bed.
He sensed something was wrong…..very wrong.
He saw a look of panic in Roy’s eyes….darting to the door and darting back to Abe.
Immediately, in an instant, Abe saw the needle in Roy’s hand. He looked up and saw the bright red warning light flashing silently. The transponder on his head detected a loud Whale shriek far from the bay below…
Immediately Abe found his fingers grasping the quartz prism key from his pocket, firmly in his fist. He brought it speeding up in a wide powerful arc, just as Roy bent over him to administer more drugs. He struck him on the temple with a sickening blow. Felled, Roy tried to stand, but his legs had completely buckled. Falling again, he lost consciousness, in a pool of expanding blood.
Abe, head still spinning, got to his feet and headed to the door. The door flung open and in ran two guards.
Abe was prepared.With an open palm strike he felled the first guard with a chop to the throat. The speed of the strike coupled with the guards momentum shattered the guard’s trachea and he dropped instantly to the floor gasping for breath and clutching his throat. The second guard was swiftly upon him and began to raise his weapon to take aim at Abe.
Abe instinctively grabbed the barrel of the gun and snapped a kick out hard into the guards groin. He let out a guttural groan and folded in half, releasing his grip on the gun. With the guards head now at his waist height Abe brought down the butt of the rifle onto the nape of the guards neck, with a bone cracking crunch. The guard fell to the floor, twitching in convulsing spasms. Abe cast a glance back at the flashing screen on the monitor, the words, genetically modified were flashing in red, on the cursor screen.
Abe knew, if he stayed, he was a dead man.
His throat, dry as a bone, felt constricted with panic.
He removed the transponder from his throbbing head, throwing it down to the floor.
He began to run towards the door of the lighthouse. Outside on the metal walkway, he blended in with the ecstatic crowds making their way back from their own whale experiences.
He knew he couldn’t go back to his hotel room, for the aqua police would be waiting for him.
He scanned the bay, looking for possible escape routes.
He wondered why had he triggered the alarms? Why they felt he was a threat? What the fuck was he going to do now? Why him?
The words of the Whale echoed in his mind
“Battle begins within….
Battle only you can win….”

It seemed to bolster his mettle. He gathered his thoughts together with a steely purpose.
He would, he decided, go down fighting.
The whispering words of the whale were there in the back of his altered mind….

Undo the hurt.

He set off, up the cliff side, towards the shaman village a mile or two inland from the cove. Hopefully, there he might at last find some answers.

He knew he would have to travel fast. Soon the drones would be up looking for him. He had to get answers.
On his climb up the hill, his thoughts began to drift again. He realised that it would be unlikely he would escape the authorities. Prison at best, death at worst. He turned back around to scan the horizon. He saw the whales swimming in the bay below. He saw the sun shining through the drizzle, rainbows forming in arcs.
He thought about his connection, about the hive and about the feeling of pure unadulterated love.
All of a sudden, he was scared no more. He knew love awaited his end and there was nothing to fear but fear itself.
He turned around and headed up the hill with a renewed spring in his step, the warm drizzle hazing his view ahead.
After about two miles of flat fields at the top of the cliffs Abe came across the mud huts of the shaman village. They had set up close to the coast, as they worshipped the whales..
As he headed towards the village a big black barking dog came woofing over giving away his real intentions with his wagging tail.
Abe headed into the village. He was quickly met by a very sturdy man who came over to speak to him…
“Hello…I am Cal….we have been waiting for you….come quickly ….time is short.
Cal was thick-set and looked like a Romany type gypsy.
He greeted Abe. Abe was so pleased that he spoke English.
Cal hurried Abe over to one of the huts at the end of the row.

In the round mud hut there were around twenty or so people sitting around a centre fire. There was a gloomy orange glow and the flickering orange flames danced shadows of the dark earthen walls. There was a heady smokey atmosphere as all the people sat in silence. Abe felt a little uneasy. As his eyes acclimatised to the gloomy umber glow he began to focus in on faces. There were women, children and adults all sitting in a circle. At the head of the circle was the shaman. Cal walked Abe around and sat him down next to the sage.
In front of the old man was a pot of boiling plant material giving off a bitter pungent aroma. Abe guessed that this was ayahuasca a native plant to this part of the world and rich in DMT.
The old man took Abe’s hand….his eyes rolled white in his eyes.
He let off a chant…the whole circle repeating the words in unison.
All the people now bowed to Abe.
Abe looked at Cal for answers, he bowed too.
The old man began a slow mantra.
With every word he could physically feel the adoration in the room growing and growing.
Please…said Abe…I don’t understand, what is he saying
Cal said, I will translate..

Mother Queen says you are He
Reconciler of Heaven and Earth,
The bridge of love.
Mother Queen…She has blessed You,
Reconfigured your DNA with loves intervention.
Your heart is pure to carry the code.
Love now runs in your veins.
Look to your heart…the path lies there.
You know what to do to undo the hurt.

The old mans eyes came back into his head just as the deafening whine of the trapper drones filled the air.
Search lights zip zagged in the night sky. Abe knew if he stayed here they would send the arrest bots and everyone here would be at risk.
Cal, sensing they were all in danger led Abe to a trap door at the back of the hut. In the hole was a small tram like trolley. Cal gestured to Abe to lie on it face down. Cal gave Abe a jewel encrusted dagger. It was beautiful, obviously worth a lot of money, and razor-sharp. Abe was just about to protest when Cal leaned over, showed Abe the brake, released it, and Abe began to trundle off into the darkness. The trolley began to pick up pace in the darkness. Faster and faster. The path through the tunnel was winding twisting and turning , left and right at breakneck speeds reminding Abe of the luge event at the Winter Olympics. The journey was in complete darkness. Abe had no idea what was ahead. All of a sudden Abe literally saw a light at the end of the tunnel. He reached for the break but he was travelling so fast it was too late. As he hit the light he was airborne. He felt the cold of the night and the drizzle hit his lungs.
In the moonlight he could see a large body of water about five feet below him. He hit the water hard, and immediately gasped at its freezing cold temperature. He began swimming the short distance to the shore. He crawled out onto the bank of the reservoir, teeth chattering, shivering all over.
Lying on his back, looking up at the stars he began to think of the words of the shaman.

You know what to do….undo the hurt?

He didn’t, not a clue.
He got to his feet and followed the path of the water down the valley.

He could see in the moonlight the cliff top in front of him.
All of a sudden he heard the whine of the drones and their search lights lit up the night sky.

He began to run but there was no cover.
As he ran faster, the drone honed in on him. He felt it hovering above him, the blinding lights hurting his eves.
The drone swooped down and its mechanical arms gripped around his waist.With the hiss of hydraulics he felt its clutch tighten. He was swooped up into the air up and out over the bay. He knew in his heart of hearts he was a dead man. He felt the daggers hilt in his waistband. He saw the silvery light of the moon reflected in the waters below. He pulled out the dagger and cut through the hydraulic pipe to the mechanical claw.
There was a squirt of hot oily fluid and a loud pssssssssss. He felt the grip of the right hand arm loosening. He knew if he wriggled to is right into the space he had created that the left hand grip couldn’t hold him alone. He knew by doing this he would fall the hundred plus foot into the bay below.
He fell.
As he smacked hard into the ice-cold water he knew.
This was it.
There was no escaping this.
He had no fear.
He took the dagger, ceremoniously to his throat.
Smiling, he ran the razor-sharp blade across his carotid artery. Blood oozed out of his wound into the water.
He closed his eyes just as Mother Queen welcomed him into her six outstretched arms.
Smiling , he knew, he had undone the hurt.
Krill began feeding in the fresh blood. Fish began eating the krill. Bigger fish began eating the smaller fish.
Abe’s genetics were seeding the ocean. The modified chromosomes were not broken down on digestion. They became concentrated and expanded exponentially.
Within 50 years the ocean was filled with pure love.
Within 100 years a silent revolution had occurred. Governments had become one government and one agenda, to make a harmonious reconciliation with Mother Nature.
Within 200 years the planet was healed, filled with pure all-encompassing love.
The Reconciliation had occurred.


Original written work of Tony Norton  


Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

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The Strange account of Darquer Challis and his coffin sample case By Richard Bell

 Artist Unknown

Artist Unknown

The end of a life
A return to the womb
The warm embrace of Mother Earth
Silk lined then

They say death and life
are intertwined
It is the strangest case
The oddest curio
Ever to be designed

Darquer Challis
Mortician by trade
Inside his leather sample case
Fractioned death on show
Oblivion displayed

The passing of the flesh
To a very different state
The oddities
The mortal coil

Darquer carved his pieces
from the arms and long leg bones
Paupers leave no testament
No will to then oppose
Case closed

He’d fashion with his razors
A miniaturised repose
The proportions
Of a tiny corpse
Surveyed and then supposed

The candle flame
It dipped then flared
A brand new coffin made the case
A frosted silence
Then a whisper
“Each one of us has found a place”

See Darquer lost his family
To Cholera’s swift march
All succumbed
To desiccation that
Shrivelled up his heart

His leather case
With nine proud boxes
Showed the world his craftsmanship
But once the candle
Had been snuffed
Softly open up the lids

All would sit
Around the parlour
Ghastly lights retaining shape
To have them near
Swelled up his heart
It shrank but never did it break

We are more than just the things we make

When a loved one
Passes on
They are not lost or disappeared
Like Darquer
With his coffin case
A tiny part of them is always near.

 Dan Seagrave: Horror Hosts, Chamanic Art, Death Metal

Dan Seagrave:
Horror Hosts, Chamanic Art,
Death Metal

Original written work by Richard Bell aka Rick Nightmare

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.
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Sunkenhush Knoll By Richard Bell


Long, long ago before man was a skinned rabbit behind suffocating screens, three old world schooners docked on the isolated Strangelstrath Island for the first time. The passengers and crew watched a cloud of black birds burst above the high tree tops and melt into the grey mists as though watered down on an artists pallet. On the shore lay a beached whale, its huge eye blanched and the tongue taken from the mouth and dragged away. Through a hole in the side of its face they could see that the mouth was filled with rocks.
A most unnerving welcome.
It was winter and the red cloud storms gathered in vast sheets blanketing the earth with bone chilling, white powdered silence. But the silence was reserved for the distant sun and blazing silver lights of the endless firmament.
It was this wilderness at the top of the world, that the settlers, lead by the one-eyed Brigadier, Kestor Vankenblud, had set out to find and create a new Eden away from the corruption and chaos after war. The omen at the beach had set tongues wagging and, as they ventured further into the island, an uneasy feeling was packed in ice when faced with the blackness of the deep forest.
Their first night, under thick canvas tents, saw four perish with horrified expressions etched on their faces and eyes blanched of colour like the snow.
Wanting to lay them to rest in the reverence of an elevated place, closer to the bosom of their benevolent god, they carried the bodies over the river, up the steep hill and into the hollow.
In this place, the soil looked black with a deep red shine and large black birds sat in menacing trees at either side, presiding over events like a demonic parliament. Kestor ordered the white-eyed dead to be buried in a pit and covered in the pages of the holy text. Their mouths were filled with stones and their hands and feet tied together in prayer. The soil that covered them sprinkled with blessed water and large stones marked the boundary where no one may set foot beyond.
The settlement grew around the river on the north bank as the south had been agreed to house the dead, swelling in numbers, night after night.
Brigadier Kestor Vankenblud knew how to allay the irrational fears as he did with his troops at Waterloo and his strong booming voice and single deep green eye commanded the respect to listen and heed the warnings to stay out of the forest after dark. Everything else was their civic duties and those who broke his laws were walked into the deep waters and taken by the undercurrents.
Soon more schooners arrived with settlers and a port grew up with roads and a little town. They fished, hunted, farmed and revelled in their bountiful haven. But death had claimed sixty-one of their number and the bodies, interred at the hollow, began to be seen at nightfall wandering the woods, white eyed and grizzling.
Were they strange hallucinations? Shapes in the night mists? Illusions formed from gases released from the earth?
All could have been an answer except that they followed the hum.
Deeper into the sprawling forest than anyone had dared venture, was the hum, a low raw throated sound that swelled above the hollow and drifted into the town, on the darkest of nights. It filled hearts and minds with dread and sparked tales of devils consorting with the dead to pervert the work of their god.
The mysterious deaths began to get less and less but the pitch black hum continued with homes shut up tight and windows and doors locked and covered.
It was as if a terrible presence walked the dark streets looking for souls to invade and their beautiful colours wrenched out of the eyes.
The legend had a name and that name was The Scrall.
It was the sixth winter and the hollow graveyard stretched beyond the curve of the river and came to the edge of the forest. Under that black and red soil lay one hundred unnatural deaths held in place by the word of their god and the blessed water from his divine communion.
But the dead were restless and followed a calling.
The grizzling gowl of the Scrall.
On a sharp toothed, pitch dark November evening, two teenaged boys defied the supernatural curfew and crossed the river to the south lands to finally see for themselves what all the hullabaloo was about. They secured the coracle on a felled tree that jutted into the fast flow and lit their battered oil lanterns. The forest rippled in a light breeze and reflected eyes studded its bristled hide like gems on velvet.
As they walked further into the myriad of spiny trunks and carpet of scented needles, they began to hear the low groan. It started as a whisper from a deathbed and grew into the gut wrenching growl that sent everyone scurrying indoors until sunrise.
In the heart of the forest flickering firelight in a clearing pushed plumes of acrid smoke high above the treetops and dusted the white clouds with evil soot.
Then the smell hit them.
This was a heady mixture of rotten fish, decaying pig meat and something else.
Something older and from the awful darkness that seeped up from hell to chase the sun away.
Walking into the clearing they stopped still, agog.
It was Brigadier Kestor Vankenblud, naked and smeared with bloody symbols. All round him the risen dead, plastered with holy text and smouldering a deep green miasma from their mouths. Their eyes glowed white in the firelight and their grotesque shapes shambled around in circles, protecting the Brigadier from the sighted intruders.
“Gaze upon the resurrected taken for ye be humble before the spirits of the roots.” The Brigadier removed his eyepatch to reveal a smouldering white eye that sent all the dead towards a hill at the back of the clearing. They climbed up and arranged themselves in circles descending to the base.
“Witness and be damned, sighted saplings of men. We have found his resting mound and tonight he will rise to crush the scourge of mankind.
Ohran gethedriac mehrest vovas
Nepas zeldorot cuth sepesto
Leprendius nowineth corocun
Pazca pazca grongurth.”
The two boys sunk to their knees, gasping for breath as a blizzard of pine needles filled the air. They could make out the dead melting into each other in a hissing green smog as a huge black shaggy shape rose high above the firelight and opened two grotesque yellow eyes. It lumbered towards Brigadier Kestor and slowly opened a giant mouth filled with barbed teeth and the unholiest of growls.
“Was that sound from him?” snivelled one of the boys.
Kestor smiled an insidious broad smile and raised a long horn tied to a leather strap. He swung it round and round his head as the low growl they feared so much sounded like a hellish siren.
After a moment he dropped the horn and raised his arms high above his head.
“I am the first taste of the flesh for thee, great beast. Devour and taste your enemy. Be avenged for their desecrating blasphemy.”
The huge mouth of the beast slowly swallowed the Brigadier to his midriff then the teeth cleaved him leaving his legs and naval spurting blood into the fiery night.
It chewed, swallowed and fixed its gaze on the boys.
That was the last night that people lived on Strangelstrath Island.
Each night two yellow eyes opened and a low growl filled the trees sending plumes of black birds high in the sky to melt into the darkness and the absence of mankind.


Original written work by Richard Bell aka Rick Nightmare

**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**

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**

Bared Teeth By Richard Bell


Watch this, you won’t believe it, another obscene thing to view
Leave your morals in your pockets
Where your hands are firmly glued
See the horror as it unfolds
Closed captioning the pain
Feign disgust and fake revulsion
There are thousands just the same
Life is cheap in twenty seconds
Life is one trite line of grief
Life has no depth only band width
Clench your fist and bare your teeth
Drive past carnage with a camera
Take a Selfie with a corpse
Hijack pleas with soulless venom
Use all caps to exert force
See the monsters in their face masks
Making legends out of fiends
Breeding bug-eyed and desensitized
Leeches sucking on their screens
Life is crass in ‘rate my shit’ land
Life is targeted beliefs
Life has barbs and jagged edges
Clench your fist and bare your teeth
God is not here today
He is in the palms of charlatans
Why not try the other way?
The Black goat and his red shill plans
Look at the mess we made
It is scattered by the barreling winds
What can be worse than, say,
A child of war collecting up its skin?
Or starved to bones and paper-thin
And worse still subject to vile spin
The open arms of death is their chagrin
Like – A fight that took a life
Like – A mask and bloody knife
Like – The bone destroying stunt
Like – A bomb that takes out c**ts
Like – The urban legend tales
Like – The endless f**king fails
Like – It all looks very real
but I can’t connect or feel the awful pain, the aftermath
The terabytes of terror, frights
This space I float around in
Is so vast.
See this, you won’t believe your eyes, gruesome and disgusting
All hail the hoaxes and the troll spats and the bitch face resting
The sewage flows at break neck speed and endless with a crust of memes
The traffic breathes the stench through vents and virals course inside the steam
Life is dragged behind wild horses
Life through lenses blackened wreaths
Life is scalds from boiling anger
Clench your fist and bare your teeth.
The cornered tiger snarls at hunters
Defiant before death’s release
The savage and the beautiful
Clench their fists and bare their teeth.

horror film 'Teeth & Blood,

horror film ‘Teeth & Blood

Original written work of Richard Bell aka Rick Nightmare

**Click on any Image to redirect to the images webpage/designer where it has been provided.
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Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

To the haters and the nefarious – by Richard Bell


Mrs Buckley died today.

The weirdest thing; a deep black cloud settled over her ramshackle house and descended to shroud it in mourning.
The house of Mrs Buckley.
The house where Mrs Buckley had died.
It had a strange aloneness to it.
Like the child in the playground away from it all staring up into worlds beyond dreams, above the painful taunts and punches.
Nature had invaded the bricks and mortar with creepers and the shingles were weathered to splintered wafers.
The picket fence was a few sparse sticks that had not been claimed for firewood through the harsh winter and her black path to the deep green front door, a spattering moss clumps and snotty algae.
Inside the unremarkable home, her body hummed like electric wires in her chair by the fire. The last expression on her face was as though she had been kissed goodnight by a long line of life’s regrets. But it was the last regret, the one with horns and a tail and a story to tell, that left her a screaming skull, her eyes bleached and smashed with black threads.
In her bed, under her sheets, curled up in neat balls were the skewered tongues of her imperfect children.
Their bones and flesh were all ground and purged in mummy’s guts.
All except Delia, who lived in the cage with the words ‘saint inside’ carved above the door. She had been born a mute so never made the mistake of asking a question. She saw all her brothers and sisters fed the silence scone and chopped up into the boiling pot. She had to pretend that they were pigs from the woods and chew the meat from their bones.
She had to pretend that they had never spoken to her from the bars of the cage.
She had to pretend that she couldn’t taste the soap on the meat and the cries of pain in its juices.
Tap, tap, tap…claw, claw, claw…
Hour by hour her raw little fingertips and shredded nails picked at the bindings of the cage.
“I know where they live. The Tormenters and their kind. What I know is how to turn agony into fear like an alchemist. That is my gift to you my little caged saint.” Each time her mother spoke, more black threads invaded her dead eyes and Mrs Buckley walked further into the blackness of the far-flung horrors.
“I will travel with you my little caged saint. I will creep with you into their safety boxes and, once inside, you shall pick apart their bindings. I made this cage for you to find a way out. I took all the unworthy and fed you their nourished flesh. Know this, the worthless are there to feed upon.
Under this house, under its boards and into the stones are the Departers. They are the things that make the sperm so that we can find saints in our bellies. All of the worthless ones that talked as the Departers talked, before flying the nest and leaving us with their share of burden, ended more than bones but less than them.
As their part ended, so they ended and were put under the boards to stink then return to their fires under the soil.”
Days turned to electric night shine and Delia, with dulled nerve endings and a ravening for freedom, loosened the fastenings. The last day was quiet as her mother was lost in the blackness or so she assumed.
The bars of the cage fell away and clattered onto the cold tiles of the kitchen. They came to rest next to discarded bones, gnawed into the marrow by a hungry child and tied together to make the signs of saints.
Delia crawled slowly from her confinement and stood for the first time an equal to world. She wandered into the front room and sat at her mother’s feet staring at the vermin-chewed, stinking remnants of her body.
“My freed saint, you are ready to exact vengeance for your mother. My body is in ruin but my spirit is like our black cloud that has settled over the house. I will be above you in a cloud of shadows and we even the score. They were the wolves that every day blew at the piggy’s house. The Departers only want to rid their seed, everything before is seduction and everything after is reduction. Now go to the kitchen and open the cupboard with the red hand print and bring it all here.”
Delia shivered as a cold draught whistled in through the open window and curled an icy claw round her long gown. The post mountain at the front door had collapsed to a snow drift of white envelopes across the hall floor.
As she entered the kitchen, she swore her siblings ran through her screaming like bats emerging from the attic of a haunted house.
The large cooking pot was upturned and a dozen sharp knives lay around it. In the bottom, in the slurry of the last meal, were two jaw bones and one green eyeball. She reached in, plucked the eyeball out and slipped it into her mouth to swallow like a raw egg. The red hand print cupboard door was stiff but she pulled it open and pulled out a black bag which she dutifully took to her mother.
“Thank you my freed saint. Open the bag and take out all that is held within.”
The rain began to pound the roof and water poured in through the holes in the window. Delia opened the bag and tipped the contents on the floor at her mother’s feet.
“My last will and testament to you my child. This is what you must become to punish the vile creatures that tormented us and who stopped my heart with fright. Take off your saints robes and put on the skin of retribution.”
Delia put her feet into a black suit and rolled it up her body to the neck and over her shaved head.
On her feet, black ballet shoes and her hands black surgeon’s gloves. What was left on the floorboards was several tufts of hair, a paring knife and a syringe with a long needle. Inside the syringe a thick liquid writhed with parasites.
“On your body is the cover of night, as your weapon the infestation of squirm and the blade to take a trophy. On floor are my trophies. Tonight you will better them and scalp six. Remember my avenging angel, I’m at your shoulder. You shall deliver the poison and I will show them the red hand door to hell. We must go and do this before the dawn and I am drawn up into the cloud. Tomorrow you must build a life here and rid this home of all the skeletons and then me. It is then that you can unfold your wings and the up draught shall drive the blackness and spirits from here.
Come, follow me child and we will begin. The first stop is the house on the corner.”
Delia pushed the door, climbed the stairs as if she was thistle-down on the breeze and made her way into the room of the first of the six. She strode to his bedside and climbed under his sheets. Crawling slowly up his legs, across his belly and to his chest, her black shadow mother appeared at her shoulder and the fiercest grimace from the abyss blanched the boy’s eyes and froze him stiff. The needle slid with ease into his jugular and the twisting parasites flooded into his brain along with the whispered horrors of hell’s obscenities. He jolted and spasmed, snapping sinew and tendon then a sickening crack ended it all.
Each of the six visits played out the same and the morning broke with the last white-eyed corpse.
As she discarded her clothes and weapons, the cloud dissipated like ink in water and was gone.
Delia stood in front of her mother and drew a breath,
“I am free to speak as an angel and as a Departer. This world needs both. The angel to live a life with love and a Departer to destroy those who would stand against it.”
Delia rebuilt her home. It stood on the bones of father’s, brother’s and in the centre, Mrs Buckley.


Original written work by Richard Bell


Protected by The Grue Asylum Vaults 2015

Protected by The Grue Asylum Vaults 2015

**Click on any Image to redirect to the images webpage/designer where it has been provided.
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Run by Tony Norton

Forest Spirit by FilipeHattori .

Forest Spirit by FilipeHattori

How they pass by so quickly
I grow weary of Eternity
I live Forever

I am the Spirit of Forest
I feel its bleeding beating heart
Rhythmically in Sync with mine
We are ONE
Hear me –
in the still of silence
I echo through valleys of creaking pregnant pines
Our frequencies are ONE
Smell me-
I am in the scented sweet sickly sap
that bleeds from the scratched bark
Our scent’s – ONE
Demon Piercing Howls
They reverberate
transcending vibrational bonds
Connecting us to the spirit world
Oh Gitchie Manitou –
I pray –
Grant my passage between our dimensions
That I may cross
To this world
To do your bidding
Let my hot billowing breath
Cloud the cold crisp air
Let me anoint this realm
Weak Man
you will…
Bow in AWE of My Powerful Jaw
for the burden of justice has been bestowed upon me
I am lycanthropus
I am the bringer of truth
I see through your transparent soul
Black Crystal Purity
He Has Bestowed on Me
I am the bastard child of the darkness
soak into the darkness
Drench in the shifting shadows of the night
I come to you
in the shafts of silvery lunar moonlight
We are Children of the Moon
Stare into my cold cobalt blue eyes
And know this –
You are mine…..
I am a manifestation of Nature
I am human, I am beast
We two are ONE…
I am a Remembrance from your God
That wandering souls get lost to the darkness
That Natures spirit lives
I am the Lord of all Midnight souls
I take You
I take Your throat
I take Your sex
I take Your sweet lifeblood
I take all of You
I damn Your soul
I condemn You to the endless night
Exalt Me
I am Wolf
You will join Me
Let My howls
Haunt Your dreams
My music plays in Your screams
Run Wild
Run Rampant
Run Free


Featured image by Rafunsel  Jul 12, 2013 Hobbyist Digital Artist

Original written work by Tony Norton

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**