Abandoned House by Richard Bell

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Larissa managed to crawl free from the wreckage and make it to the other side of the road, her bloody left leg and arm leaving a Jackson Pollock spatter across the wet tarmac.
Four mangled vehicles lay strewn across the winding country road and huge plumes of steam became ghost screams into the weak morning light. The sole survivor, Larissa Bartholomew, snatched a smirk as she remembered how much her boyfriend hated ‘last girl standing’ movies – with a passion!
In all directions, the Scandinavian countryside proliferated like a million biker beards and shrieking black birds darted across the gap in the skyline, bound for the other side with the dead from the catastrophic accident.
The Elk lived for a few minutes before succumbing to its massive injuries. Drunken Elks, wasted on fermented apples, often stagger into the road, unaware of the dangers.
She looked back and snatched another smirk at the tiny saloon car with a fuck off moose hood ornament!
The rains had softened the verge to mush and she slipped and fell into a gully that followed the road like racing snakes. Winter was fast approaching and the nights sunk to a madness-inducing damp chill.
“Ahoooooooooyyyyyyy!” She yelled from her supine position, fully aware that wolves and bears were the eyes in the deep black woods.
“It is a womb bearer and she sheds her scarlet waters.” The tiny voice seemed to come from behind her but she couldn’t see what it was in her blurred shock.
“This is the foretold in the parchment. Muster the unalive bearers and convey the delivered to Straahl. The ceremony has outnumbered one and ten black suns.”
A vague mist enveloped Larissa, lying in her soggy dip in the world and she wondered if the voices and the exquisite floral scent were dying memories.
She began to scream until…
The huge hand that covered her mouth was all that was needed to shut down this nightmare to a dark sleep and hiccuping breaths.
Her dream was a fast flowing river in the night under a clear sky and a myriad of lights. The stars seemed like Chinese lanterns released by the universe to remember the dead. The river increased the flow and straight ahead was a huge waterfall but flowing upwards! Her body sailed up the frothing waters as salmon swam past her at dolphin speed. As she reached the top and over the crest, her eyes widened in sheer terror as a giant hooded creature lay ahead. She could make out the glinting fangs as the river flowed right into its gaping maw.
“Wake me from this…NOW!”
Her body moved inside the great jaws and she felt herself pounding on the roof of the mouth, then the throat and all the way into the stomach, flames leaping and shrill voices pleading in agony and…
Her eyes moved independently inside their sockets as she slowly came round. She realized that her surroundings had changed but couldn’t see the skies above the treetops.
Faint pairs of pinprick lights, she understood to be blinking eyes, flashed off and on in the crepuscular tree trunk army surrounding this clearing. She could make out an oddly geometric shape in front of her but dismissed it as fallen branches and happenstance.
“Stand upright, you, child of dire misfortune. Walk of you own volition into my realm and sit by my fireplace.”
As she raised herself up, two black lanterns, suspended in mid-air, burst into flames revealing a beautifully crafted hut, exuding the mist in swirling snowflake patterns.
“Are you Straahl?” She uttered through chattering teeth, the chill nipping her extremities.
“Knock with the staff on the face of the beast and choose the number of strikes from your first instinct.”
The door was arched and blood-red with the most hideous black demonic face, tongue outstretched and brow furrowed to almost no eyes, except two deep Violet diamonds that pulsated hypnotically.
She grabbed the staff by the door, swung out at full stretch then brought it cracking into the tongue of the vile thing.
“Three more I think and we’ll see what you have in store for sweet little Larissa, crash orphan and shedder of scarlet water.” Her sarcasm rippled the mist into agonized faces and death grin skulls before returning to snowflakes upon the last strike.
“Let me in, I’m freezing out here!” She murmured.
The lanterns suddenly fell to earth, transformed into a huge black millipede and scuttled off into the inky blackness that the open door revealed to her.
“Take a seat by the fire and warm your scarlet water, crash orphan. I will join you after your refreshments.”
Larissa moved with cat-like stealth inside the dark space and, once a few strides in, the door slammed shut, cracked and disappeared as she found herself in a round room with deep red walls and a floor that was a still black pool of water.
The fireplace was a beautiful ornate stove fire with a large pewter tankard on top, steaming and smelling delicious. She sat in the chair, which was the lantern millipede, sipped her delicious drink and stared into the odd violet flames in the stove.
“This is unusual but hospitable and I thank you for saving me from the wolves and bears, Straahl. Whoever you are? Sorcerer? Hermit? Zombie Apocalypse Survivor? I thank you.” Larissa felt her wounds healing and a strange warmth fill her up from the toes.
“I am shocking to see, crash orphan…”
“Please, call me Larissa.”
“Larissa, I am an elemental. I exist outside your laws but inside your lore. I ask that you see me as something natural beyond your perspective not unnatural beyond your comprehension. They made Satyr and Devil of me in their nightmare texts, but I am the scales of the land and sea and skies. I am underneath world and high above world meeting to a harmonious tune. May I present to you, Straahl.”
The stove fire creaked and groaned and shaped into a hideous tall black cloaked creature. She instantly recognized it from her dream but it was too late. Giant jaws clamped around her torso and bore down, slicing her in two. Then a huge tongue picked up the legs and shoved it deep into its throat. Her last view was her bloody sneakers passing by to fall over the waterfall and into the flames of agony.
“Kids, they’ll swallow anything. Actually, so will I.” The creature bellowed with laughter then shot the tongue out to wipe against a rough tree bark.
“I really hate cocoa butter!” He growled before slinking into the blinking eyes forest and the realm of disbelief.

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Original written work of Richard Bell aka @rick_nightmare

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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 web page/designer where it has been provided.
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Challenge Yourself Group Work – You by Tony Norton

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Sweet Sunshine
Its hot soothing caresses
On My glad face
The Sunshine Seeps Stomach Deep
Blue Lapping Ocean
Calming Lullaby
Focusing
My Minds Eye
Lovingly Capturing
A Photographic Still

A Snapshot of
Eternity
Eternity is You

YOU

(At the CENTRE of it All)

Eternity is You
A Snapshot of
A Photograph Still
Lovingly Capturing
My Minds Eye
Focusing
Calming Lullaby
Blue Lapping Ocean
The Sunshine Seeps Stomach Deep
On My glad face
It’s hot soothing caresses
Sweet Sunshine

….and around and around and around we go
for You and I both know
Love is Always the Answer
Eternally

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Original written work by Tony Norton aka @iwilltwittowho

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Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

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Freewill Writers Asylum – Friday Challenge – Nightmare by Richard Bell

Shrill by Richard Bell

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“Worthless, weak, stupid, pathetic, spineless, idiotic, dog shit!”
They pushed, they kicked, they knocked, they accused, they vandalised and slurred. They pushed and pushed and pushed and…
“It is time to show them the host.
Your good nature has suppressed this for far too long and now that nature is torn out of your soul.
There is no restraint on the creature.
You, now, are he.”
His thick fingers bent to meet the back of his hands. The cracking was masked by shrill, agonised screams of unbearable pain. The jaw dislocated and moved to the side of his head forcing his underbite to shear off the tip of his nose. Gargling and gasping for breath, the neck distended and lunged back with the head to the shoulder blades. As they met, he spat blood down the back of his legs and heaved as the spine snapped and folded him in a neat half. His feet facing east and his sawn off nose, to the west. All around the baying group, bones snapped like dry branches and blood fountains spattered the concrete yard. It was as though a hundred invisible strong men had moved among them all and began to fold the callous tormentors.
Silence like the centre of a cloud bank ran through the onlookers, only broken by the occasional crack or snap of joints and ligaments.
The great horn sounded and the folded mess of broken bullies rose to the feet and began to dance and shuffle as though they were hideous marionettes. The carnival music, supplied by a gramophone wound in a fury by bald cats, made the scene utterly absurd.
The blasts began on the horizon and moved ever closer, tearing up huge mounds of populated earth and vaporizing it in mid-air. Giant chariots carrying gods and waving royalty streaked above the blast clouds under a stampeding herd of white buffalo.
My body was liquefying and draining into the mouth of a bullfrog. I was glad to slide into his innards and the quiet dell filled with ferns and mossy trees, small waterfalls and great hosts of bluebells.
The last glimpse of the world was everybody as they were before the attack. They walked into the bright lights and were no more.
“Your true nature won the fight and here is your eternal rest. Not in the flames of horror but the pond where your family lost their lives when the car careened off the road.
Fill your lungs with the green water and sink into heaven, dear child.
You have earned that peace.”

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Original written story by Richard Bell aka Rick Nightmare.

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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 web page/designer where it has been provided.
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Challenge Yourself -Asylum After Dark – The Remedy by Crimson Quintessence

Counting The Days To Insanity

Counting The Days To Insanity

The Challenge:   The power just went out and all Asylum doors are unlocked.

The power just went out and all Asylum doors are unlocked.
Tonight my horrible honeys I’ve made you a murderer.
You writing challenge is this:
A short story or poem.
You get 1 chance to commit only 1 murder.
Make it count…

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Sit there, if you will,

whimpering in your dark little corner.

I can hear your knees knocking together from here on my perch.

Your yellow drug-stained teeth, rattling together like a broken awning swinging in high winds.

I can even hear the rush of air from your sphincter clenching shut.

Guess that worries you some, considering where you house your head most of your waking hours.

My heels click as I stride across the marble floor having jumped from my perched observation point in the house, echoing in your ears like rapid-fire shots out of a machine gun.

My face calm, my breath slow and steady, tapping my favorite weapon of choice in my left palm, licking my lips in anticipation of the assault you’re about to receive.

Sit still!

squirming coward, your movements will only make your punishment last longer.  

No matter to me, I’d enjoy the delay and your cries of agony.

I smirk as I remember how I got you here.

You thought midnight romp.

I knew something far different.

When I ripped the cord of the lamp from the west wall I didn’t think of the lamps weight, not at all.

In fact, it happened so fast I’m not sure I registered thought much at all.

But, I felt, oh, how I felt.

Rage,

a searing heat, 

it rose from deep inside me.

Explosive!

ravenous almost.

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I swung that lamp at your head like a professional baseball player swinging at his last-chance grand-slam in the world series.

Carr-aaack!

The hit heard around the world,

and just like that,

blood-spatter, and out you went.

Dragging your lanky-ass over to Nana’s wing-back chair came easy to me.

There was so much adrenaline coursing through me, I felt like a freight-train on full-throttle, no brakes.

The barbed-wire was fun, wrapping it around you like a python wraps itself around its prey.

Almost made me orgasmic,

then you twitched and took my moment from me.

Son-of-a-bitch!

Still, you try to take control.

But that’s okay,

I’m not upset,

not about that any way.

I’m going to take my time with you my dear, oh, yes, I am.

I remember that first night when we were at Dale’s party.

You said you had a surprise for me and took me upstairs.

Then, like the pig you are, you dropped your pants and I said wow, that’s my surprise, you brought me up here to show me a penis?

Yes, you said, with a smart-ass grin on your face.

Then you changed your tone and said well?

I said well what?

And you and your arrogant tongue spit out — Wax it.

How vile I thought, but we both know that I left my teeth marks in your dick that night,

don’t we darling?

Look at you, all dressed up like mommy’s little blonde cherub.

Too bad she doesn’t know what a nasty little cunt of a man you really are.

But I’m going to remedy that, I’ll show her on your behalf when I fillet you and pose you like an awkward statue impaled on a spigot and run through on your front lawn.

Hannibal would be so proud to know me right now.

You my dearest have been weighed and measured and you’ve been found wanting.

This will be the remedy of all remedies.

A song for all melodies.

Your undoing.

Your fate.

Lifeless, like the squished slug by the garden gate.

Gone and forgotten.

Dust in the wind.

My arms raised,

the blows came,

the remedy delivered.

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Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

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Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

**Click on any Image to redirect to the images web page/designer where it has been provided.
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Freewill Writers Asylum Friday Challenge – Asylum After Dark by Richard Bell

Counting The Days To Insanity

Counting The Days To Insanity

The Challenge:   The power just went out and all Asylum doors are unlocked.

The power just went out and all Asylum doors are unlocked.
Tonight my horrible honeys I’ve made you a murderer.
You writing challenge is this:
A short story or poem.
You get 1 chance to commit only 1 murder.
Make it count…

Silence 2.0 by Richard Bell

Am I Going Insane? by Syllirium

Am I Going Insane? by Syllirium

“L O L A Lola, Lola, L O L A…”
“Quit singing that fucking song! You know that I enjoy the extra surprise underneath the skirt, Streeks. These walls are thin, even with the soft furnishing and our psycho ponchos. The storm is on the way, my sinuses are never wrong. It’s going to be a big one, as in ‘lights out’ big one.”
The brick and plaster bounced echoes around the corridors of Rothenburg Asylum, delighting some of the more lucid guests with the conversation and eliciting furious howling from the ‘way beyond help’ crew in the Extra Tight.
Permit me to introduce myself, I’m Yakuza Streeks, former head of catering at Jim Jones…just kidding…I ran my own business delivering meals to the old folks. One day I just stepped out of my skull and added a dozen Carolina Reaper peppers to the risotto and the rest, as they say, is history. Forty seriously ill and two dead. The arresting officer had a grandma that I gave the fire shits to so he pepper sprayed me on the hour for a week. They tested me and threw me in here to cool off! The guy I’m singing Lola to, that’s Cold Slab. He liked the boys dressed as girls but wasn’t much of a conversationalist. When they finally raided his home, they found three chest freezers full of transvestites and his whole house was painted in lipstick – even the windows. That’s when they dubbed him the Decorophiliac! No sense of humor and a cock like a midget’s thumb. I’m not politically correct so don’t expect Germaine Greer. We’ve got them all in here, the snapped, the ground down, the ragers, a few deities and then there’s Silence.
Now there is the top of the psycho’s pyramid.
Silence amassed a body count of around a thousand, so they estimate. He started when he was ten and was a ghost taking hitchhikers up and down the west coast, killing two or three at a time and always with the same MO. He took the tongue and the little toe on the right foot. They only caught him when his lock up where he kept all the trophies got prime-time exposure when they opened it up on Storage Hunters.
True story.
“So the storms coming, eh? What time will it hit, Cold Slab…Cold Sla…”
Darkness.
The power is out and, yes, the door is open. I’m going to upgrade my status from mischief-maker to outright unhinged, full on lunatic. I’m going after Silence.
The black corridors are a walk in my memories and I figure two more turns and I’m at the cage door to Extra Tight.
I can hear Silence snoring.
Good.
I’ll sneak in like Ramirez and powder choke him. Got a fist full of plaster dust and I’m stuffing it into his throat like he’s Linda Lovelace.
I have a better idea. I’m going to skin him and walk out of here in a Silence suit.
Got my shiv and I cut and cut in the darkness. Following the contours then just peel back and step in. He smells bad skinned like fish fart breath on a week old corpse. I used to find them delivering my meals.
Door after door just swings open with no power and I find a bag in the laundry truck to secrete myself.
Tomorrow, when the storm is gone, another one will start. Silence will resume the spree as me.
Silence 2.0!

Sane Painting - Insanity by Kim Gauge

Sane Painting – Insanity by Kim Gauge

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

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**Click on any Image to redirect to the images web page/designer where it has been provided.
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Freewill Writers Asylum Friday Challenge – Cries in the Dead of Night by Richard Bell

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Your Writing Challenge:

Late last night you woke to the sound of someone crying. It was loud and frightening.
You wanted to check it out but there’s something in the room, in the dark, watching you…
Write a very short story of this situation and how you get through it.

Walk Again, Suzy Dead Legs.

“You shitting bastards! Come back here right now. Right now!”
Suzy sat in the creeping darkness and sobbed, desperate for her eyes to become accustomed to the gloom. Her isolation, now that her fake friends had brought her to this ruin and abandoned her at breakneck speed, was a pair of chilled hands around the throat.
“Breakneck!” She let out a shuddering giggle between the terrified sobs and thumped her shrivelled legs, delivering metallic twangs from her wheelchair to all corners of the cavernous place.
The rippling evening sun fell below the tree line and only shards of broken glass became visible, even to her black circles for eyes.
For a moment she thought she saw someone enter the smashed front door and glide across the garbage strewn floor.
She stared intensely, desperate to discern anyone in this salacious local landmark.
Her heart had made its way to the roof of her mouth, heightening the senses to the sensitively of a spider web.
What was that in the cor…
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggghhhhhhh!”
Suzy’s fright spasm was so huge it tipped the chair sideways on the uneven floor, sending her into a pile of rags, leaves and old newspapers.
She was desperate to find out where the scream came from and if they had come for her.
She rolled herself onto her side and sat up against the freezing wall in the alcove.
“Is anybody there, please? I’m para…my fucking legs don’t work thanks to a drunk driver and I want to get home before I need to crap. Anybody there? ANYBODY?”
The bird song died with a gust of wind and silence shrivelled the echoes of the settling to faint cracks and pops.
Suzy fixed her gaze to the far corner of the room and stifled a breath.
“Hello…can you speak? I know that you’re there. Please talk to me, I’m scared and I can’t run and I don’t want to die in this shit hole.”
A deep growling hiss came from the darkness and a flash of light reflected from two blinking eyes.
Suzy tried to shuffle across the floor but her hands slid into large chunks of metal and glass and she shrieked loudly before crying uncontrollably.
The growl grew in intensity from the corner as the huge scream violently pierced the quiet.
“Please, I don’t want to die. Please help me. They took my phone and left me in this place and ran away and I want to go home. I just want to go ho…”
“I want your soul for company.”
Suzy thumped her legs again muttering profanities and imploring them to work again and let her run away from the horror.
“I want your
SOUL!”
Charging towards her from the gloom was a huge shaggy figure breathing loudly and staring at her with pulsating red eyes.
Suzy clutched her chest as red-hot needles shot across her arm and jaw blasting stars in this Stygian hole.
Her last breath was used cursing the fuckers that left her to this.
“Suzy? Suzy, are you ok? Suzy?”
The shaggy figure threw off his suit and hit the halogen lights around the room.
The others came running in.
“Did we get her? We got you Suzy. We got you goo…”
The group assembled around her body.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggghhhhhhhh!”
The lights blew simultaneously as a deep growling voice came from the rafters,
“I want your souls!”

godmachine-creep-print

godmachine-creep-print

Original written work of Richard Bell aka Rick Nightmare

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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 Weekends – In the Dead of Night by Christie Evans

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The Writing Challenge:

Late last night you woke to the sound of someone crying. It was loud and frightening.
You wanted to check it out but there’s something in the room, in the dark, watching you…
Write a very short story of this situation and how you get through it.

 

It was 3:30am on a brisk fall night in Ireland. I was awoken to a loud crying shriek of a noise. Looking out the window the moon was full and bright, almost red. The wind was howling. As I looked around eyes barely functioning but fully dilated, I realize that sound is coming from inside the castle walls. I am now fixed and focused on the dark shadow in front of me. It’s the outline of a female. She is wailing and sobbing immensely. Her face beautiful and almost transparent. When I realize what she is my heart has sunk. She is a banshee, one who cries out in mourning for the dead. As I think to myself, no one has recently died. I didn’t know what to do. So I turned over to the love of my life to wake him for his wise advice. I touch his shoulder gently as to not frighten him. There was no response. So I tried harder to awaken him without any sign of life. My heart sinks again. It is my love the Banshee is crying for. The love of my life lay lifeless beside me and now I now shriek and cry with this Banshee. Heart broken to the core all I can do is say goodbye.

banshee_by_chriscold-d6lmyyn

Original Written Work by Christie Evans

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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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I hold no ownership to any image used unless otherwise stated**

Challenge Yourself Weekend – Enter The Asylum

You have all entered The Asylum, received your Straight Jacket and been shown to your room.
What happens next is up to you…..
Write a story featuring someone with a strong (or problem) character trait.
Throw a wrench into their nice, everyday routine.
See what happens.
Don’t feel the need to explain the ‘how’ if something unusual is happening (i.e. talking dolls, house-hold objects that activate themselves; out-of-body/time experiences). Just focus on what it means for your character.

Arkham Asylum

Anthony Psychotic by Richard Bell

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“There’s a star man waiting in the sky He’d like to come and meet us

But he thinks he’d blow our minds
There’s a star man waiting in the sky..”
The gurney wheel squeaks David Bowie into my medicated mind via throbbing ears and features that have melted like a Dali clock. I’m a cocktail of meds beneath my stinking bloody skin and the strip lights above me flash a deep web message between blinks.
“The dog would eat his own shit but wouldn’t take a bite out of this sphincter chunk!” I hear one orderly quip and the other reply with a nonchalant “Uh huh!”
This place smells like bleach and piss and screams.
“There’s a star man waiting in the…”
“Quiet you twisted pissflap!” snarls the big-mouthed orderly whilst the other one mutters “Uh huh” under his breath.
The daydreams of adolescence plunge into a night sea and you sink until the sea bed clutches the blue limbs with dread. That’s when the fish swim by, just out of sight, and tell you who to kill. They whisper it through the rip tide and the sway of the kelp then they dart away to the ocean. Only then can I swim to the surface and dredge up the bad me. That’s when I’m at my bloody best. When my sea bed self rises to the surface to inflict the sickness of the depths onto the selected.
I’m bound up tight, gagged with a mask that prevents me tasting my prey and locked into a heavily stained padded room.
This must have housed some bat-shit crazies because the walls are gouged and bloody and shitty and offer some strange other-worldly philosophies.
I love the art of the broken mind.
I love the unrelenting sadness of thoughts out of reach of help. Stranded…
“The planet earth is blue and there’s nothing I can do…”
“Shut up in there, you shit pipe jizz shot!” yells the Mouth without his “Uh huh” back up.
I did some bad things to some good people and I can’t decide which me wanted it more. I can’t decide if Sea Bed Me or Amount to Nothing Me did those things. The media pigs called me Ziggy when the Police found my signature cut into the soles of the feet. I think David would approve. He was an artist like me. He was ridiculed and misunderstood but later his genius was recognised. I’m no genius though. My work is battery and gouge with hot wire graffiti on the body. Before they stop screaming, they’re just the sketch but after the glazed eye silence, they become the canvas.
My body was a hot wire canvas for mummy and daddy to work on when the booze wore off and they could focus on their dissatisfaction.
My last victim was my china girl. That’s the one that got me caught.
She put her finger on my lips and told me “Shh-Shh!” I untied her and she left. She was the only canvas that understood his genius.
Then he walked away from me.
He left Sea Bed Me and Amount to Nothing Me to face the cold truth without the music playing.
She’s in here with me hanging my canvasses around the dirty walls. They’re all here.
All with different songs and meanings, hanging in my own personal gallery.
I’m looking at her now as she stands before me. She’s messy with the juices of my canvases but she appreciates the art. Her hands clutch a plastic swastika and on her feet are red shoes.
She clicks them twice and is sucked into a black tornado.
And all at once I melt completely into a puddle on the floor that is my Dali weird world. They’re going to have to scoop me up for the trial and drape me over a deep perspective Christ.
“David, why hast thou forsaken me?” I ask before the night meds wipe the slate clean.

FIN

Alfred_Hitchcock_Psycho

**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

 

Night Hags by Richard Bell

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“She is…she really is…”
“What the…she’s not…”
“She is! She is definitely a CILF.”
“CILF?”
“Yes…Crone I’d like to…”
“Ok, dirtbag, you need to douse the fire down there and focus on the party.”
“The Golden Girls always did it for me.”
“You should call your cock Dracula.”
“Dracula?”
“Yes. Every time it rises there’s a coffin involved!”
“That’s dead funny. Let’s get the snacks in bowls and the kegs out of the van and set this place up with a Heff vibe!”
“Hey! Did you invite the goth girls from apartment five?”
“You mean the Fridges of Eastwick? No one’s ever got anywhere with them and the rumours are that they hunt after sundown and drink blood for real. Haven’t you noticed the town has no vagrants? I mean none…why?”
“Probably because of the Mayor’s ‘here’s fifty and a train ticket now move it’ policy. Have to say that they look like they should be in a Rob Zombie movie. Hot and creepy is not just the jungle at night!”
“Well I posted an invite through their door and I didn’t get it shoved in my face so I’m hopeful. I bought some vodka and tomato juice and they can have Bloody Mary drinks in the moonlight. Look, this building needs to rock and tonight it will do just that.”
“Right! Let’s get the playlist sorted and the bar set up and we can get the party started. What the…”
“It’s a bloody power cut! Can you believe it? Ok…we’ve got the candles in that box. Let’s get them lit and text everyone to bring torches.”
“Erm…you’re not going to believe it but my phone is dead and…yes…the home phone is too. The blackout must be an electro magnetic pulse or something? Everything is dead. Well,we’ve got candles, booze and…a knock at the door.”
“Hey, it’s the goth girls and everything behind them appears to be on fire. That’s normal…we might need the extinguisher from the kitchen. Can you whip up two Bloody Marys, please?”
“Do they want ice?”
“I’m thinking not as they appear to be on fire themselves but it seems to be a black flame and cold so…”
“Two Bloody Mary drinks and…”
“Where are we?”
“We’re in the bathroom. What happened?”
“I brought the drinks in and then…nothing. I blacked out.”
“I blacked out when they walked in. Where are they?”
“I can hear voices coming from the kitchen. Let’s go and see.”
“What are you doing, girls and what’s with the knives?”
“I think they want to kill us. Like I said, no vagrants in this town and now we know why.”
“Wait, if this is witchcraft then I can use my holy water from the vampire kit from Comicon, right?”
“It’s here in my pocket. I was going to impress them if they showed. Alright, girls, let’s see you melt like in the movies.”
“It’s working! They’re crawling behind the breakfast bar. What the…but how…they’re old hags?”
“I’m getting wood. Think I’ll have a wild night with a couple of CILF’s. Come and meet Dracula, girls!”
“More like WILF’s – witches I’d like to…we have to do somethi…”
“I’m feeling drowsy. I think they hexed us. We have to get out of…”
“Where are we?”
“Back in the bathroom.”
“Did I get some witch action?”
“Yes, I think we both did.”
“Are your pants gone?”
“Yes. Yours?”
“Yup!”
“What did they want from us?”
“I think they’re like the Praying Mantis. They screw then kill their mates.”
“But we’re still alive…so…we’re ok, right? Right? Right?”
“It’s too dark to tell…ha ha ha hu…”
“You still there? You still there…you sti…”

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Original written work by Richard Bell

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

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Possession (challenge) by Christy Evans

image  When you’ve released yourself from a person that would destroy your whole being, the sum of the weight of toxic poison being lifted from your soul feels like a pressure valve finally loosening. That person is like an unwanted attachment, a possession of sorts. They want to feed off of your energy by bringing negativity to every aspect of your being. They would suck you dry down to the core of your bones, licking each finger of your marrow with a slight smirk on their face ever so disturbing. They have a multitude of faces, a sort of changing of personalities. But still their goal remains the same. The goal is to drain the purest soul. It finds its weakness and uses it to bring them to the lowest point. This is where it starts its work. Finally when you make the choice to cleanse yourself of this emotional vampire the feeling of enlightenment occurs. Realizing you are done being the feast of such an evil presence; You take whatever’s left of your plate of bones and let this three-headed dog realize there is no meal left for them to pick through. As you watch this entity angrily move on to the others around you, you wonder when these people will finally stop letting this evil posses them. They laugh at you like they’ve found something great. But you know the routine the manipulation, the moment of attachment. You know what is coming to them.

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Heck you’ve even tried to warn them but they do not see it yet. You feel like you’re the good guy in a horror movie that tries to tell everyone in town the truth of this evil and you’re the one who ends up in the straight jacket in a padded room waiting for them to realize you were right this whole time. You sit back and all you can do is hope for these people who would laugh at your new-found freedom to finally find theirs and release the demon who will suck their soul down to their very bones licking each finger of their marrow with that disturbing smirk. Until then you just sit back and wait. You know that moment, the I tried to warn you moment you know will come. But by then it will be too late for those souls. They can laugh at you now but there will be a moment of clarity for them and they will be the ones crying the once river of tears you’ve left behind. All you can do is try not to say I told you so, but that satisfaction is one to hard to resist.

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Original written work by Christy Evans

 

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**