Creepy Poetry Novels & Stories

Glowing their crimson, gloomy glimmer in the dark Red flowers, red flowers… The new end, the new beginning, they mark I saw a creature in the dark. It looked like a live skeleton. There, in the corner of the dungeon, sat a young boy, I would say that he is no older than six. His clothes was in tatters, and he was swaying back and forth, reciting the poem as a mantra. His bony hands clamped on his ears. His eyes were milky white, his alabaster hair long and matted to his waist. The boy is blind, malnourished, to say at least and with layers of stark dirt on his face. The sight hit me like a ton of bricks, tears which got out of nowhere, welling up in my eyes. No child should be here. No child

A being that seems to embody the very essence of divinity, making it seem as if everyone is in the presence of a god. Creed's mind felt like he had been hit by a wave of confusion. However, while he was basking in the beauty of this seemingly unfamiliar creature, she opened her mouth and screamed at the top of her lungs. ~SCREEECCCHHHHHH Her screeching howl tore apart the tranquility of the forest. An unearthly wail that seemed to reach into the very depths of Creed's core. The mournful sound echoed through the trees, setting every nerve on edge, and causing his heart to race with archaic fear.

I took a breather, took the hair rope off my head and tied it to my leg, thinking of getting up and climbing out, but the touch under my hand was strange, like something like clothes, and a sticky feeling, and I just didn't notice the smell around me, and now there's a smell in the air - a disgusting stench. A weak moonlight shone down, and I finally saw the "thing" underneath me, it was a corpse! No! It was a few people stacked together, and the hole was not a wooden spike, it was some animal or human bones! the white bones in the moonlight shine looks incomparably weird and creepy. "ah!!!!!!!!!!"

The words flowed from her lips, a lyrical tapestry of arcane language: "Abraxus, veiled keeper of secrets, Unveil the path that now eludes our sight. By the flickering flame, I beseech thee, Guide us through shadows, bring forth the light." Her voice rose and fell in a mesmerizing rhythm, each syllable resonating with ancient resonance and mystical energy. The room seemed to vibrate with an ethereal aura as she continued: "Through realms obscured, we seek the lost, Across the veils of time, our plea is cast.

Sky says as she jesters with her hands to me. I took a couple of deep breaths before I began to read my poem out loud. Gathering my nerves before I speak. Lifeless Lost and alone left empty without a home. Watching as the wind blows, chattering through hollow bones. Words are nothing but a sound cracking and breaking with each bound. A girl once set to sore left with oozing pores, born in a world torn in two. Amber eyes stare into the starry skies, locks of blonde hair ripped from a head now bare. A face that once held so much grace, revealing split flesh tattered like mesh. Words are nothing but a sound cracking and breaking with each bound. Tears shed out of so many fears, crying in the da

It looked like a werewolf, but its proportions were all wrong—too long, too lean, its claws like obsidian daggers. It was a Creeper—a rogue wolf that had spent so long away from human form that it had devolved into something monstrous. They were the boogeymen of the pack, the things mothers warned their pups about. The creature prowled toward her, its breath a foul-smelling mist in the cold air. It stood over her, its shadow swallowing her whole. "You smell of the Silver Poison," the creature rumbled, leaning down until its wet snout was inches from her face. "And the stench of a Broken Bond. You are a carcass already, little bird. Why do you still breathe?"

She dances gracefully at the ominous and dark room as she wonders and hum the eerie tone with her mind that pin and sinks to the poem she made and curse to the very core. “Well, well, well, who among you readers wanted to read my hell of a curse poem?” Teasing a daring, she continues to hum the devil’s lullaby as she whispers the words of the poem. TOMIKO’S HELL Round and round our life spins and about Twist and turn you can hear a silent scream Up and down what a lovely dream Until you find yourself eating a flesh cream Oh, how ironic living and dying In the world where everything is pretty much boring

In dedication to Born By Power is a series of poem fixed within chapters of the book. The first was relating to Chaos And Apocalypse, which pretty much revealed a lot about the uprise of hell. This is the second and is themed on the horrific nature of Halloween and written with relativeness to hell. What does this hold to unviel? Who knows. Screams of Halloween Halloween, Halloween, Soft screams of blood chime, The period of dark, The day of ghouls, demons and imps,

I'd be labeled a freak by association. Goth kids were feared.They always had an air of spookiness and macabre surrounding their auras , they were obsessed with death , dark humor and dark poetry and they always looked as though they stepped right out of a funeral catalogue. Standing next to this five foot tar colored freak, I couldn't stop my rampant thoughts from imagining her working in a cemetery some day.I have a feeling she'd qualify to work in one seeing how obsessed she was with death and everything it came with. "What did you do to my poetry journal?'She barked, holding the aforementioned journal in her pale hands.

His body pressed against mine, hot and unwanted. As we rode out, the brothel fading behind us, smoke started to rise from the windows. Flames licked the roof. Vesper’s screams echoed in my ears. And in my chest, that strange pull tugged harder—like a warning I couldn’t understand. But there was no time to wonder. The pack lands loomed ahead, dark and waiting.