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Abnormally Normal

Abnormally Normal

O pray the earth enfold Our life-sick hearts and turn them into dust. This poem imagines a modern-day "Goth girl" as a vampire ... Dark Gothic by Michael R. Burch Her fingers are filed into talons; she smiles with carnivorous teeth ... You ask, “Are there vampires?” Get real! (Yet she has my belief.)  Sleep and Liberation―the Opiate World of Elizabeth Siddal Ulalume: A Ballad [excerpt] by Edgar Allan Poe The skies they were ashen and sober; The leaves they were crisped and sere—
9.87.4K viewsCompletedAdded to Library 259 Times as gothic poem
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Tae'swife
this is really great, I love the new guy, but now am getting so confused cause I really don't know who to ship her with, and Luther seems so hot, lol how I imagined him that is and I really wanted Johnny and Rose together but...... well I don't want to give out spoilers also you need to edit!!
cakeilove
Just need to be edited, overall I love it, it has it's originality, it's start like some crazy sitcom and ends up having this climax, my favourite character has to be Goblin, I like how you portrayed his character, he's someone who was hurt because of the werewolves and vampires issues, overall nice
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The Tycoon’s Temptress - Red Flower’s Chase

The Tycoon’s Temptress - Red Flower’s Chase

Just silence thick and shadows high. Then fingers cold as death’s caress Drag me down the hall—no less. My echo fades behind each scream, Where nightmare slips into twisted dreams. Damnation clings to every stone, And fear leaks out of every bone. Through seven gates I must descend, Where light and memory meet their end. Each time, a layer falls from grace— No praise remains, no soft embrace. My skin grows bare, my steps grow slow, Yet still I walk. I choose to go. Through shadow’s mouth, I drop like flame,
1.9K viewsCompletedAdded to Library 55 Times as gothic poem
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Lullaby (Fable Saga Book 2)

Lullaby (Fable Saga Book 2)

I must have dozed off while I was reading earlier. The Poems of Francis Ledwidge – the moth-eaten emerald green book I found in the study – is lying next to my pillow, the gold-embossed oak leaves on the cover glinting in the lamplight. The last thing I remember reading before nodding off was a poem gran had often sung to me as a bedtime lullaby. That book of the page is creased, dog-eared. The poem is about a water spirit who died after falling in love, which seemed to be one of Francis Ledwidge’s favorite themes – doomed love, tragic, beautiful maidens and lots and lots of flowers.
106.1K viewsOngoingAdded to Library 200 Times as gothic poem
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Though a Mirror Darkly

Though a Mirror Darkly

He stopped scrolling and read the full poem, his skin growing cold with gooseflesh as he did so. Along the shore the cloud waves break, The twin suns sink behind the lake, The shadows lengthen In Carcosa. Strange is the night where black stars rise, And strange moons circle through the skies, But stranger still is Lost Carcosa. Songs that the Hyades shall sing, Where flap the tatters of the King, Must die unheard in Dim Carcosa. Song of my soul, my voice is dead, Die thou, unsung, as tears unshed Shall dry and die in
3.5K viewsCompletedAdded to Library 87 Times as gothic poem
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Alpha Ozymandius

Alpha Ozymandius

I met a traveller from an antique land, Who said-"Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand, Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed; And on the pedestal, these words appear: My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings; Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away." P.B Shelley
104.6K viewsOngoingAdded to Library 119 Times as gothic poem
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Going, Going, Gone

Going, Going, Gone

"Mommy, I'm setting up Zoe's room! Go get the rabbit-fur rug and the moonstone lampstand from the collection room. I want to put them in her room!" So Zoe was moving in. But it didn't matter. I'd already decided to leave, so it'd just be easier for her to take my place. Seeing me stand there unmoving, Katrina pouted and darted off to the basement on her own. Before long, she returned, wobbling under the weight of the rug. Behind her, the housekeepers carefully carried a large lampstand. The lampstand was made entirely of moonstone, and together with the rug, they were Katrina's favorite treasure. She'd always cherished and guarded them carefully.
8.6K viewsCompletedAdded to Library 181 Times as gothic poem
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Mated to Rival Kings

Mated to Rival Kings

"Would you like to take a walk in the garden? The greenhouse is nice, but the outdoor paths are open to us today." "I’d love to," I said, closing my book. We walked out into the sun-drenched gardens. The air was crisp, but the sun was warm on my shoulders. As we walked, Darian began to talk about Southern poetry. "In the South, we believe that words have their own scent," he explained as we passed a row of blooming lilies. "We have poets who spend their entire lives trying to capture the feeling of the first rain after a drought. They use a structure called 'The Golden Verse'. It’s patterned, like a heartbeat."
1010.8K viewsOngoingAdded to Library 346 Times as gothic poem
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Bloodscript: Survival Game of the Reborn

Bloodscript: Survival Game of the Reborn

Not the clean, modern kind. A gothic monstrosity arcing out from a craggy cliff—stone slick with perpetual damp, gargoyles hunched along the rails, mouths open in silent howls. Far below, instead of a river, a neon‑flooded city sprawled, skyscrapers clawing at a sky that wasn’t sky at all. Mirrors.
1.1K viewsCompletedAdded to Library 25 Times as gothic poem
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Faith and the three fates.

Faith and the three fates.

Deep into that darkness peering, Long I stood there, wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals Ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, And the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken Was the whispered word, "Lenore!" This I whispered, and an echo Murmured back the word, "Lenore!" Merely this, and nothing more.
104.4K viewsOngoingAdded to Library 96 Times as gothic poem
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Frequently Asked Questions

Gothic stories are my absolute jam—there’s something so deliciously eerie about crumbling castles, dark secrets, and that lingering sense of dread. If you’re looking to craft your own gothic tale, start with the atmosphere. It’s all about mood! Picture fog-drenched moors, candlelit corridors, or a decaying mansion with whispers in the walls. Settings like these aren’t just backdrops; they’re almost characters themselves. I always think of 'The Fall of the House of Usher' or 'Rebecca'—those places *breathe* with menace. Don’t shy away from over-the-top descriptions, either. Gothic thrives on grandeur and decay, so go wild with stained glass, cobwebs, and portraits that seem to watch your protagonist.

Next, nail the themes. Isolation, madness, forbidden love, and the supernatural are classic staples. Your protagonist might be a tormented soul trapped in a cursed lineage, or an outsider uncovering horrors in a seemingly peaceful village. Moral ambiguity works wonders here—think 'Dracula' or 'Frankenstein,' where the lines between villain and victim blur. And oh, the pacing! Gothic stories often simmer slowly, teasing out dread before the big reveal. Flashbacks, letters, or diaries can layer in mystery, like in 'Wuthering Heights' or 'The Turn of the Screw.' Personally, I love when a story lets the horror creep in subtly, leaving readers questioning what’s real.

Lastly, don’t forget the emotional core. Gothic isn’t just about scares; it’s about *yearning.* Maybe it’s a love that defies death, or a character haunted by guilt. Melodrama is your friend—embrace the swooning, the gasps, the tragic backstories. And if you’re stuck, revisit classics like 'Carmilla' or modern twists like 'Mexican Gothic' for inspiration. My own attempts always end up with too many secret passages and tragic aristocrats, but hey, that’s half the fun. Just lean into the shadows and let your imagination run wild—preferably by candlelight, during a thunderstorm.

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