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My first poem in a while.

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The office decided to celebrate Friday Funday by drawing names out of a hat for a surprise dare. Olivia pulled out “Basement.” Everyone laughed. Then they remembered the building did not have a basement. Still, she went looking. Olivia found a door she had never seen before. The handle was cold and wet, and felt ever so slightly sticky. Inside, everyone’s names were written on the walls. Each one had been crossed out except for hers. She never came back up, but something did,

When the devil comes a knocking, Knocking on your door, Hide away like you’ve done, So many times before. Bolt the latch and shut the windows, Snuff the candle glow, Hold your breath and pray he leaves, Before he comes to know. He has walked the road of sinners, With their ashes on his tongue, Whispering every heinous sin, Since time itself was young. You think he comes for others, Like the faithless or the wild, But the devil keeps a ledger, love, And your name is neatly fil

So, I thought I would do an "About Me" post so you can get to know me a little better. Feel free to comment and share some of your answers with me. Today is a list of favourites: Horror movie: This is a hard one so I will list a couple. 30 Days of Night, Rose Red, Dawn of the Dead (2004), Silence of the Lambs, Trick 'r Treat (2007). I also love Tim Burton, Guillermo del Torro, and anything by the Raimi brothers. Non-horror movie: Any of the Harry Potter movies Horror TV serie

The village of Lavenham lay under a perpetual veil of smoke and ash. The plague carts had stopped coming weeks ago because there were simply too many bodies to collect. Every night the church bell tolled to mark the hour another soul slipped away. Mary, the apothecary’s widow, had grown used to the sound of the bell. She kept a candle burning in the window for her husband. The rats would have picked his bones clean in the burial pit by now. Her fingers were stained with herbs

I am in the mirror, and the mirror is me. The longer I stare, the more I see her eyes, not mine. They shimmer a little too bright, like candlelight trapped under water. She tilts her head when I do, but there’s a pause: a heartbeat too long, too knowing. At night, when the house goes quiet, I hear her moving. Not from the hall. Not from my room. From inside the glass. Soft scraping, like nails, against the silvered surface. She whispers my name, slow and drawn out, as if tast

A Horror Poem Beneath the willow tree’s mourning veil, A child whispered, small and pale. “Grant me peace,” her soft voice pled, The branches sighed, the sky turned red. Leaves like tears began to fall, As roots crept close to heed her call. The ground hummed low, the air grew tight, Her shadow swayed in ghostly light. Now every dusk, the willow weeps, For what it keeps, and what it eats. By E. M. Page

A Childhood memory I was scared to death of zombies when I was a young child. You see, I had brothers who were several years older than me who would sit in the family room to watch scary movies together. I was always expressly forbidden to watch them because my parents worried I would be too scared. They were right. I used to hide behind a chair, sneak under the coffee table, or even peak through the door crack just to get a look at what was on the screen. Seeing those undead

A 10 Sentence Horror Short The baby monitor clicked on at midnight, carrying not a cry but a deep, raspy lullaby. She hurried upstairs, her skin crawling with worry as the voice grew louder. The nursery door stood open, swinging just slightly, yet she clearly remembered closing it earlier. Inside, the baby slept soundly in its cot, chest rising and falling in perfect calm. A tall, black, eyeless figure towered over the cot. The figure turned slowly, revealing a cavernous holl

You jolt awake in the dead of night, breath shallow, heart hammering. Something is there, lurking in the dark. You don’t need to see it to know it's there. The weight of its gaze presses against you; prickling every nerve and freezing you in place. Don’t move! Don’t breathe! If you stay still, maybe it won’t find you. But stillness is easy when terror has locked your body in chains. Paralyzed. Then comes the scrape. It is long and deliberate: The sound of claws dragging acros

I have loved the horror genre for many years: movies and novels. I have a double degree in Arts and Education, with majors in English and History. I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis and arthritis several years ago and that brought an end to my career as a teacher. Writing has always been a passion but I had never shared my writing with anyone before. Being disabled has given me more time to write, and I finally decided to share my stories with the world, thanks to some e