A Nightmare Dreary

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This October's NIGHTMAREFEST has brought ghosts and ghouls galore to haunt the halls of this supernatural site. To commemorate this feast of frights, we present to you an assemblage of apparitions in image and text, inspired by the chilling works of many authors.


A Nightmare Dreary

By, ImpperatrixImpperatrix

Come one, come all, shouts the dread circus' ringleader
Autumn falls, salute the night, the witch and the demon
The time had come, the veil falls, tear apart the cedar
They celebrate the darkest times, the terror is their reason

Behold the nightmares that arrive quickly galloping
Chosen by them to appease their need for goosebumps
In three they come, as the three wayward sisters in gathering
The trinity come as muses for them that have their minds vacant

The Townhouse, the haunted house, the house for a poltergeist
A closed apartment, an old cottage, the building that was left unfinished
Empty, old, forgotten, forsaken, abandoned to insects and mice
The imagery of bricks and cement, which ghouls are sheltering in it?

The Bureaucrat, the slave of rules, papers, pencil, pen, and administration
Seeking to put in order a world drowning in true and pure entropy
Is it the rightful horror? Is the realm around it the unfeigned aberration?
Or maybe both king and kingdom bring the atrocities in complete syntropy

The Graveyard Shift comes at last, but indeed not at least
The gravedigger roams around the necropolis, lonely at his job
Tombs and sepulchers until the horizon, a scenario without bliss
And from the six feet under they can hear the dead, their cry and their sob

Autumn falls, salute the night, the witch and the demon
Come the monster, feast the reaper, hex the hag, and cry the dead
They celebrate the darkest times, the terror is their reason
A Nightmare Dreary, the three muses for those who love the dread



In a townhouse old and quaking, lantern raised and fingers shaking,
Here I wander, there I tarry; Every door might cause my death.
Shrieking wailing makes me fearful; lamp-cast shadows flicker awful
As I wander and I ponder, I see a room with chairs of flesh.
As I wander and I ponder past that room with chairs of flesh,
Every door might cause my death.

Pushing forth I see a specter of a banquet table's nectar
Tempting plates with steaks and sweetmeats. But drawing closer, putrefaction.
Scratching from the wooden floorboards urges me to keep on forwards.
Termites rising in my footsteps, worries urge a counteraction.
Termites rising, cause for action, worries urge my plan for action,
Close behind me, putrefaction.

Panic strikes; I can't stay resting. Lamplight ebbs; my fear is cresting.
Demons that I've tried to hide from come now to extract their tithe.
Secrets hidden, secrets failed, revealed now by a tattletale.
Needles pin me; I can't hide. Upon those needles now I writhe.
Like a puppet, needles pin me, on those needles now I writhe,
To my demons must I tithe.


The Bureaucrat

By, DrGoodayDrGooday

In this here tower of ivory gray, I hold the pen and yet I have no say.
I sign the form, I sign once more. I hear the footsteps approaching.
I pray to God they pass me by, ignore me for the storm brewing in their sky,
The smell of rot, a dreadful silence filled with fraught. Can they hear the beating of my heart?
That dreaded crowd I hear their laugh I cannot bear that awful baff, the click of their gun.
And now they sit there and laugh, as those they've killed are never sought.

And now I shun the killer, I lock that door; I focus on my work forevermore.
I do my best to that killer's face as I huddle closer to my dark wood desk.
Those greedy salesmen at the top of it all, I pray for the day that they fall.
My prayers cut short as they approach my holy fort. A knocking at my door.
Knocking harder, ever louder, enough to turn the wood into powder, do not let them in.
Quiet now I say, as my body leaves my mind. I know that the beast remains.

My heart beats now, faster yet faster. I can hear them breathing through the plaster.
My sweat is cold now, dripping to the floor, I release a silent cry.
I lean down over my desk, I turn my mind to these awful tests,
The paper slashes through my flesh, the smell of gore now fresh, their interest now renewed.
A silent cry the fear shining through my eyes, I've signed their contract with my blood.
I fall silent as they turn the handle open…


Graveyard Shift


To a grave; plundered and unearthed,
I walk unwilling, through dark.
Yet, pigeon footed, I traverse.
The light behind me, now afar.
The tomb looms, illuminated;
A ghoul, a fiend, I discover.
This way comes, something wicked,
Something else, something other.

I can’t remember her jade eyes,
Cold snaps my feet asunder.
It’s time to go, sweet dreams, goodbye;
Alive, yet buried six feet under.
The horn sounds and the dead pass by,
Time marches on through fog.
Almost midnight now, a cry
Speeds along the track. Tick tock.

But when the mind fails and falters,
The sparrow finds perverse belief:
A forgotten dead beneath the altar,
hidden with avarice and conceit.
The wheel of life halts in the ground
With but dry remains leftover.
Face down in the soil, a muffled sound;
The damp dirt has no flavour.

Something’s out there, held on a string,
Quietly, beyond the trees.
A moonlit brown, never changing,
Where viscous skies seem to breathe.
To avoid the night it hides,
Silent, a taunting monster.
Behold! I screech in fright,
Fading, the frost melts faster.

I walk along endless hallways,
Through a thousand thousand doors.
Forevermore, her eyes ablaze
Yet a meaningless allure.
Above, a buzzing pale white light,
A shift, a crunch, then a shout,
Try to run, with all my might-
It’s too late — the power’s out!


Images assembled by DodoDevilDodoDevil

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