Visitors

Divination, Candles, Tarot, Psychic

“What?  Visitors at this hour?  This will never do?” Henrietta said looking through the lace curtains at the car in her drive.

A couple of young men wearing dark suits with nametags stepped from the vehicle.  The passenger reached into the car to retrieve a book and some papers.

The pair rang the bell and waited with angelic, smiling faces.

“Maybe, this will be more pleasant than I thought,” she said licking her lips and winking at her familiar.


Padre

Familiar in 79 words

Gothic 25: Presence

Model, Woman, Shadows, Model, Model

He thought he saw her upon the stair

But when he looked back she wasn’t there

“An illusion,” he thought, “A trick of the light”

After all it was at night

But the next day – in the rear view mirror

“Was that her again?” getting nearer

How could it be – that there was this presence?

He had been so careful

To hide the evidence

He headed back to where the body lay

The grave was untouched covered in clay

But the visions continued

She appeared repeatedly

He had to to know – had to go and see

So with shovel in hand

He turned the soil

The smell alone made him recoil

But the evidence was clear,

His guilt to attest

Just as the police arrived

And made the arrest


Padre

Last Interview

Photo by Georgi Kalaydzhiev on Unsplash

I watched helplessly from behind the two-way glass

As the interview room filled with eerie gas

Detective Margaret Smith on her last duty day

Interviewing a suspect from far away

The Perp grew tentacles and at Smith did lunge

Breaking the cuffs – the room into mist did plunge

The last thing I remember was her pleading face

Before being devoured by a creator from outer space


Padre

That Season

Autumn, Decoration, Face, Fall, Scary
Pixabay

It was nearly All Hallows, and Bella knew what that meant. She hated this time of the year; really hated it. It wasn’t that her job wasn’t hard enough the rest of the year, but the autumn always brought in a flood of new cases. Bella was a private investigator specialising in missing persons cases. For most PIs that means finding individuals that had skipped out on their rents, or deadbeat dad’s. Well, Bella tracked dead dads. There was no beat to it. She was usually hired by families or estates where the disappearance was, how shall we say, unusual. Most turned out to be standard foul play – love triangles and the like – but some, her bread and butter cases, involved vampires. She had already discovered three different “families” of the creatures in the three counties area, plus that one werewolf case, but Halloween just ramped things up. People though nothing about zombies, werewolves, and vamps on the streets. It made leads that much harder, plus they (the undead) usually did their “recruiting” among the unsuspecting party-goers of October.

Well, this year was going to be a doozy. She just didn’t know it yet.


Padre

Whistle

Ghost, Girl, Gothic, Dark, Goth
Pixabay

A whistle

A shrill sound upon the breeze

An incessant sound

That makes me ill at ease

Where does it come from?

Whatever might it mean?

Is it all just in my head?

Or is there something untoward

As yet by me unseen?


Padre

Wander Not In The Wood

Brooke Shaden

Do not wander in the wood

For few from there return

The very trees there seem to move

Even when there is no breeze

Let your journey another path take

Let caution your planning seize

Do not wander in the wood

Do not its mysteries learn

And above all – do take care

To avoid the towering trees


Padre

Photo Challenge #359

Gateway Gothic

CCC #112

“That’s so weird,” Amber said as she did a slow spin taking in all of her surroundings.

“What’s weird? Where?” Tracy queried.

“Here – and this puddle’s what’s weird,” Amber replied.

“What are you going on about?”

“Just look at the refection in the puddle. The building in it isn’t anywhere near here.”

Tracy looked into the puddle and then looked around in the same intense manner Amber had.

“No! No way!” Tracy exclaimed.

The pair then knelt next to the puddle and peered in. There before them was a bustling market square with people in Victorian dress carrying out their business.

Tracy hesitantly placed her fingers into the shallow puddle that seemed no more than an inch deep but was able to sink her hand in to her elbow.

Jerking her arm rapidly from the puddle, she shook it and involuntarily shivered.

“No! This isn’t happening,” she said. “I could feel a breeze.”


Padre

CCC #112

Gothic 23: Blood-shot Wandering

Corridor, Tunnel, Light, Architecture, The Gate
Pixabay

With blood-shot green eyes of envy

He down the unlit passage strode

Leaving his wife and her lover

Alone in his wedding bed abode

He had entered but a moment ago

To see the sight – his blood to make cold

And in a fit of jealousy

Bludgeoned away their breath

As his anger and pain did explode


For today’s Poetics, I would like you to write a Gothic poem and explore the question: “Which according to you are the deepest, darkest and most concealed of human emotions?”

Jealousy

The Long Drove

MorgueFilleOctober 2020file000180116622

Sister and brother, Deana and Don continued down the long drove. They had been told there was a rave at an abandoned house at the end of the tree-lined lane.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Deana challenged.

“It’s right were it is supposed to be,” he replied holding up the hand drawn map his friend Kevin had made for him. “We came off Forest Street, and turned onto the third left.”

“Well it has been going on forever,” she complained. “Look, we have been on this stupid lane for twenty minutes,” she said checking her watch. “Ring Kevin now, and double check.”

“There’s no signal,” Don said.

Deana took out her phone as well. “I don’t have one either,” she said with obvious frustration.

“Uh oh. I don’t like this,” Don said. “Isn’t that the orange peel you dropped ten minutes ago?” he said pointing.

“Can’t be,” Deana replied uncertainly. “We’ve been walking straight ahead and their haven’t any turnings.”

It’s been ten years since they were last seen. They would be 26 and 27 now.


Padre

Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner

Sorry, but I am still in Gothic – Halloween mode.