The alley echoed hollow on the empty street
Silence is a virtue by ghostly creed
Old houses and graveyards, is where they’d like to be
Hollow beings which the living cannot see
They are bound by the earth as long as they are remembered
Cast to the unknown, they prefer to stay unattended
For nobody knows what lay beyond
Are you going to heaven
Or hell as a thrall?
© Christopher Stamfors
Drew the cover image by myself this time around, although very hastily…
Had a short poetry session with the artist behind most of my cover art, thought it was pretty fun…
Me: Cresent light shine upon me
Your way-ford light a reminder,
of times ahead
Your command the essence of my being
Tell me what needs to be done and I shall perform
Oh, crescent light,
Of darkness
And mischief
Him: Go where you see fit
Until you can’t see no more.
At the edge of the abyss
Where you’ll await my guide.
There we shall converse again and move forward
until that time the journey is sole yours.
Me: You speak of grander things
Chris the Cold
Of a time when the Dark Lord’s madness,
Were planned to unfold
But I have wandered between madness and the abyss
And I see no light and the end of the tunnel
Of guidance through the apocalypse
Don’t fool yourself with glory of a bygone past
We will never talk again
Unless you give up your soul,
As the master planned.
I’ve been considering doing voice over for my stories to broaden my audience. I’m an amature with anything conserning audio and video, so keep that in mind if you choose to listen to it on Soundcloud
Cold and deep
The skeleton lay
Wood enclosed it
Keeping treasure hunters at bay
Life was never the same
When old red found his grave
The seas went quite
Trade resumed
Wares from all over the world
Reached the shores without fume
But people never forgot
The horrors the old sea dog brought
His sabre high
And his spirits higher
For centuries seafarers would turn around
Whenever the mist went thick
A sea chanty they heard in the dimly night
The old sea dog’s voice echoed hoarsely
Chanting merry rhymes
of plunder and of booty
of life on the high seas
But also of his eternal soul
Who limboed at the breeze
But centuries went
And people they forgotten
Taking routes nobody dared
In the age of their grandparents
But when people learned of great treasure
Hidden in the sea
They dared old superstition
Nothing would satisfy their greed.
Greed brought them there
And greed made them stay
In the depths of forever
The captain sang, with new crew-members
in the cold and deep
© Christopher Stamfors
A glint was found
In the darkness and the damp
Cities have their underbelly
Fear is what makes you stand
Standing before evil, it will face you too
What comes out of the darkness
Only you can have a clue
A face can turn evil at the sight of the unknown
Everything is a reflection
Of the past not shown
But though the unknown is a reflection
It will turn people away
For nothing stays the same
Except the knowledge that fear will never go away
© Christopher Stamfors
Gusts of wind sprayed water upon the wall, the wind howled between the narrow windows that looked down at the shore.
The walls had protected the city for many years, but this night no invaders would dare to show, for walkers roamed in the darkness and everyone stayed indoors.
The streets were empty, there was silence, only the wind grew louder with compliance. Yet a lone woman scurried down the hall, her steps echoed hollow on the marble floor.
And out she went this restless night, her feet caked the mud, yet she did not slow, for what hunted her would not let her go.
With fear she ran without looking back, the darkness was thick and she did not see where she sprang. The void tipped her over, an invisible touch, the walker had decided this hunt was ending, her cries unamending.
For she was marked, her life was not her own, it would never let her go, with glee it watched her sob.
The creature was invisible, in the darkness of the night, though there were texts that made guesses, for the mere sight would end their lives.
The rain drummed on her body, her gown was thoroughly soaked, the cold made her shiver and fear made her lips they quivered.
But she did not sit for long, this restless night, her skin turned pale and cold, until the walker was satisfied.
Her eyes were empty and her body was the same, not a single drop had spilled, no markers upon her skin.
But the creature did not grin for this was not a joyous night, they once ruled the world, but now, they make due with one restless night.
© Christopher Stamfors
Featured image by ChrisCold
In the time of ancients
The trolls strolled around
Walking distant miles
Trampling life abound
But one day,
beneath the trees,
animals began to grow
Inhabits of the forest
Affected by the trolls stroll
Kind were the minds of the giants
Not wanting to hurt the critters under their feet
Deciding to go back the lands of old
One troll stayed his feet
Unsure what to do
The troll had an idea
On the ground he would never be a bother
So he lay on his stomach
And he watched the critters play
On his back and on his nose
Nature grew around his frame
And after many years
His body disappeared
Nature was a part of him
And the creatures they cheered
Happy was the troll to see his friends play
Movement was secondary
In the critters bay
For eons the troll still stayed
His limbs grown to the ground
A mountain he became
This was a shortened version of a rhyme picture book I’m working on. I plan to publish it, or at least try to find a publisher, so you’ll gonna have to make due with the short version!
Fingers crossed against his face.
Worlds colliding, in a dimly grace.
Here lie the things that was never seen.
A world without magic, that had never been.
Fearful of those graces which doesn’t make sense.
We search in vain for those moments
where the world become sane.
We hoped and hoped we would never fail.
Arts are never wrong for they are simply minds led astray.
© Christopher Stamfors
In the last story I made a lot of changes from the original to make sure it made sense, but now I’m curious, which one do you prefer? The last one, or, this one:
Look through the midnight winter
and the frost beyond your view.
Raise your hand in enjoyment,
we’ll have another victim soon.
Light the candle on the windshield,
show them we are home.
The gates are open
and we’ll greet them with warmth.
Their steps echo hollow in this empty house.
Nowhere to go, might as well stay the night.
They search the house, to find it abandoned.
Nothing have lived here, for centuries untold.
They don’t believe in ghost and creatures of the night.
Find the place comfortable enough,
it beats the air this chilly night.
We watch them sleep sweetly together on a makeshift bed.
The masters bedroom is upstairs,
even mortals have a sense to leave it alone,
even under threat.
They sleep through the night, everything was fine.
But as the hands of wakening,
they found something not right.
The healthy colour which normal humans shine,
was absent on her mate, his eyes cold as night.
Her scream echoed in the dusty halls.
She awoke the master.
Now she could never leave,
her mate her soul had been.
This version doesn’t rhyme as well and is written in the perspective of someone/something observing the couple. I’m asking because I kinda like both.
Through the darkness and the cold,
the house creaked through the winter storm
And on the driveway, in this winter’s night, a couple emerged
Banging on the door, trying to get inside
The door opened, without a sound
Only their footsteps echoed through an empty house
They search the home, to find it abandoned
Nothing else was living, for centuries uncaring.
Dust caked on the floor and the wind howled through the ceiling
A perfect place for ghosts and other unsavoury beings
But the couple didn’t believe in ghost and creatures of the night
So they find the place comfortable enough,
it beats the air this chilly night.
They slept sweetly on a makeshift bed.
Thank god they left the master’s room untread
They sleep through the night, everything was fine.
But as they awoken, the woman found something’s not right.
Cold and blue was the eyes of her mate
Frozen to the bone, there was nothing to reanimate
Her scream echoed in the dusty hall
The Master would have his call
Where nothing remained
Even in thaw
© Christopher Stamfors
Featured image by ChrisCold
Fear touch those who fear fester
Leave them be
And they will someone else pester
© Christopher Stamfors
The Horrors of Writing 