Poetry competition CLOSED 26th July 2015 9:09pm
WINNER
Anonymous
sheild
RUNNERS-UP: LobodeSanPedro and HadesRising

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Got horror?

Krosgood
Violence
Thought Provoker
United States 12awards
Joined 21st Mar 2014
Forum Posts: 163

Poetry Contest

Write me something/anything horror. The winner will be chosen by you.
Objective
-Write me some horror. It could be about anything as long as it's horror based. No guidelines and no word counting or submission limit (just try not to submit a novel, I'll gladly accept them in my inbox to read later though)

The twist
-Voting will not be done by myself. After the competition ends all the participants are to send me a message saying which poem they think deserves the win. The winning poem will be the one with the most votes. All participants are required to pick their favorite two poems, one winner and one runner up.

Rules
-You cannot vote for your own work.
-A trophy will not be awarded to a participant who did not vote.
-Voting is open to all members of DUP. (even if you didn't submit anything I would still gladly accept your vote.)
-Save your votes until the competition ends.

ilovescarystories
Thought Provoker
United States 2awards
Joined 7th Mar 2014
Forum Posts: 159

                                 True darkness
There are 3 stages of pure darkness... Only then true darkness can be made.
First stage is the human mind.
Losing yourself within utter pain bewilderment.
Walking into the woods.
Finding your path turn all bloodly.
Finding all your love burned into ashes.
Finding your dangling corpse from a tree.
Losing all your light until your left with nothing but yourself.
The second stage is when you close your eyes.
When you close your eyes all you will see is memories of your life.
When you close your eyes all you feel is nothing.
When you close your eyes you will forever lose yourself.
The third stage..... Is when your all alone.
When your lights are off in your room.


When you try to scream but can't see anyone.
When you can be a victim to any monster.
When you take up a weapon a blindly attack.
True darkness... Is what you become after all of these stages.
We are true darkness..



                                       Tell me a story
Our mama would always tell us a story right before we fell asleep; the first story she read to us was called “A Fortunate Fate”. It was a distant memory, and I still remember that woeful tale that she told us so long ago.

She would always have that faint glitter in her eyes as she stroked our sweet faces, and in a quiet, almost inaudible, tone she would say, “Running from his bitter destiny. Running from his fate, he ran from his enemies. Their eyes were black, and their teeth were in a point. Their hair was pointed up to the sides and with long finger nails they would snatch your soul right out. As the sun set this fine eve, red light reflected off of them, leaving behind a dark shadow.

"The villagers ran away proclaiming, 'They're demons from hell!' As those demons flew they found a small crippled boy, one of 8. The little one was lifted by these grand demons and they gave him the one thing he always wanted, the gift of flight. He flew from his fortunate future and instead flew towards his fortunate fate." She would then look to the sky as we said a prayer to God. I'm a questioner and I would question all sorts of logic from my mama.

“Why did he just let himself be kidnapped?" I would ask her. "He doesn't seem very smart."

“The boy was never kidnapped, dear; he just took the path everyone was afraid to take because they were judgmental,” my mama responded.

“I knew that,” I said to her.

“Of course you did, dear,” she said in a sweet tone, laughing and giving us a heartfelt kiss on our cheeks. She then got up with a bright smile and whispered goodnight as she left the room, turning off the lights with her…

And I guess you can say that’s where all my fantasies would come to an end. As the darkness flooded the room with a death-like grip, I heard a deep voice in the room. I gripped my pillow and held it front of me, not like how a coward holds a stick, but as a warrior who holds her shield.

“Emily, that was a dumb story, right?” the deep voice asked.

“Shut up, big brother!” I said.

“That was awfully rude of you,” my brother said as he walked over to my bed and sat on my legs.

“Hey… that hurts, get off!” I said, trying to do sorta a backwards push up to get him off.

“Tell me a story and I will get off,” he said as he took out a knife and apple from the table and began cutting pieces of the apple.

“Alright… I see no harm, but if you don’t get off, I will make sure you choke on that apple,” I said.

“Oh very scary,” he said in a mocking tone as he took another piece of apple and chewed it like an animal just to upset me.

“Here I go.. And I’m only saying it once so make sure you’re listening. Its called the Raven and the Spider.” I tried to move him a little off my legs… no luck, he noticed right away and adjusted himself to my movements. Seeing this was a pointless battle I sighed and began my story.  “Thunder strikes my heart on this cold night. It’s the call of the Raven as he calls for my return from this noble crusade. It’s the fire that burns my skin. It will be the cry of a child, or is it my own nightmare? It’s the grins of many faces, which is the screaming of my soul.

"A spider swings down to me as my arms and legs are all tangled in his web. Yes, it’s a spider. It’s a spider that chains me to this bed and hits me with the belt. It’s a raven that walks by my window tonight and pecks at the glass. It’s the lies of unknown justice that is said to come. That little spider of only 8 bares his fangs in me, injecting me with toxins. It’s a wall of brick, that keeps me here in this prison. I will show him the bird of death; I grow legs of 8 as I climb up the wall and bare my fangs in the raven's neck. Seeing him choke and crumble, I mumble my own death,” I said as I looked into my big brothers eyes, since I was adjusted to the dark now.

“Nice story but it wasn’t good enough," he said.

“What?! Why?” I asked him.

He cut a big piece of apple and stuffed it in my mouth, and he looked at the window. “I wonder who the Raven was,” my brother said in a faint voice. He quickly turned his head back to me and smiled at me with a thick row of pointed teeth and long yellow finger nails .With gentle wording he said, “I love you."

I woke up screaming, with my mom running into the room to comfort me.

“Honey, what is wrong?” she asked.

“I saw my brother again,” I said

“Oh… dear, you know your brother is in heaven now.." She said as she gave me a hug.

“I know… I love you” I said as I fell apart and began to sob in her arms. “Mama, please tell me a story,” I said.

As I gazed in the distance, I saw a tall dark shadow... That looked a awful lot like brother...

poet Anonymous

Just a question, how can members vote? I did only one competition and i was supposed to give a reward to the winner, but no winner was voted, can someone make it clear about how these competition work. Thanks.

Krosgood
Violence
Thought Provoker
United States 12awards
Joined 21st Mar 2014
Forum Posts: 163

For this competition the voting is done by leaving me a message in my inbox telling me which two you liked best, then I will tally up the votes and award a winner and runner up. Just thought I would do something a little different this time is all.

HadesRising
Tyrant of Words
United States 34awards
Joined 8th June 2013
Forum Posts: 1613

KNOCK KNOCK PART ONE



NIGHT ONE

After a day filled with drama and stress, all I wanted was to go home and unwind for a little while.  But no, that just wasn't going to happen.

    My car is a piece of shit and decided to overheat all the way to the fucking gas station; so, I spent my first hour off waiting for the temperature to drop on an already sweltering night.  While I waited, I bought a Gatorade with the last two bucks in my pocket, but it was long gone before the car was ready to go. I finally made it home and sat down for a turkey sandwich and some chips.

    I know, the life of a rockstar.

    I had finally drifted off to sleep later in the night and dreams twisted through my head like they always do. I dreamed of being late to work and of course woke up two hours early. After thirty minutes of staring at the ceiling, sleep returned and then, of course, I woke up late after dreaming of places I've never been, but one thing stuck in my head-

    The sound of Knock Knock Knock.

NIGHT TWO

They say the strangers in dreams are not really strangers at all.  The human brain remembers faces of people just passing by, and if that's the case, then where did I meet all these fucked up people?  It's true I work with some assholes and bitches but they've never really struck me as devils before.
 
    Those fuckers, they love to torment me.  I dreamed of doing various stupid things like walking down hallways or driving the car, but as always with dreams, something goes wrong like getting lost or the dream melds into something else and those fuckers, those strangers who are faceless in life, are always there at the end.  They laugh at my failures and taunt me until the dream shifts to something else.
   
    Needless to say, sleep was fitful.  Then, out of the murk and laughter, came a pounding in my head and I awoke just as the sun was rising, still tired and ornery.

NIGHT THREE

The beer was a welcome relief.  Cool and smooth and it seemed to calm my nerves.  The day just seemed to go on and on and everything everyone said to me just grated on my nerves.  I snapped at the only person I consider a friend, oh well, fuck 'em.  Grow up and get a pair. Maybe I'll go see Dad tomorrow and unwind.
   
    The dreams, man, God I wish you'd give me a break for once.  Those faces were back but this time they didn't laugh or even smile.  This time they bickered and whispered behind my back, not talking to me but maybe talking about me.   Who knows and who gives a shit?  Let them talk because obviously they have nothing better to talk about.  All of a sudden it seems like my life is on display and the crowds are gathering for a grand show-

    KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

    I sit up in the bed, covered in sweat.  It's only 5:30 in the fucking morning, and I'm wide awake.

NIGHT FOUR

Well, my visit was a bust.  Dad's an E.R. doctor, and he was on his break.  We shot the shit for a few minutes.  Hey, how are you?  How's life?  Are you still writing in that diary?  Yes, I am and I feel like an idiot every time.  I brought up the trouble with my sleep, or lack thereof, but as soon as I did, he got a call.  Multiple car crash victims just rolled in, and he had to go back.  Love you, see you later, be good.  Etcetera...

    I've got the day off tomorrow, so, fuck it.  I'm sick of those dream people and that knocking.  I've got a couple of Monsters in the fridge and the Xbox is calling my name.  Time to kick some ass.

    KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

    KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

    I jerk awake, slumped over on the couch.   A bag of chips and a game controller in my lap and two empty energy drink cans on the coffee table. Must've dozed off.  The microwave clock glared at me:  3:00 AM.

NIGHT FIVE

I'm so fucking tired.  I think I'll pop a couple of sleep aids and just sleep through all the voices and knocking.  But nope.  I remember sitting on a stool in the middle of a circle of people, in a sea of darkness, with a single ray of light shining down on me.  Some of laughing, some were whispering, and somewhere there was a baby crying.  I tried to block them out but, they just kept on.

    "Hey, guys, knock it off. Will you?" I said to them

    But they stepped it up a notch.  I tried to get up to walk away but couldn't, it was like I was chained down.  "Come on! Enough already!"

    That just seemed to entice them.  I was getting pissed and started rocking back and forth to free myself from this stool but to no avail.  I lashed out at them with obscenities but they just got louder and louder until they were screaming, and the baby's wails turned into an utmost shriek of terror.  Until suddenly-

    KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

    All went silent, even me, and a single voice, deep with malevolence, uttered, "Let me out."

(c) 2015 Frank Green

HadesRising
Tyrant of Words
United States 34awards
Joined 8th June 2013
Forum Posts: 1613

KNOCK KNOCK PART TWO


NIGHT SIX

Apparently, I passed out at work today and they called an ambulance for me.  First nice thing they ever did for me.  I'm honestly surprised they didn't push me under the counter and kick me a couple good times for good measure.  I woke up in a hospital bed with my Dad standing over me.

    "Rise and shine," he said.

    "That's the best sleep I've had in weeks."

    "That's good to know. How's your head? You hit it at work."

    Now that he mentioned it, my head was a little sore.  I relayed the message and asked, "Do I have a concussion?"

    He shook his head and scribbled something down.  "No, just a little banged up.  You are exhausted, though.  What's wrong?  You haven't been sleeping?"

    "No. Not very well.  I tried to tell you about it the other day but you were busy."

    "Sorry."  He pulled up one of those little stools, sat down and rubbed his eyes.  "Tell you the truth, I haven't been sleeping well since your mother died but I just got used to it.  Sometimes it seems like this place runs on caffeine."  He slapped his knee and relaxed a bit.  "So, what's keeping you up?  What can your doctor give you?"

    I chuckled with him a moment because that's what manly men do: We chuckle.  "I don't know.  Stress?  All I know is that I keep have these dreams of people laughing and talking."

    He frowned a little.  "Something on TV, perhaps.  Anything else?"

    Not sure, but he seemed off somewhat.  "Yeah, there's always this knocking.  Always three knocks.  Knock knock knock.  That's what wakes me up."

    He looked at me and chuckled again like I told him a joke.  "Well, I'm going to give you something to knock you out.  Give you a good night's sleep.  And don't worry, nobody will disturb you."

    He got up to leave.  "Dad, wait.  These dreams are really freaking me out.  I don't really want to sleep."

    "It's for your own good."

    My mother had died when I was ten while they were away on a trip.  I was spending a few weeks with my grandparents when Dad called and said something had happened to Mom.  He was cleared of all  charges, and the official story was that she had died in her sleep.  So, you can see where this whole thing was freaking me the fuck out.  I don't want to sleep but I'm here in a county hospital in the care of my father.  

    Everything should be fine.

    A nurse came in awhile later and shot me up with some night-night juice, and then I drifted off into bliss.

    They were there, all of them, standing around me in the dark room with the one blinding light shining down me.  I lay in a bed, a hospital bed, strapped down and unable to move.  Those people were laughing and whispering again, along with the wailing baby in the shadows.

    Instead of arguing with them, I listened, trying to understand.  "Don't try..."

    "Hush, little one..."

    "He's here."

    I looked around, frantically, but saw no one other than the familiar faces.  "Who?  Who's here?"

    And they moaned, "Him..."

    "The one..."

    "The sleeping one..."

    KNOCK

    "The one who waits..."

    KNOCK

    "Beneath the flesh."

    KNOCK

    I strained against my restraints but it was no good.  Then all went silent and the same deep voice, full of hatred and malice, spoke once again,

    "Let me out."

THE PRIVATE JOURNAL OF DR. ELLIS WILLIAMS

Pharmaceuticals are the most wonderful things.  My son, Michael, had collapsed at work and since his employer knew I was a doctor they called me instead of 911.  So, I did what any good father would do, I picked him up.  I remember him telling me about his dream ordeal but I brushed it off and let it play its course.

    All part of the plan.

    To unlock great mysteries one must make great sacrifices.  And, oh, I have sacrificed over the years.  As a teen I came across a grimoire that taught me about old gods who could awaken through human flesh.  I was fascinated, enthralled, hungry for the knowledge of beings so ancient.  One, though, stood out:

    The One Who Waits Beneath The Flesh.

    I spent years offering sacrifices in his name.  Homeless people, men, women and children.  The kind of people no one would miss.  I eventually married and sired a child, all the while offering them to my dark savior.  The One Who Waits finally took my wife on our vacation but he never manifested himself.  So, I offered more souls, of people with mortal injuries seeking medical care.  But to no avail.

   Instead of the hospital, I took Michael to my home and strapped him down in my own little treatment room. It's not much, I know, I'm modest.  I pumped him full of hallucinogens and watched him live out his little fantasy from behind a wall of glass.

    You have to enjoy the little things, after all.

    I pumped him full of sedatives and waited for my dark messiah to appear.  First it was the ripples under the skin, like something was there.  Then Michael started thrashing under his bonds.  But, no sir, I do my work well.

    This is it!  This is really it!

    Michael went into spasms, still asleep, foaming at the mouth.  And then suddenly, he went still.  My heart beating a jackhammer tattoo inside my chest, I watched as Michael's face split in two but there was no skull, there was instead, another face, red with my son's blood.

    At that moment, I had never loved my son so much before.

    The split lengthened, and two talon like fingers emerged and split Michael's body all the way down.  A figure emerged from my son's corpse and walked on unsteady legs to the glass wall separating us.  

    The One Who Waits Beneath The Flesh lifted a hand and knocked on the glass.

    KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

    And then uttered three words,

    "Let me out."
   




(c) 2015 Frank Green[/b]

ImperfectTears
Strange Creature
United States
Joined 13th July 2015
Forum Posts: 4

I Stand Alone

I stand alone atop a tall dark mountain
The winds blow against me,
wave after wave as they hit me.
The crisp cool breeze screams through the air
All around me bats fly through the sky
As I look out onto the landscape,
I try to see through darkness.
A scream cries out through the night
I open my mouth to answer the call
but no sound comes from my mouth
I see a dark shadowy figure walk towards me
Out from the shadows she approaches me
Calling out my name
in her sweet song voice.
I'm captivated by her beautiful face
Her beauty is stunning
She reaches out for me
I take her hand
and lead her into the darkness
Together we will haunt for eternity
Together
Forever    

poet Anonymous

Why are you looking under my bed?

That's my bed little kid.

Do you want to see what is under my bed?

I know what it is under it little kid.

What is your name little kid,
You the one waking me up when i sleep.

My name,
she says,
Is the name of a disease.

littlePrince
pallormortis
Twisted Dreamer
Canada 2awards
Joined 16th Mar 2014
Forum Posts: 67

Flies

flies love my hands
and they dance around my eyes.
the scent of death lingers over my flesh
tainting my nature and nurtures rot.
memories of rotting, matted fur haunt my skin
and i let my eyes close to welcome the night.

i taste most profound death,
small random bites, dropping like flies.
hidden spirits lightly touch the bones
of a forgotten and overlooked faceless grin.
plants grow between me, pulling me towards the earth
and i feel my body disappear.

poet Anonymous

Follow Your Heart.

"It had to be done" he thought while looking at his trembling hands, the smell of iron being unleashed by each crimson drop that plops to the ground. His heart kept a slow, steady pace while that of his victim had stopped after the knife was pulled out of his gut, and his guts came tumbling out like an over packed cupboard. For the first time since his surgery, Roy felt calm and quenched. The Hunger that has been raging within him had finally simmered down after the last breath had been drawn. He shifts his gaze to the body laying contorted on the floor- the face, although stiff with fear and death, is one he does not recognise. It is one that will own an unmarked, nameless grave.

"Follow your heart" is a timeless piece of philosophy and in Roy's case, the very thing that lead him to this blackened back-alley, standing over a stranger who's blood now permanently stained his hands, arms, clothes, conscience... A new heart gave him new hope, strength, possibilities and most of all, cravings. The kind he had never even dreamt of. Doctor Owen told him that it isn't uncommon for the heart recipient to experience sensations related to the heart donor; although strange, it wasn't unheard of for vegetarians to crave meat, non-drinkers to crave alcohol. But what would the good doctor have said if Roy told him that his cravings are of a more sinister nature? Furthermore, what would Roy have said if he knew the heart that he was following had previously beaten in the chest of the so-called Gut Cutter who has a list of twenty six victims on his serial box.
Roy, who thought that the blood of one would forever satisfy his bewildering thirst for many, has not the faintest idea that his heart's journey has only just begun.

ClearmindedVillain
Thought Provoker
United States 1awards
Joined 29th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 69

Tree Covered Road

Now that the fun has come to an end.
The time to walk home alone is now.
Nobody should fear things so simple and obviously harmless.
Just because i'll survive doesn't make the walk easier.

This walk isn't so bad if it weren't for that one long tree covered road.
Right out of a movie hell is the scene.
Imagine trees that seemed to have lives of there own.
Standing still at the entrance for what seemed like hours.
Confusion flushed the man as he shivered cold on a warm summer night.
Everything but the entrance and the end were pitch black.
Strong senses of being watched overwhelmed me with the thought of eyes staring.
The devil's eyes.

Whenever this road was your worst nightmares lived here.
A complete test of fear anyone would feel vulnerable.
History can be a scary thing.
Who knows what happened here.
When an end was finally reached sweat ran dry from my warm face.
I ran home.  

poet Anonymous

Eroticism de Satanism in the Garden of Eden

Satan ~
You don't know
these precious little jungles
in my head-head
swell.  bob.  cum.  spit.
when I nail you to my bed, three corners,
like your Jesus on the cross
bound. naked. angelic. traitor.
you will cry.  yes, you will cry.  you must cry.
to prove you have a soul, cursed
virgin worthy for Satan's penance
all in the name to bear thee demonic fruit
in the form of blooms in the tree of immortality.

Antichristus ~
'shh', listen closely
to the pitter-patter of red devil feet
rhythming past you on walking bellies scorned;
and just as I splice into you
and dismember your holy foulness
your willingness to submit to blasphemy
will devour me in, gently,
and sever my member
to rot eternally
in a womb encased in a bludgeoned tomb.

Diabolus ~  
 
your vaginal wonder
pledges allegiance to my cum:
'One nation under Satan'
atheism.
anarchy.
political debates.
minority hate.
god, country, rape.
and justice for evil
or live for justice?
I slip one talon finger
into your lapsed-catholic mouth
and finger fuck your ill-religious tongue just
until the weight of your bible's oral-gasm
bleeds saliva cum wafer black.

Pridie ~
you tear down your cinematic virgin walls
and naked in a room of man and meek
you stand before me
vagina.  breasts.  rectum.  mouth.
in no particular disorder
as you hold still within my approaching storm
readying the spiked jagged flogger
matching the cuff around your neck.
I shall strike you once, then twice
to add brilliance and magnificence
to your pornographic demonessas
radiating desperately from inside you.
 
Adam ~
and later tonight
your lips will part
a red serpent sea
and I will drown within,
fucked
as your blistering red
soiled sap
disbands the beasts
lingering beneath the thrashed
of plaguing foreskins
exorcisming post-demon lust
and to Hell we return,
in the Garden of Eden, cleansed.

poet Anonymous

roxanne-were

illuminated is the night girl
shackled to a false sexual hunger
behind rogue painted jaws
and scarlet tainted eyes of brown

erected on six-inch stilettos of gold
she barks sensually at the moon;

conveying the quivers
of a careless whispered qualm
stranded beneath the districts of red lights
I gaze beyond the radiant of her darkness, and
from an aching crouching lover's distance
she can see this lovelorn beast
longing to become her mid-night gentleman caller
all in vain to entertain her nighttime feasts
but she fears to tear down
that little black dress of filth and lace
fears to extinguish
the red light paving the way to tortured pleasure
there's a full moon out tonight, I say
caressing the faultless silhouette of her virgin face
just as her faux flesh trembles, protrudes and splits
beneath my touch ~
leave those dirty wolves to run your wild, I say
just as her body breaks, rebirths, cowers and lunges
above the fragile of my body
where her deadly kiss severs my neck from bone
a monogamous token
a dedication of her love;

she won't stand sharing me with another girl

poet Anonymous

Devil Woman

upon my liars bed
beneath the sacred
of my infernal lips
pre-conceived from fornication and famine  
I set your soul afire ~
and beneath your iconic crown
of gemstone greed and
ember lust
lies a prodigal sinner, tempted and
post-de-humanized
by carnality's
rich ungodly pageantries ~  
as your eyes weigh heavy
upon my naked golden breasts
of mother's milk and lechery,
my body sways in habitual rhythm
to the dark enchantments
stirring from
your devilish incantations ~
as the midnight heaven eclipses
with hell, the outflow
of your blood and dust
beats rapidly
to the hum of your dying heart

poet Anonymous

Hell Hath

I invoked
the inner of my clitoriam
from its slumber
in a soiree of black magic
instilling the use
of voodooism
fury and pins
that pierced deep
into your phallus;
your blood cum excrement
seeped gallantly onto my palm
and there I read within the towering eye
the dynamic of your curse,
and there my eyes wept
as I soiled your foul
over my distended lips
and inhaled the diabolic
of your vapor lust;

and hell hath no fury
like a mistress scorned
from the infidelities
of your connubial bed  

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