6 posts
  • the_speccy_outsider 12w

    Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win~ Stephen King.

    Although, the most common perspective on Haunted House would have been about some Poltergeist haunting it. But I feel the real horror lies behind those closes doors, the ones that conceal those screams of little kids. As they are a hub for child-trafficking.

    Often encompassed with pain and cries
    Where purity has to relinquish somnolent rights
    An abode of macabre happenings
    Luring the forlorn souls for centuries

    Betwixt a quintessential secluded land
    Fancied by those holding secrets in hand
    And then during one stormy night
    The Devil gets ready to take plight

    Haunts those innocent voices
    That are too young to have any vices
    Stripping off their identity with coercion
    Their pristine dreams are a prey for arson

    Clutching those bare bodies, they do
    Heinous acts that are ominous hitherto
    Bringing shame to Witches, Ghosts, Zombies, Spooky Dolls and Vampire
    Ensnaring it all under that intimidating empire

    Is real Horror the one that the folklores hold
    Or is it selling our Humanity, for Hell to behold


    Happy Halloween! ��
    Check out other parts for our Halloween Collab on #rendezvouswithspookyfigures

    To this bunch of supreme talent. @/kin_jo @/fromwitchpen @/squared @/_astitva_ @/captain_blant @/shrey2310

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    Haunted House

    It only takes a sip of Evil Wine to combust sanity and let the tormented blood flow through one's veins, crushing those worshipping the virtues.

  • kin_jo 12w

    Happy halloween ��

    A Collab with my close ones . THANK YOU❤️

    check out other parts on

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    Your dead ringer, your Baby Doll

    Laying beside you , right next to you
    In a satin White dress you once ripped off me
    Blood, stained over my thigh
    Driping through my neck
    Unweaved tangled knots
    Hair falling over my face
    Nails broken and bruised

    Do you still feel my naked warmth?
    Do you still feel my breath?
    The one you snatched bit by bit
    Drowning me in the pleasure of death
    Look what you have forced me to do,
    I crave for you, like you did for my flesh

    Your baby doll is here to make you remember
    The night once you craved !

    Baby Doll!!!

  • fromwitchpen 12w

    I'm Evistinia Mak'Mahabet . Thrilling anecdotes and the grandma stories are what, evident my childhood's purlieu. Ostrich head, a broomstick always lived in the drawers of my closet. I was 15, when was skin-raped by my class fellows. In the contrary, was engaged to a man to whom beauty meant every ounce of gold. He loved a model like colleen, left me beheaded.
    So what describes a girl like me in this society?
    Mockery or myths.
    Named as witch blotted with superstition. People used to halt the steps of their daughters, visioned me as a catastrophic disgusting being. Introvert I became, confidence shattered. Holocausts, phantoms and darkness what gave me peace. Depression my only crony. Till, I started to feel strong with this word 'witch' . I'm proud to be a witch , to be able to scare those homosapiens who don't have hearts to beat, I ate them, all Blue.

    Pot-au-feu broiled into
    grubby eigengrau effluvium
    of waspishness with fulminated
    brains, teleported trepidated
    train of cadavers

    M Mushrooms-
    A Mawkishness-
    C Maggots-
    A Mummified-
    B Matelots-
    R Mankind-
    E Mannequin-

    Ain't They spine-tingling?

    I abrade skulls as
    lovelorn pesticides
    masticate my flesh
    Incarnated. Bewitched.
    From the witches of Eastwick to
    be caged in jack-o'-lantern
    imbroglio, mind
    with a balustraded parapet
    Cards. Blood. Shade. Guffaws.

    My countenance is cleaved
    My lèvres are disconsolated
    My palms holds knack to break necks
    My plates of meat are contrariwise, lesioned
    My orbs dwell in catacombs
    My shoulders, home to cobwebs
    My tresses are smoky– vantablack
    My body cladded with splotches and laments

    Who sculptured me with tarmacked sepulchre
    Weren't they homosapiens poking mullock at me

    Condemned with magic
    Blessed with fire. Tapered caterwauls.
    I'm a witch . Hazel or in ebullition.
    Who I'm
    expounds you!

    _your thoughts can make me comely or huckery.
    to read the other parts click on #rendezvouswithspookyfigures

    Thank you so much @/kin_jo @/the_speccy_outsider @/squared @/_astitva_ @/shrey2310 and @/captain_blant for your time and support in this collaboration <3

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    31st Oct, no more a Halloween but a
    beautiful tragedy to some
    pure hearts.

  • _astitva_ 12w

    Thank you so much @writersnetwork for your kind repost (24) ❤️

    Crawling centipedes in chilling coffin with cobwebs covering a cadaver nailed as a nightmare in terrifying twilights of Transylvania  suffuses with a shiver in spines, when restrained revenant rises with a stink of suppression.

    Wrapped in a stitched sable shroud on a skin speared with syringes of scoffs since my innocent infancy to aweful adolescence then to yelling youth, I impelled to imbibe my tears staining my spots sanguine.

    I seasoned to sip blood over my breathing birthdays fostering my fervours to infix fiendish fangs blandly in cynical subclavian of moribund mortals to quench my centennial crave for calmness.

    I bosom blemish on my bloated fizzog blanketed in cauldron of bats negating the feeble folklores fused by false facades by strolling on consecrated circles chewing garlics sitting in shrines structured with speculums after seeing the lustrous leeches cloaked in chiffon capes of courtesy.


    Thank you so much @fromwitchpen @kin_jo @the_speccy_outsider @shrey2310 @squared @captain_blant for making this Halloween scarily meaningful ��

    Thanks for the participation ��


    Beware of me �� I am

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    A veracious vampire

    Apocalypse of
    Murdered mirth
    Pledging to


  • shrey2310 12w

    POV: a ghost that still haunts
    Hold me again
    from the bottom this time
    I’ll help you to migrate your transient heart
    from one to another, like trading residential device. Sitting upon the time,
    I have paused for you, I have a surprise to offer you but,I won’t hint you this time.

    I’d let you know
    the way I undress emotions,
    with tears upon cheeks of sky
    feel of demise from the half-midnight
    lastly; letting poetry happen
    observing suicidal sunset in your

    the way you chewed lies,
    bidding farewell to wise pledge and loyal swear of my life; you then seemed like a cutback of my relaxed days, peak of bullets and everlasting disgrace, i had worn every season every time.

    I didn’t know if I had to,
    clip sunflowers over my skin to assure the sunshine within me, roses to record the rank of my love, sky to measure the perimeter of my beauty and water to show the transparency
    in my spirit.

    //some say, of how two hearts
    are meant to fall
    and the sky is the author
    of their destiny.
    will it be fine if i say
    that ours' was written
    over the clouds
    that were meant to fade?
    or was it my heart
    that was meant to break,
    right after i fall?

    silence that exists in the
    corners of my room and
    a void that stays betwixt
    the fake, honeyed words
    spreading like a smog
    like a full moon's governance
    that has a hold on this town.
    my already existing existence
    slowly starts to dry with
    dripping sweat of mine
    feeble sounds of my aching soul
    seems to leave me alone
    with the evils of my head.
    with the consciousness that fades
    while this head starts to ache,
    here i stand like an
    answer without the question
    or like a misconception,
    truly yours'
    but with exception.

    eyes with genuinity
    and love with innocence
    were never enough for you,
    nor for your presence.

    all your promises for reasons to stay
    wilted with the rose that you left,
    yet the thorns
    pierced deep in me,
    deep enough to kill me,
    and they actually did, did killed me.//

    -The blinking lights, were the indication of the beginning of your rough nights; the broken vase was exactly the period of your life from now, you may get drop any moment down from anywhere and I’ll cheers some beer with futile soil, celebrating each day of yours from now as a life imprisonment with pain, just pain.


    Lines between // belongs to me
    the other lines written by @squared


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    poetry was the only echo of my voice
    that’ll never return back in your ears ever again.