Winter’s Hold

I see the appendage of a tree, stripped bare like bones ravaged by natures scavengers. I see the rock, ancient, towering and monumental. It is grey synonymous with the old. I see death, sadness and forlorn without hope. Much like the faces of those looking out from within. The land is gripped in Winter’s hold. It is cold and foreboding. All recoiling from her icy touch.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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Picture Challenge

I walked what seemed like hours in the darkness
Taking re-assurance from the texture of uneven bark between my fingers
The trees, some three times my age, guided me
Like an old man holding gently the hand of his grandchild
I walked towards the light that hung in the air like some ghostly apparition
With a beauty most haunting it gave me chills
Was I heading towards salvation from the colour of the night
Or a prelude to my own eternal darkness

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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Monsters

The soft undeniable sound of footsteps
Coming from the dark corner of the room
Slowly lifting the duvet higher
Cuddling onto teddy for comfort and protection

Closer those footsteps are now getting
Almost at the bottom of the bed
You scream as something tugs at the duvet
Footsteps run back towards the dark corner

A light switched on illuminates the room
Mum has come to see what’s wrong
The tears she wipes away with love
Reassuring you the monster’s gone

Dark again the room as she leaves you
You wait to hear those steps once more
With duvet high and teddy hugged in tight
It’s only sleep that finds you now

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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Imaginary Friend

Herbert looked at himself in the mirror. He was changing. Unlike his best friend Amelia, who grew taller and older with the passing seasons, he was still the little boy he had always been, just a little more transparent. Amelia was the only one that could see him when he first arrived, but it seemed now more and more he was becoming invisible to even her.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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Word/Genre Challenge #6

The word for this challenge was:
Tongs, and genre: Sci-Fi.

“Romeo Oscar One Five, do you receive, over?”

The intercom returned nothing but silence, just as it had done every time the same question had been asked for what had been a hour.

RO15, less formally known as Research Officer Jacqueline Miles, had transported aboard the strange floating ship escorted by a security team in the hopes of discovering if, or what, occupied the vessel. Attempts at communicating proved unsuccessful.

The information reported back, up until the point of radio silence, had been that the ship had been abandoned, with all escape pods deployed, though there was an uneasy sense of not being alone.

“Romeo Oscar One Five, do you receive, over?”

Several minutes past in silence, until a definite buzz of interference came of the intercom. Again the question was asked,

“Romeo Oscar One Five, do you receive, over?”

Another more sustained buzz replied, this time however, interjected with a croaky gargling female voice.

“Capsule…..fluorescent glow…..closer examination…..tongs smashed it…..unleashed a ghost.”

“Romeo Oscar One Five, can you repeat. Communications breaking up. Did you find something?”

“It’s found…..”

What followed was a horrifying scream, the last communication with RO15, Jacqueline Miles.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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Word/Genre Challenge #2

I opened up to my FB friends and family once again to offer me a single object and a genre in which to fit it in. Second up:

‘Jellyfish’ in paranormal genre.

“So you say you’re being haunted by a creature that floats in midair, with long tendrals hanging from a gelatinous disc like body!”

“Exactly,” confirmed Mr Habernathy, physically shaking. “It appears from nowhere, its long snake like arms, or legs, seem to want to latch onto my head. Probably wanting to feed on my brain.”

The witch hunter quickly flicked through pages of an old worn tome, stopping only when he’d found the required page.

“Quite so it would seem. Come along, we must not dawdle.”

Mr Habernathy stood startled and still shaking, “You are going to exercise it right?”

“On the contrary my good man, we’re going to feed it.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The jellyfish like entity, or Mind Flayer as they’re referred to in arcane writings, was exactly where Mr Habernathy had last seen it, floating above his cooking pot warming itself on the flickering flames.

“Oh you’re a beauty!” gasped the Witch Hunter in awe. He approached cautiously, removing his hat in the process.

Long tendrals began to reach out as he got near, clamping down as he allowed them to touch his head. Once connected, the once translucent feelers began to shimmer an iridescent cacophony of colours.

Several seconds later and the entity disappeared, leaving the Witch Hunter stood motionless, eyes dormant of any emotion.

“Are you okay?” called out Mr Habernathy, who had been hiding, but watching from the otherside of the partially open door.

“Quite,” came the reply. “And you would be? In fact, where am I, and what’s that above your head?”

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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Within Dark Shadows

Her almost whispered calls 
Break the silence of the night 
The scent of sweet perfume 
Carries gently upon the breeze 
And yet she herself 
Remains shrouded within the night 

Like the spider on a web 
She waits to lure her prey 
That one hapless soul 
The stories haven’t reached 
Tales written in the lore’s of time 
Warning of such as her 

And there will be one too 
Following the haunting sound of her voice 
Filled with curiosity to venture 
Deep within the dark city shadows 
And just as the cat in stories old 
They shall never see another day

Copyright: authorchrisbrown 

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Night Visit

First, there was nothing.

Then there was pain, like a knife cutting deep into the very fabric of my chest and moving down towards my stomach. My eyes flung themselves open but I could see nothing. Everything was black.

I felt my insides being twisted and pulled, as if my very core was being removed by unseen hands. The pain was now unbearable and my eyes closed drifting me away to nothing.

Time passed in limbo, feeling and sensing nothing. Then my eyes opened.

I was in bed, in my room. Just as I remember before falling asleep. There were remnants of sweat on my brow and a dull ache in my chest. I looked down to see nothing but a very fine scar, about the width of a hair running the full length of my body.

What had happened? How had it happened? Was I awake in a dream or dead and remembering? Outside it was still dark, and I’ve never been more afraid of it than I was right then.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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