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Fiction

Asylum Sisters by Crimson Quintessence


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We are not the sisterhood of sorrow

we are the sisterhood of the asylum

bringing you what we know the best

how to scare and torment you

and put you to the test.

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We’ll creep into your dreams

seep in through your eyes

bleed out through your ears

dine on your pelt

and reap on your fears.

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Whine not, do we ever

our horridness is most clever

try to cut through our skin

we draw from within

souls as black as coal

exhausted and cold

not ready to fold.

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Entomb you we will

destroy all with a wretched chill

bordello of blood

runs our neighborhood.

We love you

we hate you

we can’t live without you.

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Come on in

feel the heat

let it burn

right at your feet.

Be our victim

or our friend

the asylum is open

who’s to know if your soul will fade at all

does it really matter

your lies will hide your flaws

we won’t tell

you inspire our inner serial killer.

welcome_to_hell_by_ladyang

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Copy Right Protected by the Crimson Vaults 2017.

Copy Right Protected
by the Crimson Vaults
2017.

 

**Click on any Image to redirect to the images web page/designer where it has been provided.
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I hold no ownership to any image used unless otherwise stated**


The Ninth Nail by Crimson Quintessence


Trivium - Bloody Skull

Trivium – Bloody Skull

You broke my heart, you devil you.  It was the only organ I had left that was mine and mine alone.

If I were to pick up one of the fragmented shards, I’d likely use it to cut you to shreds.  Then watch the crimson ooze from each wound as my fingers dance in them, one by one.

Crimson looks quite back in the moon’s light, don’t you think, Stanley?

I reserve my dark and divine right to bathe in it, death’s dance.  Let it caress my torn soul and blacken me as that soul of mine dies with the rest of me.

Buckets of blood weighted down with the rusty nails I drove into the ends of each finger and toe.

Broken bones, puzzle pieces of a fractured man.

Revenge, my divine father taught me well.

Carve each bit of flesh like a fine leather he said.

I’m the blind guardian praying for deliverance.

I was organized, but the ninth nail was stuck in an awkward place, the wrong place.

Somehow, it shot right through your thumb and embedded itself in your throat.

You should’ve listened to me and sat still.

Now, look at what you’ve done.

I tried to make something so utterly grotesque look beautiful through my art and you’ve ruined it.

You completely disturbed my flow.

How can I remove the metal splinter from the canvas without destroying my masterpiece?

Frustrated, I take a moment to breathe, to think, pacing back and forth.

Now, you’ve become a thorn in my very own throat.

How dare you!

If only you were a flower, I’d rip your petals off one by one. with each exhale, with each tear.

I sat, pondering what to do next.

Then I found my hands around your throat, I’ve never felt alive before now, this moment.

An idea comes to me.

Behold, the headless man, my masterpiece.

The ninth nail paved way for the greatest horror art I have ever created.

Hatred only boiled in my stomach for a moment or two.

Acid clawed its way up my own throat but I swallowed it down.

Tears may have seeped from my blackened eyes briefly.

But now, now your dead corpse is just something I wrote.

The flower in my heart bloomed with brand new blood-petals.

I took the ninth nail home with me and my new artwork.

I used it to mount my new delight on the wall of my study.

The ninth nail is all I ever needed to finish what was started.

Goodbye, Stanley.

skull and red roses by serenity nme

skull and red roses by serenity nme

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Copy Right Protected by the Crimson Vaults 2016.

Copy Right Protected
by the Crimson Vaults
2016.

**Click on any Image to redirect to the images web page/designer where it has been provided.
All images are found using Google Image Search and are not always labeled
I hold no ownership to any image used unless otherwise stated**


Splintered Darkness by Crimson Quintessence


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Victoria Frances and deviantART

An extended claw

from the darkness

a lick of the tongue

the beast lives.

Gargling venom in its throat

the gnashing of teeth

sharp like a razor’s finest blade

splintered darkness.

Beware the vacant stare

it will paralyze you

stop you in your tracks

steal your dreams.

Lifeless eyes

a black heart that does not beat

yet it breathes

heat seeking breath of foulness down your neck.

Petrified dreams

a million and one screams

it feeds on your thoughts.

You wake

sweat-soaked and terrified

then you turn on your light and realize

it was just an illusion

cooked up in a dream

no more real than a silent scream.

silent scream by lupographics

silent scream by lupographics

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Copy Right Protected  by the Crimson Vaults 2016.

Copy Right Protected
by the Crimson Vaults
2016.

**Click on any Image to redirect to the images webpage/designer where it has been provided.
All images are found using Google Image Search and are not always labelled
I hold no ownership to any image used unless otherwise stated**


Abstruse Inamorata by Quintessence


Mistress_of_Shadows_by_Sioned01Hidden

forbidden

his dirty little secret.

She openly displays

her affection

her adoration

her love.

He displays

on mirrored notes from her

nothing of his free will

or is it willingness of choosing not to.

She professes

she confesses

he watches

the dance begins.

Pledges made

behind closed doors.

But she’s the one who openly explores

her inner whore.

Sharing their time

with those she adores.

When will she get it

when will she see

He doesn’t love her

as she wants it to be.

She is a secret

a hidden play thing

He’s not as serious

as his love has no meaning.

She is his fun time

sex without commitment

while his wife sits at home

soaking up the financial enjoyment.

He does not buy her

extravagant gifts

no flowers

no jewellery

no trinkets of love.

Those, he saves for his wife

when she has little fits.

Where have you been

who’ve you been with

do you think I can’t smell

your whoring little quiff.

Your family is here

if that’s what you want

or do you want to run off

with that penniless cunt.

This is the last straw

Your things are on the lawn

packed in bags

you ass-hole

get up and be gone.

He decides he’s not ready

to begin a family anew

He ruined the first one

for a drug induced screw.

She should have paid mind

to the signs all around her.

She was never more than a means to escape his mid-life disaster.

Now she cries

each night

and each day.

The jump with the blow-job

was a cute little trick

but that’s where his brain’s at, 

in the end of his prick.

Bend her over

snap a shot.

She’s a slut in the bedroom

but her life’s full of rot.

The affair was such fun

until they were caught

Secret Lovers they were

but now they are not.

She was used in the moment

It is her own fault

she knew he was married

yet she sucked his dick and opened her vault.

He’d leave his wife and spend his life

forever and always with her.

Foolish woman she was

but couldn’t figure it out

how he used her for access

to what he was really about.

A simple way in

drugs, sex, and sin.

It’s where Inamorata ends

and abstruse deception begins.

His wife and three kids moved on with new lives.

He died drunk, stoned, brilliant and alone.

He couldn’t go on.

He fucked it all up

one morning at dawn.

 

 

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Original written work of Gillian A. Gibson CopyRight Protected by the Crimson Vaults 2015

Original written work of Gillian A. Gibson Copy Right Protected by the Crimson Vaults 2015

 

 


End Game: A Verse-style story


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The pictures,

memories

no-one misses her more than me

The profile,

created in immeasurable taste

hidden treasures,

mine to keep.

They frantically search for the missing;

my barbituate haze,

tangled maze of clues left behind,

taunts to the authoritative ones,

it’s a love affair you know,

the stalker, the hunter, the evil that dwells within;

the victim, the hunted, the innocent that have no idea.

I left a picture in his mailbox, showing her beauty.

I gave him only one day to find her

before me,

before she and I would have our dance.

Play time

have you seen her before,

do you recognize her?

She walks alone, unsuspecting,

all she’ll remember is I made her smile, once,

made her feel beautiful.

She’s so unaware of what I really am,

a monster in the darkness,

a nightmare waiting to be born of her fears.

The lock clicks

the door shuts

my slow breath in the darkness,

I’m watching her

she has no idea I’m there

she talks to her cat,

hangs up her coat,

heads for the shower in a candle-lit room.

Night-goggles, the perfect tool for observation in concealment

time to strike

from behind, I grab her in a choke-hold

she tries to fight….

useless,

I’m much stronger and more prepared

the thrill, the dance, the kill.

I leave her there, on her living room floor,

they’ll find her, but I’ll be long gone.

I don’t know what is more tantalizing,

me hunting them

or me watching the others hunt me,

cat and mouse,

cloak and dagger

Spotted….

the chase is on

catch me if you can

shots fired

I escape….again.

~~~~~

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He haunts my nightmares,

screams my name,

sends clues of each one.

If I came face-to-face with him in the street, would I know?

He’s watched me, 

followed me.

taunted me.

I don’t sleep,

he knows.

I danced with the homicidal freak once before,

it broke me

I ran,

he found me

did he miss me?

This section of town,

this side-walk,

he sees me

and I still can’t see him.

He sends pictures to remind me,

the chase is not over.

He chasing them,

me chasing him,

him watching me, trying to chase him.

It’s only a matter of time

I will catch him,

but how much more damage gets done,

before his demise,

before his downfall,

before his end game.

~~~~~

Skull rose tattoo design by NeoGzus.deviantart.com on @DeviantArt

Skull rose tattoo design by      NeoGzus.deviantart.com on     @DeviantArt

 

Clue after clue,

I send him,

if he weren’t so emotionally messed up after that first one,

he may have very well caught me by now.

Maybe he would have caught me,

had he not been so close to her.

Maybe I chose the first one a little to close to home for him.

He visits her grave often,

I watch him talking to her

cries of sorry,

tears of pain.

He’s slowly losing his willingness to keep going.

I can not allow him the fortune of giving up.

It would be an atrocity without him,

this is my game,

it will play out my way.

This next one is slightly different,

I found her,

homeless,

in an alley,

she had a small fire going to keep warm,

a transistor radio for music to calm the static of the city night.

She spotted me coming out from behind the large dumpster,

she’s not afraid,

or is she?

“CRACK”

footsteps hit the pavement in rapid flight,

the chase is on,

rain hits the pavement,

this one is a fighter.

The alleyway leads to an abandoned warehouse,

stairs, concrete, darkness,

but she’s forgotten,

footsteps echo in the hollows.

I grab her,

she struggles,

I am much stronger,

as I squeeze deeper into her throat

she coughs, gasps and gargles,

until, all at once,

she ceases.

When I let go she drops…

‘sirens’

‘voices’

‘footsteps’,

rapid, coming towards me

“Freeze!”

no time to think,

I bolt,

he’s on my heels,

minutes feel like hours,

I’m tiring….

Rain pours from the sky like a broken water main,

my eyes dark, cold, searching for escape,

I’m cornered,

he finds me,

show-down….

He comes at me worse than any man scorned,

the devil is in his eyes,

rage in his heart,

this time, he won’t let me out of this sights.

~~~~~

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The clues piled up

now, they are fitting together,

blinded before, I know see,

he’s not going to stop,

it  has to be me,

I must stop him,

at what cost?

The press conferences,

the profile delivered,

the public aware,

 a city frightened to its core.

No one sleeps,

no one is safe,

I’m not safe,

clue after clue,

I put the pieces together,

suppressed memories coming back

filling my head

the clues he left

making more sense.

I track him down,

but I’m to late,

he’s killed another,

left her laying at his feet.

He’s got the nerve to stay and say hello to me this time.

He runs,

I chase,

dead-end…

“Freeze!”

There’s no-where for him to run,

he’s stopped running.

I want to kill him now,

but something stops me,

I need to know, why…

Why the games,

the taunting,

the teasing…

“Stop trying to control the situation, you can’t, this is my game”

“What do you need?”

I need, you”

“Why”

For a long time, I was the only one you had”

“You were like my brother”

“How so?”

” All our time was together”

“No!, your time was killing, my time was trying to find you”

But you were always there, I counted on you to be there, after each one”

“Why me?”

You took her from me, so I, took her from you”.

He got his answer.

Now he would have his justice.

He crouched down, grabbed the serrated blade from its strong-hold in his ankle sheath and with one, strong, determined swipe, he slit the throat of his opponent and watched him drop like a stone.

Serial killer ended

Cop triumphant.

As he looked at the dead man he uttered one last line…..

“You were just my job, paperwork, you’ve met your end game and I’ve only just begun.”

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Copy Right Protected by the Crimson Vaults 2016.

Copy Right Protected
by the Crimson Vaults
2016.

**Click on any Image to redirect to the images webpage/designer where it has been provided.
All images are found using Google Image Search and are not always labelled
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Angel in the Rain

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Out for my every day walk

not sure where I’m going today

so, I wander….

And, here I am

at my favourite coffee shop

somewhat damp from the rain.

I love the rain

most people don’t,

they don’t see its simplicity,

the calm it can bring,

if you just listen to it as it lands on the pavement or licks the windowpane.

I order my coffee as I daydream,

my mind wandering ocean tides.

I sit at my usual table by the window in the corner.

He walks in

I’ve seen him before, but where?

The day is dull and grey

but I’m restless

I need to get out, but where?

I throw on my favourite leather jacket

and head outside, into the rain,

my head is clouded, full of static,

something lingers, but what?

Suddenly, I’m at the coffee shop

it shouldn’t surprise me,

I’m there every day for a cup of the finest in town.

Normally, I just grab it and run

not today.

She’s sitting in the corner, again

I feel compelled to stay,

her beauty captures me in a way no-one else ever has.

I sit on the other side and peer through my hair covered eyes,

I can’t help myself,

she’s so picturesk.

He’s sat himself down on the opposite corner from me

he makes me nervous, but not in a frightening way

he makes me curious

his facial features are so alluring to me,

they cause a pull from deep within me,

I still can’t place where I’ve seen him before

but I know I have.

I sneak long glances at him through my long hair

there’s something about him.

She’s looking at the window rather than out it,

what does she see?

the rain drops, 

they are dancing on the glass,

she traces them with her finger and smiles slightly,

what is she thinking about?

There’s a beautiful but sad longing behind her eyes

I can only see them slightly

as she tilts her head

what is it

what is she thinking about?

I’ve caught him looking at me a couple of times

he has this longing inquisitive air bout him

I wonder what’s going through his mind,

is it me he sees

or someone outside 

on the other side of the window?

He’s leaning his head on his knuckles 

like he’s deep in thought,

tracing his fingertip around the rim of his cup

he takes out his phone and scrolls gently.

If she only knew, he thought to himself

scrolling through all the images of the pictures he’s taken

of her, over the past few months

he wasn’t a stalker

nor was he anything vile

he was simply emotionally scared

and terribly shy.

He spent so many nights alone

just sitting in the dark, 

glaring at the ceiling, wishing, hoping,

for her.

He’d had an exceptionally busy life 

until recently

he’d realized that bouncing from place to place

and having a crazy mad work schedule

just didn’t have its appeal any more.

At one time it was like a drug to a junkie

but now,

all the different women and places in the world 

couldn’t satisfy what he lingered for

only she could.

If he only knew

how beautiful his features were to her

and then suddenly, she remembered 

where she’d seen him before,

the train station,

they’d brushed past each other

and their hands touched for a moment

their eyes had locked for just a second

but she had felt something poetic stir inside her,

a feeling she would never forget.

Then she remembered the airport,

crazy, busy, noise-filled chaos on a hot summer day,

they’d reached for the same bag in the carousel in arrivals

they’re hands touched again,

she remembered his gentleness and his apology

so sincere

and soft.

All the chance encounters since

what was the universe trying to tell her?

She softly bit her lower lip as she stared out the window

only seeing those memories

of chance encounters,

she smiled.

As he put his phone away and finished the last of his coffee

he drank in the detailed features of her face

he longed to run his thumb along her jaw-line and taste her beautiful lips

run his hands through her long black hair 

and glide his nose over her cheekbone 

until they were locked in the deepest of embraces.

But, he was afraid,

in the end 

all the others

found him difficult to be with,

his crazy schedule

the constant screams, 

pushing, grabbing, shoving

everyone pulling him from all directions

causing him to lose tiny pieces of himself along the way.

He’d become so withdrawn 

he’d stopped responding to his friends,

his family

and everyone in between.

In his darkness

he felt empty,

except when he thought about her.

One last longing, loving glance to etch her beautiful face on his mind,

he rose up from his seat

and their eyes locked, 

he froze.

He was getting up to leave

she noticed,

she locked eyes with him,

but this time she didn’t shy away like she usually did,

this time she smiled at him,

he froze.

She panicked

but she couldn’t turn away,

save me, she said to herself,

in a voice no-one could hear.

Her heart raced,

she bit her lower lip again

she rose from her chair

they both just stood there

drinking each other in

wishing, hoping.

Oh god!

what do I do?

he panicked,

but he couldn’t move,

couldn’t breathe,

couldn’t look away.

She was just like an angel

in a rain-filled sky

all the inner turmoil he’d been hanging on to lately 

suddenly vanished

all he could see, 

was her,  he tried to move,

suddenly his legs gave out and everything turned black.

Her insides sent off like fireworks

Oh god, what do I do?

All the small things that had trapped her emotionally

started to disappear

Okay girl, this is it,

time to take a chance,

She took one step forward

and he shuddered and dropped to the ground.

NO!

She ran to him

dropped to her knees

and cradled his head in her lap

stroked his face

please be okay, she whispered in his ear

tears streamed down her face.

He blinked,

everything was fuzzy,

there were all sorts of faces

looking at him, gasping

and then he felt someone cradle his head,

her hand was warm and shaking

she whispered in his ear

“please be okay”

he focused,

he knew,

her voice was as angelic as her features,

he could breathe again.

Hi, she said

Hi, he replied

glad you stayed, she said

I’m glad too, he said.

She hugged him

his heart melted.

As he wiped the tears from her eyes he realized something

this is what he was missing

a connection 

not forced by others

or by restless attempts of not wanting to be alone

but one of natural happen-stance.

There,

right before each other,

in an awkward moment of double panic,

did a man drop 

only to be caught by the angel of his dreams.

The sky didn’t fall

instead it opened up

the way all dreams of a happy ever after are supposed to.

Two souls are sometimes created together and in love before they're born~F.Scott Fitzgerald

Two souls are sometimes created together and in love before they’re born~F.Scott Fitzgerald

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Copy Right Protected
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**Click on any Image to redirect to the images webpage/designer where it has been provided.
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OF BUTCHERS AND ANGELS: PART I – ROUTE 66


Source: OF BUTCHERS AND ANGELS: PART I – ROUTE 66


Bloody Nightmare for Christmas


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‘Twas the nightmare before Christmas,

when all through the Asylum

not a patient was drooling

not even the orderly ready to rile em.

The insane were tranquilized all tied down to their beds

while nightmares and horrors filled up their heads.

The doctor in his study and I in my bed chamber

settling in for a long winters dread 

of filling out the Asylums disclaimer for the poorest of patients

who will wind up as the dead.

When out on the roof there arose such a banter

I jumped from my bed and knocked over a planter

I burst into the hall ad looked for the guard

he’s disappeared again

but his post is quite charred.

Smoke and soot filled up the all

my eyesight was blinded

I dropped to the cobblestone and began to crawl.

Screams started to come 

from all directions it seemed

pre-med or not

I was scared and I too screamed.

Shrieks and shrills

it’s all I could hear

I swallowed real hard

and crawled for my gear

a hatchet in one hand

in the other a chainsaw

if these fuckers got lose

they’ll lynch Doctor Warsaw.

I peeked round the entrance

to ward number nine

it’s eerily quiet

I’m gonna be fine.

What the hell is that – that just hit me?

the head of a patient

he looks about fifty.

A river of blood

is flowing quite freely

it’s painted the walls

and in front of me now stands Hannibal all steely.

I’m going to kill him

he screams out with glee

I’ll cut and fillet him

and grind up his bones

you’ll keep me no longer 

you festering drones.

Off he ran like a beast in the night

more screams came and gave me a terrible fright.

Nurse Ratchet! you there, where are you going?

throwing in the towel you fuck

a murderous rampage is really a grim showing

I won’t stick around to die

I really must be going.

Ward eight was reached after ward nine

and all had escaped

I’m terrified now

as I look for an exit

It’s blocked by bodies of the dead 

filleted and draped.

Just what the fuck am I gonna do now?!

I must get out

survive this some how.

Right then the Juggernaut jumped in my path

I revved up the chainsaw and was on the warpath

He tried to come at me

but I was too fast

I  cut him in two

as I swiftly ran past

As long as I’m focused

I’ll cut them all down

I remember the last Christmas

when IT came to town.

IT killed every last patient

with its long jagged claws

and ate up their hearts

with cold Krampus jaws.

This year, things will be different

I will make this all stop

I’ll kill it this time 

and then close up shop.

It rounded the corner

like the maniac hunger

and took up its stance

like an alien beast

hunkering down 

for its annual feast.

I stood my ground 

and readied to fight

It gnashed its jaws

ready to bite

I’ll finish you off

before dawn’s precious light.

It rushed at me once

but I smashed its head with my hatchet

It crashed to the ground

crushing nurse Ratchet.

I’ve wounded it swiftly

and blinded its eyes

I take stance with the chainsaw

and the beast shrieks and cries

I think it’s foreseeing its ugly demise.

One more lunge and I saw off its legs

I feel empowered now

when this is over I shall enjoy some beast bacon and eggs.

Crawling so feverishly 

towards me again

the thing won’t give up

it has no restrain

I ready the chainsaw

I will not give up

I tighten both arms

and wind myself up

It comes at me again

and I hold tight my stance

It leaps at me now

a horrid snakes dance

I slash with the chainsaw

and rip it in two

I slash at it more

and chop up the grue

Victorious I am

the beast is no more

I search for the others

to finish the chore.

The Asylum was emptied

of every last corpse

Survivors were moved to the Rotting Corpse Motel.

A quiet little place

right beside Hell.

“Can you see how my mind warps”……….

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Copy Right Protected by the Crimson Vaults 2015.

Copy Right Protected
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2015.

 

**Click on any Image to redirect to the images webpage/designer where it has been provided.
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I hold no ownership to any image used unless otherwise stated**

 


The Killing Floor – A Verse Style Story


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Ten fathoms down

dark, damp

earth’s tears trickle down the limestone

it’s a quaint little hell room.

I have him strung up in chains

hands and feet bound

mouth gagged with his own boxers.

He thought he was oh so slick

slipping her a rufee while she powdered her nose

I was much the slicker one

I saw him

Saw what he did.

When she staggered out with him, barely conscious

I was following in the shadows.

His quaint little bachelor pad

in the bedroom, whips, chains, bindings.

I watched from the fire escape.

Stupid boy, left the window open

rain-soaked, I readied myself

his back was turned

he was a busy boy

he rushes.

She was bound, naked and gagged

enough now

monster

my turn.

He didn’t even hear me enter the room

and then I was behind him.

One swift crack to the back of his skull

down he went.

He lived in seclusion

perfect for me

no one to witness his disappearance.

Bound and gagged now himself

I drug him to my truck

left him in the flat-bed and made my way to my dark retreat deep into the woods.

His torture will be my pleasure

I slap his face until he awakens

dazed, confused, afraid

what a turn of events.

You thought you would be giving a rather good flogging to that girl tonight, didn’t you I say.

Bloody mumbles, static in my ears

no matter it won’t be to long now

I will be enjoying his complete silence.

First I remove his fuck-stick

that’s right, he rapes, doesn’t know any other way and doesn’t want to,

Shame, but non-the-less he chooses not to learn,

It’s left a bloody hole about the size of a golf ball

Messy… I am enjoying this.

You won’t be needing that where I’ll be sending you

I laugh, a devil’s type laugh, almost.

Now, these hands of yours, such evil things, I growl.

First, I break each finger at the knuckle

he screams and chokes on his own fear.

I grab the handsaw 

this is going to hurt you fucking prick.

I cut ever so slowly

just as he did with his hunting knife the night he took me

tearing me to shreds, every part of me.

Escaping him after the horrid torture provided my clarity as to what I would do with the rest of my scared and disfigured life.

The second-hand fell to the floor

blood trailing and circling round the drain.

Hmm, your feet and legs, well, you won’t have any more use for them I’m afraid, they must come off.

This time I grab the chain saw, reve it up and cut off his feet first and I kick them across the room

I pause a moment, a good surgeon needs music, yes, Frank, sing to me.

I put on Frank Sinatra’s Fly me to the moon and continue my dismantling of our world’s predator.

Slicing through both legs at the knees comes at such ease

I then move up to the top of his thighs as “My Way” plays

How poetic.

My patient has ceased to be now

Shame

wish he could have felt the rest of his dismemberment.

 I finish, with the last cut being the removal of his head

I have something special I want to do with that, so,I place it in a pot of boiling water for several hours.

The other parts go into the incinerator of the killing floor

I grab the hose and after admiring the blood and painting myself with it, I wash away the crimson river, down the drain it goes.

I pause  moment more to dance around to “New York, New York”

Now the fire in the incinerator is burning bright, flames licking the body parts like the devil himself

I can turn to mister’s skull.

The flesh has been boiled off and the eyeballs fell from their sockets and where easy to scoop out of the pot.

I hang the skull to dry

tomorrow it will become my newest piece of artwork.

The killing floor is my art gallery you see.  Filled with velvet numbness of my vengeful kills of those maniac butchers of women.

I may have survived his hell but he did not survive me.

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2015.

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The Rise of Elena


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Escaping her wrist confines

she crept down the darkened hallway to an open window and out into the night

Retracing Anna’s memory to a homestead which she found empty of anyone else

she climbed the staircase 

found the walk-in closet and there in the back the leather gear she so loved

A perfect fit complete with boots, bracelets and leg armour strap which held her favorite blade

now to seek him out and pay him his due.

sleek, stealth, hungry for revenge

dripping water echoed in the night

the song of an old owl

the screeching of an animal dying

she could feel his heartbeat inside her mind

his pulse was rapid on the scars she bore on her wrists

she was numb

there he was

drunk and passed out in the armchair

she was swift in her movements

when the blade tore across his throat he had only but one gasp at air

the first cut was deep

the sanguine flowed from him as the rippled river did from Anna’s wrist on the night of her demise

the second cut nearly severed his head

there was a massive gush

a river of red

and it was over

Elena stood over his lifeless body

ran the blade of her knife over her tongue

as she swallowed she had but one thought

I walk the night alone

she vanished that night

but every once in a while

an abusive man comes up missing or dead

She will forever remain in darkness.

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Waves


2

Wading out into the water enjoying the surf Pip made his way.  Today would be the day.  \paddling out on his surfboard he knew he was ready.  Against his fathers wishes he had snuck out in the early hours before the sun had risen and gone down to the beach with his board.  he’d watched surfers for years and only had four lessons but he was sixteen and determined.

Seven am, a beautiful sun had risen and there was a warm breeze.  The waves had begun to swell and out he went.  Over one, tow, he turned himself around.  Here comes a big one.  He was ready.  He steadied himself.  The wave picked him up and off he went.  As he stood he had an odd feeling, he was steady, but suddenly there it was and it was moving in fast.  The dark shadow was coming in from his right side moving like a torpedo.  The fin surfaced and it was too late.  it grabbed hold of the board and flipped him like a pancake.  As he hit the water he felt the tear in his abdomen.  It was too late.  Pip was gone, never having fully rode the wave he wanted all his life.  Lost in the waves forever.

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Original written work of Gillian A. Gibson Copy Right Protected by the Crimson Vaults 2015

Original written work of Gillian A. Gibson Copy Right Protected by the Crimson Vaults 2015

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The Fall of Anna


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On a cold stormy night 

she lay there, staring a the ceiling

tears ran down the sides of her eyes 

spilling into her ears

she didn’t care

she knew what she was going to do 

and how she was going to do it

she raised herself up

walked into the washroom

lit a smoke and began to pen her farewell

Contemplating her emptiness

taking in her pain

the how, the why

it didn’t matter any more

there were enough sleeping pills and pain-killers 

to numb her body enough 

but still

to keep her wits about her

the blade was sharp enough

fairly new, it would do

if the slices were just right

as she crept downstairs, he slept

completely oblivious to her pain

her torment

he cared not

either way

it was time 

to let it all go

she’d taken all she could take

her heart strewn in scattered pieces on the floor

small reflections of moonlight caught her sad eyes

she filled the tub

steam engulfed the room

strangling her breath

as she toyed with the blade in her fingers

she wondered if it would hurt 

or if she would just simply slip away

and never wake up again

the first cut stung

she watched the blood pour out

like a small rippled river

she felt nothing

numb

the second cut came at ease

as she dropped her arms into the water

the heat pulled out the red liquid quickly

she grew tired

and drifted into unconsciousness

soon, Anna was gone

who woke in the hospital was not Anna

but Elena and she was not weak

she was angry

made of gun-metal and smoke

He who awakened her was going to pay

for Anna’s suicide………

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Original written work of Gillian A. Gibson Copy Right Protected by the Crimson Vaults 2015

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Sorority Hell Night


Mine_Shaft

Would I cry for you

lay down my life and die for you

carry a corpse a mile for you

would I give up my heart

if it meant falling apart

could I survive, when it’s torn away

empty inside on the darkest of days

running away from the ally cat strays

can’t seem to forget what drew me near

to this sorority in Everclear.

daphne

Carnal lust or mortal fear

yet here I stand in wretched tears

lost, alone or broken, every bone

shattered from the inside out

feeling alone and possessing doubt

what keeps me here

my mortal fear, of being alone

cold as stone, emotionless droan

pushing through life always feeling the roam.

One, the loneliest number to face

dying internally through the rats maze during haze

caught and choked, such a cruel joke

heart rate slows to near dull pace

appearing dead to the human race

wrap her up in plastic and cords

bury her deep within the woods

haunting the ones who put her there

left her covered and alone, they did not care

this jokes on them, they should beware

she remembered what they did

pay they must for what they hid

sounds in the night cannot be explained

blood spills from each one blamed

one by one she takes her revenge

they won’t escape this deathly hell

pledge a secret these sisters did do

plotted revenge, the dead one did too.

drag-me-to-hell-650

 

A few frights to begin

then each death had its turn

revenge was hers for their mortal sins

haze her, kill her, then cover her up

pretend she went missing and take your sip from the sacred cup

a pledge of her own she fulfills this night

take them one by one deep in the night

the first one goes easy suffocated and dropped

her body hidden, at the old burial plot

the next scalded in a shower so hot

her flesh melted before the shower shut off

two more left to take out tonight

but how will they die

from pain or from freight

the next one hides like the coward she is

until the dead sniffs out all of her fears

found her hiding under her bed

speared straight through, now she is dead

the last one is missing

but not for too long

I’ll find a tune for the dead girls swan song

ah, there she is, laying on her bed

is anyone out there plays in her head

sliding from under a mattress so thin 

I slit her throat wide and syphon out all her sanguine

filling my jars, not spilling a drop

I hack off her head

chop; chop; chop

Hell-Night-1981-Movie-7

Oh, they’re going to find it up the flag pole

laid out on display for all to know

what was once hidden

is no more

the secret is out

you fucking whore!

Sorority secrets always come out

when pledges aren’t dead

they’re calling you out.

lblblblblblblblblblai

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Original written work of Gillian A. Gibson Copy Right Protected by the Crimson Vaults 2015

Original written work of Gillian A. Gibson Copy Right Protected by the Crimson Vaults 2015

 

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OF BUTCHERS AND ANGELS: PART I – ROUTE 66


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The dark of night and the streets were all but empty.

While sitting quietly in my motel room on route 66 I hear the soft, gentle murmurs from the next room. A young couple having sex, great that’s all I need.  I came out here for peace and quiet to finish my novel and all I get is moans and visual images of the beat of each heart, the rush of blood through their bodies and heated throws you have teenage uncontrolled drunken sex.

I have sequestered myself to get this book done by the deadline so the publishing company won’t revoke my advance.

You now it’s bad enough that the woman at the check in looked a lot like the Crypt Keeper but now this, seriously I need a drink.  Oh what fantastic agony is this?  Empty scotch bottle.

Great on top of everything else I have to drive 17 miles to the road side liquor depot.  I’ve got absolutely no hope of writing freedom now. Now I’ll be lucky if I make it back by dawn and the Sandman takes eyesight for a good 8 hours after a Vicodin and scotch cocktail.  Well there is no time like the present to scamper off to the liquor store.

As I make the short trek from my motel room to my car I notice a black pick-up driving by slowly, but it doesn’t turn in and doesn’t stop.  The windows are darkly tinted so naturally I cannot make out who is inside it.  I mark it in my mind as odd and note the licence plate “It’s Mine”.  Hmm, someone’s little bitter I think to myself.  Oh well, I’m in need of scotch and that is what I am going to get.

**********

In 1981 Jenna Tilson moved into a beautiful house on Chestnut Avenue not far from route 66.  It had the greenest lawn on the block and a huge back yard with the largest oak tree you have ever seen.  The trunk alone was the width of three grown men.  Its branches were long and reached up to the sky as high as the eye could see.

Jenna had come into a considerable fortune after the death of her husband, Charles, and decided after two years of locking herself away from the outside world she needed a major change.  This house had caught her eye from the moment she’d driven past it in her Escalade three months ago.  The “For Sale” sign brought a beam of happiness to her immediately and she contacted the Realtor and got down to business.

Move in day…

The sun shone so bright that one would go blind if not wearing sunglasses but nothing could distract Jenna from the complete cloud nine feeling she had.  The drive was long but the music she played soothed her broken heart.  All three of Colbie Caillat’s albums were close at hand and Jenna played them all consecutively.  Singing and smiling on her way to her new home.  This was absolutely the right decision.  A new beginning was waiting for her and she was more than willing to meet it head on.

As she arrived she saw the movers were already unloading and properly placing everything where it should go. The fact that they were so professional and organized lifted any stress of unpacking she could have faced.  Boxes were gently packed and clearly labelled providing quick guidance.  She was meticulous when packing it all up. The fact that she had a slight obsessive compulsion to have things in order at all times actually came into play rather well on this occasion.  Charles used to torment her about it but playfully as he knew it could not be helped.  They’d wind up giggling over it for hours on end and some days they would wind up literally on the floor in fits of uncontrollable laughter until tears were streaming down their cheeks and they could hardly catch a breath.  It always led to the most soulful love-making and endless hours of being wrapped up in each other arms by the fireplace.  God, she missed that feeling, she only let her heart sink for a second and then quickly pulled herself together as one of the movers approached her car window.  She shut the engine off and opened up her door.  Beautiful day Miss, isn’t it, he said with a grandfather like voice.  He was older with silver hair but incredibly pleasant and Jenna couldn’t help but smile and reply, yes it is; the best day for a move in.

Three hours later all was quiet and Jenna stood in the front foyer and examined her new surroundings.

**********

For 10:00 PM the liquor store was quite busy.  I grabbed my forty of Scotch and decided it would do for now.  I paid the cashier, who brown-bagged it and off I went, stopping for a fuel fill at the gas station and grabbing a carton of smokes.  When I jumped back in my car I thought I caught a glimpse of that pick up again.  It was getting foggy so this time I couldn’t see the plate.  It sped off down the road.

As I slowly rolled back into the Motel parking lot I see the black pick-up parked about six spaces up from mine.  So, whoever it is, I know they are here somewhere inside the Motel.  I shrug it off and make way to my room.  On my short walk someone bumps right into me.

“Oh, so sorry”

I, I am aw hell I’m just a damn clutz that’s what I am, he says.  Right when I was about to reply he runs off around the side of the building.  I follow him but he’s gone, just done, no footprints in the mud, no sounds, just…nothing.  Puzzled I return to my room and dead bolt the door, making sure the blinds and curtains are shut tight.

This Motel isn’t a crap-hole in St. Nowhere It’s a beautiful establishment out I the country with 64 rooms.  Well kept, clean and fresh and well-staffed.  I’ve wanted to put words down on paper tonight but with the curiosity of the black truck and the disappearing clumsy man it was all that was on my mind.  I couldn’t bring myself back to my novel for the life of me.

The phone rings and scares the living shit out of me.  Contemplating on answering, it rings again and again, I grab it.

“Hello”

“You can’t tell anyone”

The line starts crackling and the voice on the other end is a female but I don’t recognize it.  Then click and it goes back to the dial-tone.  Thinking it’s just someone who dialed the wrong number I pour myself a double scotch, pop a Vicodin and I’m gone for the next 8 hours.

**********

Unpacking brings memories:

Saturday morning Jenna woke with a huge smile on her face, ready to tackle the unpacked box items and place them in their new resting places.  Eager to start the day she jumped into a nice hot shower and enjoyed the water pulses on her neck and back.  After getting dressed she went downstairs to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee and heave a small bowl of yogurt and berries for breakfast.  While she sat at the table taking in the sun she reminisced about life when Charles was still alive.

They had met in University when Jenna was studying to become a Forensic Pathologist.  Something she’d wanted since her father was murdered in her fifth year of life.  Her father was a prominent member of the Special Victims Unit in Forks County in North Dakota and was gunned down in broad daylight while on the job.  For Jenna becoming a Forensic Pathologist was essential for her own survival.  At least then she would be able to determine the cause of death and talk for the dead.  This whole avenue of study would teach her how to identify a victim and the time, manner and cause through studies in medical history, evaluating crime scene evidence and performing autopsies to uncover evidence from a body if it existed.  She also made sure to train in Toxicology, firearms/ballistics, Trace evidence, Serology (blood analysis), DNA technology and procedures in evidence collection as well as studies in clinical Forensic Pathology because living patients were just as important to her as the dead.  Charles was a Homicide Detective in Fargo, North Dakota when he to, was killed on the job by a maniac driving a stolen snow-plough he had taken for a joyride at three in the morning during one of the worst winter storms ever experienced.  When they met at the University of North Dakota, Charles had walked right into her knocking her books all over the ground and they just connected instantly.  They were inseparable and waited until after graduating to marry.

Jenna wiped a single tear from her eye and ready to venture out to her first day on the job with the North Dakota FBI Crime Lab.

**********

A writer on the verge of something raw…….

As I open my eyes, the blinding sun has found its way through a small sliver in the curtains and I roll over thinking there’s no way its morning already.  Stretching out, I grab my watch, the hell?! 2:30pm, well it must have been one helluva sleep.  Then I remember the stranger and jump up to peer through the curtains for the truck.  Gone, it figures.

Well it’s too late for breakfast but I need food.  Freshly showered and dressed I grab my keys, hat and sunglasses and head to town.  The chill is brutal today, minus ten and with the sun glistening off the snow-covered ground visibility is slim.  Thank god for my Raybans.  They are worth every bit of the $300.00 I forked out for them.

Pulling into Carla’s Diner was easy, there were only four vehicles in the lot.  I open the door and the bell rings, I laugh to myself waiting to hear a waitress named Flo holler be right with you hun.  But nothing.  There’s an old white sign with chipped paint that reads “seat yourself”.  I pick a table in the front corner so I can people watch, wondering in the back of my mind where the hell that odd guy disappeared to and what was the deal with that truck?

“What can I get for yah hun?” came a sugary voice.  Her name tag read Jenny.

“Banquet Burger and Fires please love”

“Can I get you anything to drink while you wait?”

“Sure, I’ll have a large coke”

“I’ll be right back with your coke, shouldn’t be long for your food, it’s quiet in here today.”

I pull my notebook out and jot down a few thoughts but can’t get my mind off the events of the night before, something just isn’t sitting right with me and for the life of me I can’t figure out what it is that’s got me so wound up about that damn truck.

After a hearty meal I pay my bill, leaving Jenny a healthy tip, I grab the local paper on the way out and head out for a drive further into town.  Just before pulling out of the dinner car park I see the front page heading

“Ninth girl found dead, Police still have no leads“.

**********

to be continued

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Original written work of Gillian A. Gibson Copy Right Protected by the Crimson Vaults 2015

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Descendant of Nightmares: Part I Illfated


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As he walked away from her with his own conjecture he felt the greatest pain in his heart that things would never be the same again.

Her eyes; that look.  Her memory will always remain.  The broken and split part of him that would never properly mend or function correctly again.  The stinging pain in his chest.  The never-ending longing.  If only he had opened his mouth and spoke, if only he had done the right thing.  If only he had remained true and not tempted fate and run off with that Trollope, that lying whore.  Sure the lure of promises of sexual interludes to which only most men dream of sounded like a pleasure park ready to happen at the time but had he known what it would lead to, the destruction and the carnage; the pain, bloodshed and the death, what would be lost; he would never have let the hook land in his mouth in the first place.  But alas like any man lead by his own member he fell for it hook, line and sinker.  The bait cast by a filthy whore and gobbled up by an attention starved ungrateful prick of a spouse.

He didn’t want to leave his wife in that place but there was no other choice.  He couldn’t stop what had to be.  He had brought this on by his own egotistical need for attention.  He loved her still but tides changed with one stupid decision he could never ever take back.

They’ve rules in this institution; no visitations, no one from the outside is to be in contact with her or any other member of these walls.  It would only harm any chance of any of them regaining ordinary rational thoughts again.

Now silence…

Anne sat holding her head between two clenched fists, rocking back and forth.  She just wanted the pain to stop.  Her eyes were shut tight.  No light in, no light out.  The visions would eventually stop or the meds would kick in and take her to a deep slumber.  Either way something had to give.

The light burned straight through to the back of her skull when it entered through her visual windows.  If she kept the shutters closed perhaps the throbbing daggers of pain would decide to leave and take up arms of destruction elsewhere.  I’m sure there is another rounded bone cavity containing the grey matter it loves to feed on just longing for such torture she thought.

She silently wept on the inside of her own mind, Oh, why me, what have I ever done deserve such a malicious assault.

All she’s ever known is love, yet any time she’s offered it the only thing that comes back are just empty words.   Now she’s seeking life back in the darkness, for it holds no bounds, Pain can come out there and be embraced.

Had she only known when she unleashed her rage that so many would die.  So much blood spilled all through the lodge.  When the authorities arrived they found her huddled inside a closet in the upstairs suite, her spouse on the outside of the door trying to convince her everything would be fine again.

Had she not had the instinct to follow him and catch them in the throes of a disgusting display none of this would have ever happened and she would not find herself locked in this place.  The sickly white walls, the constant barrage of old shrivelled nurses popping in and out of her room on a regular basis asking if she was all right.  If she heard it one more time she might scream.

I think the common room is empty now, she heard a voice say.  As she looked up, the searing pain cut through her but this time there was a warming glow that came with it.  As the warmth surrounded her the pain began to subside and she finally met the face behind the voice.  C’mon it’s okay, really, you can trust me.  My name is Meadow and I’m going to help you through this.  I’ve been in this place a long time and have seen many things but I know a thing or two these silly doctors do not.

Anne bit down on her bottom lip praying she didn’t look as shaky as she felt.  She managed to remove her fists from her temples, stand and move toward this splendid being because she found her so very warm and intriguing.  She accepted the invitation to the empty Common Room.  It was a nice change in scenery from the sickly white walls of her small dwelling.

The Common Room was painted bright yellow and there were works of art that decorated the walls.

Tell me what troubles you Anne the splendid one said.  Anne stopped dead in her tracks, Oh, wait a minute!  You’re the new doctor aren’t you?  This is where you tell me to lay back on the couch, relax and let my mind go right?!

No, not at all was the reply that came.  I simply want you to know I’m here for you.  Anne studied Meadow’s face for a moment for a sign.  But nothing, only warmth.  She slowly walked across the room and sat in the big chair, so big that it almost swallowed her, she liked this feeling.  To disappear right now would be a gift in itself.  Anywhere but here she thought to herself.

Meadow started to speak, her voice was raspy but calming at the same time and Anne found this oddly consolatory and felt a sort of solace she had not felt in some time.  They brought me to this place some seven years ago you know, I remember it like it was yesterday.  Believe me I put up an admirable fight, but in the end they stuck a needle in my arm and everything went black.  When I woke they wanted to pick and prod my grey matter to catch sight of what made me tick.  When I say to you that I synchronize with your torment, I do fully understand the unspoken expressions I’ve seen on your face time and time again since your arrival 9 months ago.

Anne sat up straight, shocked at what she just heard.  This whole time she had repressed what brought her here and in an instantaneous acknowledgement of her own memory everything she had blocked came flooding back with blood-curdling velocity to her self-protected grey matter.  The flood of hatred and anger filled her with the irrefutable facts of what she had done.

Meadow saw rage building up inside her and reached out her hand.  Anne immediately recoiled screaming NO, DON’T COME ANY CLOSER!.  Meadow stopped in her course retracting her hand.  She just simply said in a low tone, please allow me, I can teach you how to harness what you feel into something marvellous, but I will need all your trust.  Can you do this for me?

Anne tried to keep her hands from shaking, she glared at Meadow.  If her eyes could have bore a hole straight through a human body they surely would have.  Just as she thought about springing forth tearing out Meadow’s throat a shear feeling of indisputable kinship came over her and halted her every movement.  She froze, a cold feeling came over her as if her boiling blood was being refrigerated as it pumped from her heart and migrated through her veins.  She gradually became tranquil and resolved.  Taking in a long deep-seated inhalation and allowed herself to undergo a metamorphosis in order to allow Meadow the ability to facilitate her with what it was she wanted to enlighten her with.

Now, tell me, how was it that you came to be here in this lovely dwelling of ours.

In the shortest version Meadow, I followed a deep seeded consciousness which steered me into an enlightenment of which I already knew.  This insight caused me to mentally disintegrate and indignation and mania took over my mentality.  My inner corporeal living thing emerged forth and set forth a carnage that can never be taken back or forgiven.

I believe I follow but would you please elaborate for me exactly what it was?

The terse version; I followed my spouse to a place he was having a secret rendezvous at on a regular basis, caught them in an extremely compromising position and went bats in the belfry. I had armed myself nicely with an arsenal of bladed weaponry fit for any warrior.  I spared him although I don’t know why but not before slicing his manhood in twain.  Human hemoglobin of that filthy whore painted the entire room I found them in.  But I didn’t halt there, oh no, I kept the rage ball rolling, out of the room I burst and advanced my grisly self, down the hallway where I lacerated and  obliterated any living breathing thing I came across. By the time I was done I’d left 16 in the out of one’s misery pool and was panting like a rabid wolfen; licking the blood from my arms, hands and fingers in such a way as you would have through me covered in honey sauce from an intense serving of ribs.

When they finally found me I had managed to make my way to an upstairs room and hide in a closet.  HE, had managed to pack himself off and tracked me to the very room I was veiling myself in begging me to come out, saying everything would be okay.  I knew fine well it wouldn’t but I was drifting in and out of consciousness.  When I woke I was here in this place, they managed to keep me sedated until 6 weeks ago.

We have knocked around similar grounds you and I.  How do you think it is I came to be in this lovely establishment so many a moon ago.

Indoctrinate me with this ability to harness what I am Meadow.  How do I become one with who and what I am.

You already own all you need Anne but I will help you to edify what it is you harbour inside you.

I want out of this place Meadow, I cannot tolerate being held here any longer.  I must get out.   I fear I am like a caged animal and the longer I stay here the more I feel what’s inside me ring to escape.

We are going to take this journey together you and I.  We will get to know one another and when the time is right our way out will be revealed.

Stay tuned for Part II

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Original written work of Gillian A. Gibson Copy Right Protected by the Crimson Vaults 2015

Original written work of Gillian A. Gibson Copy Right Protected by the Crimson Vaults 2015

**Click on any Image to redirect to the images webpage/designer where it has been provided.
All images are found using Google Image Search and are not always labelled
I hold no ownership to any image used unless otherwise stated**


Methial the Deceiver


 

Cerberus_Gluttony

Misleading

in your false appearance

Oh, you thought we didn’t know

Deluded

in your credence

Soul-smasher

of the innocent

40009

Death Dealer

Hell Puppet

in denial

sneaking

into unwelcoming pastures

your alter ego

slithers around

SONY DSC

Cloak and Dagger swagger

transparent wretch

serpent of venomous tongue

unpleasant

unwanted wretched stench

Jehan_choo_dantes_inferno_gluttony

once thought

to be a calm guide of wisdom

lost not

just one of the fallen

Disappeared

cast into the abyss

unable

to fathom without malice

succubus_by_antarcticspring-d5835ov

Colossal fracture from the soulless

Angel of Death

not you

deceiver

Sinner

that dwells within

sloth_gluttony_by_alicecarstairs-d60pyfj

not a decent or honest

bone in your body

hell-bound

without morals

minion of insanity

vile demon

polls_incubus_2632_490299_answer_1_xlarge

Malevolent Tormentor

Succubus

it’s the only way they’ll have you

you are truly an

aspect of death.

Return to your tomb

wasted flesh majesty

wallowing in your own stench.

Dantes-inferno-1st-boss-king-minos

I return you

to the tar pits of hell

cast you out

there you dwell

alone

caged in spellbound bindings

I bid you

fare thee well.

the_seventh_circle_of_hell_by_haryarti-d6957sh

B8n9it9IcAALh1H

Protected by the Crimson Vaults 2013

Protected by the Crimson Vaults 2013

 

**Click on any Image to redirect to the images webpage/designer where it has been provided.
All images are found using Google Image Search and are not always labelled
I hold no ownership to any image used unless otherwise stated**


Malicous


society6.com Malicious Art Print

society6.com
Malicious Art Print

Jealousy

that ugly beast

brings rage 

to all who allow it in.

********************

A storm is slowly brewing

over tones and rumors flare

causing concern among the teens

who really are not aware.

Jealousy subdues the weakest

by stronger controlling souls.

A violent dream of revenge is birthing

in a deviant mind so cold.

A sociopath is becoming

which ensnared a bewildered girl

perplexed by inner turmoil

lured in by a child of hell.

Badly wanting to fit in

acceptance is the goal

seeking comfort 

from a vengeful being

with an unforgiving soul.

A volition of trickery

coaxing her into the car.

Driven out into the darkness

now they are taking things to far.

A night of terror

was taking place

Malicious bitch

has taken this

to an unforgiving pace.

Beaten and tortured

repeatedly 

this gang

of malevolent teens

perpetuate their heinous crime

which is now

a brutal murder scene.

Dispose of the crumpled body

before they get found out

out on a country road

casting any doubt.

The girls body is removed

 from the trunk

of the transporting car.

They douse her corpse

in two litres of gasoline

siphoned from the car.

A lit match engulfs the body

still living when it lights up.

Movement

noticed from the fire-pit

the girl is not quite dead

the vengeful one grabs a bat

and bashes in her head.

Relighting the fire to burn the corpse

only one can feel her screaming

caught up

in what should never have been

Her tears are freely streaming.

You know why you’ve been summoned here

the Detective said to them

we all know where you were that night

the girls now feeling fear

death penalty on the table

cause the others to spill the beans.

Spare our lives, we’ll tell you all

it wasn’t our idea.

Confessions come in waves of tears.

Arrests are being made.

A funeral is held 

for the once beautiful

Patricia Adelaide.

Five teenage lives are over

it really is a shame.

Caught up in the maliciousness

that never should have been.

The moral to this fiction

is as plain as it can be.

Teenagers need to stand tall 

against every bully they ever see.

Don’t let something like this ever happen for real.

It’s Time

To…

stand-up-speak-out-stop-bullying

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By the Crimson Vaults 2014

By the Crimson Vaults 2014


Delusional


disillusions_by_pekthong

Cold and dark

heartless

with no remorse

roaring inner surf.

Pain pressing

on the skull

from the inside out

carnal rage.

Blood boiling

temperature rising

seeking

explosive release

Hunting innocence

capturing and confining

bludgeoning death

Stress relief

inner sanctum bursts

inner rage

Someone’s missing

gone in the night

never heard from again

Silent whispers

swirl around

inside a dead and blackened skull

Rinse the blood

from hands of death

evidence down the drain

Buried deep

a body lies

no more screams of pain

Mound of dirt

piled up high

concealing what was done

A rotting corpse

A silent rage

no one knows

what you’ve become

Delusional Soul

delusional-asylum.deviantart.com XXXII by delusional-asylum

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By the Crimson Vaults 2014

Copy Right Protected By the Crimson Vaults 2014

 

 


Night of the Creeper


1404725287_headless-oo

Halloween night, Calvin is padding around in his quarters. restless with a sinister look on his face and mad thought running through his mind.

“I need to get out of here, why do they insist on keeping me in this confine ?”

He lays down back on his bed , both arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling, watching flickers of dust dance around the room.  Suddenly, he jumps up.

“That’s it, I’m going out”

Had he known what was to come, he would have chosen to throw a film into the DVD player and roughed it out in the quiet confine of his cozy quarters.

“Winifred fetch my keys would you?”

No reply

“That’s odd, she always answers in a jiffy when called upon”

Hearing no response he trots down the staircase.  “There’s no lights on, where is everyone?”  Assuming they managed to be invited out for the evening he grabs his keys and steps out into the car park.   “Only one vehicle left for me to drive, I guess it’s going to be the Volvo.”

The roads are dark, foggy and winding not quite what I planned for but what the hell, something is waiting for me this night I know it, waiting for me in the darkness.  These hillsides are steep but I have driven them a thousand times at night before.   The fog however is a new twist, it is thick and leaving a heavy mist on the windshield, he says to himself.

On the way he picks up his girlfriend, Janelle, and they’re headed off to a party about 20 miles away.  She’s looking rather hot tonight, dressed like Elvira, mistress of the Dark.  Her ample bosom is busting forth like it has been inside a confine for far to long.  “She must have squeezed those things in there with duct tape and twine.  That outfit is glued to her like it’s her own skin.  Not really much to my forte but I know my ego will be fed in large sums when the rest of the men at the party are looking at her like a piece of steak, while I know she’s coming home with me.”

The Party was the usual, a bunch of socialites getting drunk and the women insulting each other and the men trying to prove who’s top dog.  After 4 hours Calvin had just about enough and decided that he and Janelle should make their exit.

As they drove down the road there was a massive amount of tension for some reason.  Suddenly a flash of a dark figure appears on the middle of the road and there is a loud screeching of the tires and he loses control of the car, there’s a massive crash through a brick wall , down head over teakettle, Janelle is thrown from the car and Calvin’s face smashes through the windshield.  Then darkness…

*******************

Janelle is awake in hospital battered and bruised but Calvin has suffered massive facial injuries that will need total facial reconstruction and he is now in a coma.

Several weeks later, Calvin finally opens his eyes. The facial reconstruction now done and healing has begun to set in. When the Doctor is called in to check on him they discover that Calvin has lost his memory and he is terrified.  Janelle is right there by his side being completely supportive and trying to help him with his memories.

 After many weeks of recovery and painful therapy he is getting close to coming home. They both lay in his hospital bed looking at old photos and trying to rekindle romantic feelings of a vacation they took to the Cayman Islands.  They make love and memories of crashing waves come over him like a vivid nightmare.  He thinks things may come back to him in time.  He is now optimistic and strong enough to check out of the hospital.

The next morning they leave the hospital and head home to the countryside.  Upon arrival nothing looks familiar and  Calvin is eerily frightened.  As he’s walking through the house with Janelle the phone rings and she stops to answer it.  It’s a friend checking up on your arrival home she says.  “Go ahead and take a look around and see if anything jogs your memory, I’ll be right with you.”  As he continues to walk through the house things are quiet, he comes to a room with a full length mirror.  Flashbacks engulf him into confusion, he panics and smashes the mirror to bits with his walking cane.  Janelle flies into the room and comforts him.  Together they decide to travel to the accident site.

“You know the greatest thing about amnesia?”  What’s that Janelle says.  “After 9 years I get to fall in love with you all over again.”  She smiles and they embrace for what seems like forever.

Some hours later Calvin is rifling through the drawers in his office and comes across some suspicious photos of Janelle with another man.  He quickly hides them back in his drawer without a word to Janelle.  He sits there utterly confused for the longest time trying to put it out of his mind but out of the corner of his eye the dark figure appears and says you must remember and disappears as quickly as it appeared.  Now he thinks he’s lost his mind.  He heads down stairs to Janelle who is in the kitchen preparing dinner and informs him that their best friends are coming round to welcome him home and help him with his memory.

While they all say their hello Calvin can’t help but wonder about the pictures he’d found in his desk drawer but still says nothing to any of the others about them.  Carl insists that Calvin needs to get back to work and find some normal function in his life, “Beside my man, things around the office just haven’t been the same with you gone you know.”

After supper the men go off into the other room and let the women do the tidying up.  Carl tells Calvin that he and Janelle had a massive fight the night of the party and they were talking about splitting up.  Just before the conversation got any further Carl’s wife enter’s the room and says she wants to steal keeper for a minute.  Sure Carl says, I’ll catch up with Janelle and you two can have a chat.  They step outside and head for a walk on the beach.  Carol asks Calvin if he remembers the Hilltop Inn and a man named Jack Winston who drove a red Carmen Gia and does he remember seeing Janelle with Jack.  Calvin stops dead in his tracks, “what do you mean Carol?” Calvin, she says, are you sure that accident was just an accident. Did Janelle fall out of the car or did she jump?  Now Calvin is completely confused.

The next day he takes a quiet trip to the Hilltop Inn to ask about this Jack person.  He meets Manuel at the front desk who recognizes the man in the picture Calvin shows to him and after some coaxing with many bills, Manuel says yes to knowing the man in the picture as one Jack Winston, who frequents the Inn.  After thanking Manuel, Keeper turns to leave and Manuel says Calvin say hello to your beautiful girlfriend for me.  More puzzled then before he walks away and drives back home.

****************

After taking a day off from the office Calvin realizes he’s come across another clue which takes him to a flower shop where he apparently spent $9000.00 to the owner who turns out to be a Private Investigator who he hired prior to the accident to follow Janelle and take pictures of her with this Jack Winston.  Making his concerns about the affair and the accident intensify. He heads over to visit The PI , who recommends he just go home and renew his relationship with Janelle because things are good right now.  But after looking at the pictures Calvin starts experiencing horrible flashbacks that are creating more and more doubt and confusion in his mind.

On his way home he stops at Carol’s, where Carol tells him that Janelle is sick and needs a shrink, not him.  She tells him that this Jack is still around and that Janelle hasn’t told the truth a day in her life, especially since the accident.  Then she puts the moves on Calvin and tells him they were lovers before the accident and wants to make love like old times.  That they were planning to be together.  After he tells Carol that he has no memory of that ever happening Carol freaks and throws him out.

***************

The next day Calvin goes into work and asks Carl to buy him out so he can take some much-needed time off.  Carl agrees.  As he’s packing up the PI shows up and tells him there is no way he could have received the facial injuries he had if he was driving the car and believes that Jack and Janelle arranged it.  He has also discovered that someone sent a fax from Calvin office 5 hours after the accident and that Janelle had discharged herself 2 1/2 hours after she was admitted to hospital. The PI said don’t you see they tried to kill you, what makes you think they won’t try again. After Hearing this Keeper freaked out and trashed his office.

When he got home he pretended to take a nap and over hears the housekeeper tell Janelle that she received a call from Jack.  Janelle almost faints and leaves the house in a hurry.  Rather than take his own car, Calvin borrows the house Calvin’s car and tails Janelle to the Country club near the boat docks and sees Janelle get on old fishing boat.  He follows her down beside the docks and sees her running away crying so he climbs down to where she came from, an old tool hut falling apart, full of water leading to an underground shelter.  When he opens the door he can smell something horrible; death.  All he could make out was rats and an old barrel.  He left even more confused as before.

The next day Calvin made a visit to the PI and finds out that his company owns all that property he was at the day before.

Carol shows up at Calvin’s  and tells him that Jack has contacted Janelle trying to meet up with her and leaves just as quickly as she arrived leaving him standing there stunned.  By now Calvin has had enough he goes over to the PI’s and the wild goose chase begins to find Jack.  The PI intercepts a phone call that Jack is meeting Janelle at the Hillside Inn.  They quickly driver over and stake out the Inn trying to get a glimpse of Jack.  After 20 minutes a red Fiat pulls up to the front doors of the Inn and out gets Jack, the PI starts snapping pictures and suddenly as he arrives, Jack jumps back into the car and peels out of the Inns parking lot.  The two follow him to a dirt road leading into the woods.  Jack fires two shots and takes off.  The chase is on right up until Keeper and the PI crash into a tree.  With their car now no longer driveable they make their long trek out of the woods.  On the way out Calvin decides he’s going to talk to Janelle and find out what went wrong with them.

After finally making it home, Calvin has a long hot shower and made a hot cup of tea.  Just as he was trying to relax Jack’s Fiat pulled up and he enters the house and goes up to the bedroom.  Calvin grabbed a gun from his drawer and snuck up behind Jack.  “Freeze, don’t you move”  Jack pulls of his hood and a wig to reveal , oh my god, Janelle? “What the hell are you doing?”  “Calvin wait, it’s not what you think.  I’ve been covering for you to protect you sweet heart, from your own memory.  Don’t you see someone’s been trying to play a rotten game with us?” she sighs ” Thank god you are destroying that boat property tomorrow, after that we should be fine.”  Calvin suddenly becomes dizzy and drops to the floor, unconscious.  Horrible nightmares…….

As he comes to, the phone rings, it’s Carol ” You have to come over here right now” the phone goes dead.  With his panicked renewed he calls the PI and bolts over to Carol’s.  When he gets there the lights are all out and the door is open as are all the windows in the living room.  Hesitant to enter he enters cautiously and finds Carol on the living room floor in a pool of blood, dead.  In walks the dark figure brandishing a gun, he forces Calvin to sit down and lights a cigarette.  “You and I mate; we’re going for a drive down to your boat property.

When they arrive the dark figure forces Calvin out of the car and down to the damp storage room and over to an old oil drum.  He forces Calvin to remove the lid.  Inside they find the body of a man but when he is forced to lift it he sees his own face on the dead man, drops it and tumbles backward to the ground.  After being smacked to by the dark man he tries to remember….

The dark man yells at him “You Must remember who you are!”

Janelle! Oh god, she was in a horrible fight with him the night of the party.  He had her tied up down here.  “I followed them, she got loose and clubbed him over and over, there was blood everywhere.  She had planed to blame it on me, have me take the fall.  When she came out of that room she knew that I saw what she’d done.  We fought in the car on the way back and it went off the road.  She was driving she jumped out of the car before it crashed through the cement barrier and went down the embankment.”

The dark figure stepped over Keeper, “what else did she do Calvin?”

“She, “Oh god , what has she done?!” “My face, it’s his face!,  Who the hell am I?!”

The tall figure stood before Calvin’s feet.  “Had I not been around to follow you and clean up some of the messes dear brother, you would be a wanted man by the authorities by now.  But I am your night creeper, I hide in the darkness mate and know how to stalk.  I helped you become Calvin; Jack do you see now?, who you are?”

Jack! I’m Jack.

“You know me as the Silent one, they call me Shadow”

stock-photo-8891795-dripping-blood-letters-end

I, CRIMSON QUINESSENCE (artist unknown)

I, CRIMSON QUINESSENCE
(artist unknown)

Protected By the Crimson Vaults 2014

Protected By the Crimson Vaults 2014

**Click on any Image to redirect to the images webpage/designer where it has been provided.
All images are found using Google Image Search and are not always labelled
I hold no ownership to any image used unless otherwise stated**


Corpse


Cemetery by Vickie666

Cemetery by Vickie666

Stop breathing

turn cold

die

heart stops beating

blood stops flowing

cease to be

warmth to chilling

no time to be killing

stand still

no more movement

no more improvement

done

fluid draining

nothing sustaining

motionless

placed in a casket

into the ground

mound of dirt thrust upon you

rotting corpse

decaying

food for worms

cemetery

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Protected By the Crimson Vaults 2014

Protected By the Crimson Vaults 2014