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Short Stories

As Night Falls by Crimson Quintessence


As the night falls, shadows and reflections faintly awaken.  An invitation from the foot of your bed.  It chills your bones without you even realizing it.  You open your eyes to complete darkness as the floorboards creek.  You’re pretty sure someone is there by the sounds coming from the blackest corner of the room.  A door down the hallway slams shut and a scream echoes, but not yours.  You realize that the sound that woke you up is the cry of your child, a child that died nearly ten years ago.  You can hear something breathing in the room.  Your body is completely immobilized.  As your head clears you realize you are hanging upside down, your arm is itching and as you look at it something moves under your skin.  You try to scream but your lips are sewn shut and your muscles start to spasm and twitch.  You are paralyzed with fear as sweat drenches your body but you feel freezing cold.  Just as the darkness tries to swallow you whole you awaken from the dream but you are not at home, you’ve woken up in the dead of night, deep in the forest with no idea of how you got there.



Copy Right Protected by the Crimson Vaults 2016.

Copy Right Protected
by the Crimson Vaults

**Click on any Image to redirect to the images web page/designer where it has been provided.
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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


Copy Right Protected by the Crimson Vaults 2016.

Copy Right Protected
by the Crimson Vaults

**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**

End Game: A Verse-style story


The pictures,


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….


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


the chase is on

catch me if you can

shots fired

I escape….again.



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,


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?


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…




rapid, coming towards me


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,


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.



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,



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”


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.”



Copy Right Protected by the Crimson Vaults 2016.

Copy Right Protected
by the Crimson Vaults

**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**

Angel in the Rain



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.


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.


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


Copy Right Protected by the Crimson Vaults 2016.

Copy Right Protected
by the Crimson Vaults


**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**


Bloody Nightmare for Christmas


‘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”……….



Copy Right Protected by the Crimson Vaults 2015.

Copy Right Protected
by the Crimson Vaults


**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**


The Killing Floor – A Verse Style Story


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


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


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.



Copy Right Protected by the Crimson Vaults 2015.

Copy Right Protected
by the Crimson Vaults

**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**



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.



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**



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.


“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


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**

Descendant of Nightmares: Part I Illfated


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


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**

Another Sleepless Night


Another day done, it’s late, yawning like mad.  Although frustrated and depressed I do my usual bedtime routine and finally put my head on my pillow for a hopeful dreamless nights rest.

Guess Again…….

I toss and turn, blankets on , blankets off, pillow under one knee then both, side – back and  side again, now it’s close to three hours of this shit even though I’m tired as hell my brain decides, yet once again, it does not want to shut down.  No matter how hard I try to relax and put everything out of my mind, it just seems to keep on ticking like a bloody Timex watch.  I swear if the energizer bunny starts parading around my room with his big drum I will not be held responsible for beating him to pieces with my baseball bat.  I sit up look at my bedroom door waiting for him to burst in, as a good pummeling on him will release a lot of anxiety and probably bring on the restful sleep I need after said deed is done.


1..2..3.. nothing,damn.  No little cute fluffy Serta sheep either…..What the hell; I hear they talk, at least I could share a few lame jokes and some conversation until I got bored enough to pass out, right?

Shafted Again…..


Thanks brain, you know your hyper drive sensibility would come in handy for things like coming up with excuses to get out of Jury duty, or ways to convince me that laundry, if left long enough, will move itself to someone else’s house piece by piece over time or even convince me that the dog will walk himself if I give him his own house-key and the garbage will take itself to the bin for pick-up.  I heard it’s easy like that instead of keeping me up for days on end.  Any hoots brain, I must be getting to you because you are starting to throb inside my skullcap.

Nice, now I have Frustration, Depression, insomnia and a headache.  So I get back up again grab my wears for tomorrow to save a trip up two flights of stairs, make my side of the bed and head back down to the living-room to camp out on the couch for the remainder.

What to watch, well, my PVR is 68% full of recorded shows so I’ve got choices — Ghost Adventures Marathon it is.  Brain racing like Hammy Hamster on steroids running his wheel off its pivot points, skull has now formed its own pulse, eyes blurry. What the hell, let’s write about our little insomniac adventure, in the dark, no less, the only light is what is coming from the 60″ TV screen.  This should be fun.  Grab a Dr. Pepper from the fridge, cause I’m a pepper to, light a smoke, off we go.

Great, now that I’ve been sitting here, bent forward writing this in my composition book,while straddling the ottoman, my positioning has now given me a sore tail-bone and pins and needles in both my legs.  Is this shit really happening.  Oh, and the cable box has now decided to shut down for a reboot right in the middle of a good episode of GA.  Fuck sakes, get up, walk around now my ass-cheeks hurt.  It’s now five in the morning.  Normally I would read but I can’t when I have a headache, won’t let me concentrate.  I’m not even sure how I’m writing all this right now.  Guzzle some Dr. Pepper and let out a womanly man-belch, stretch arms up over head and hear, Snap-Crakcle and Pop, who invited those little creatures in here at this hour?  It’s far to early for breakfast cereal.  The dog has taken up the corner of the sectional and is on his back with all fours in the air showing of his tiny man-basket, sound asleep.  How polite of him to go commando this evening.

images (1)

At some point the Sandman is going to show up, the little prick, he can’t avoid me forever.  He’s obviously changed his route, again. I so loath it when he does that without advance notice.   Hopefully he will get here soon or I may be forced to entertain myself and wear a couch cushion as a cowboy hat and pretend the ottoman is a bucking bronco and ride it round the living-room, although my neighbours may think someone is being murdered over here due to the noise it would generate.

You know at this point I’m way over tired and nothing makes sense.

Rosie the prostitute just rode up on her tricycle and asked if I wanted a date.  I’m thinking, you know she’ll look pretty good all bent out of shape with that tricycle as a bow around her mangled torso.  Oh, my bad, it was just the cat knocking something over in the kitchen and watching roll across the floor towards me and annoying the shit out of me.

Clearly, you can now see that a form of fatigued delirium is nesting into my grey matter which means, aw yes, here he is, only six hours late, the Sandman is presently trying to climb in through  the living-room window.  I should have left some of my snap – crackle and pop underneath the sill for him to step on for shits and giggles but at this point I’m done, no more gas in the tank.

Time to let the dream-scape come and take me away.

He ripped me off, little fuck.  The Sandman left icing sugar instead of sleep dust and now my eyes are caked, itchy and as itchy as the Tasmanian Devil whirling wildly through a massive cluster of multiple biting mosquitos .  Well that is just freaking great!

Seven am Wednesday morning, it is Wednesday, right?

I try the Nature Sounds channel, peaceful sounds to lull me off to slumber…. no dice.  Hubby is up for work, the dog just woke up and gang-tackled me to be let out for his morning office meeting and the kid is up, music pounding, as she gets ready for school.  Can teenagers not get ready for school without a plethora of bass pounding into their ear-holes loud enough for the neighbours in the next town to hear.  Hmm, plethora, there is a word and  a half, at some point I will google it to see what it actually means, right now it just sounds good.  PPPLLLEETH-oooorrraaaa…

Where was I?

Sorry, are you still here with me?

Yeah, that happens in my current state.  It’s kind of like giving a kids a toy to play with and then waving a chocolate cupcake in front of their eyes.  OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MINE!!!

Looks around the room, sighs, sees cellphone sitting on the arm of the couch.

Fuck it, grabs phone to check out what’s doing……

*ding goes  chat notification*

Good Morning, very little sleep over here!!!

It’s morning but not good . haven’t slept at all since day before yesterday


And the conversation with my saving grace, my sister from another mother.  We chitty chat chatted til 9:32 am.  She worked her magic and pulled me out of my funk and made me “smile” lots, and not just smile, ear to ear grins and some laughter and a few snorts.  I won’t name her, but she knows who she is.  Right there, when I needed someone the most to yank my ass out of the darkness,  she knew and she was there.  There never has been quite a soul like her ever in my life.  I adore her completely.  She is the Real Deal.

Although it  is 1:26 in the afternoon and I still have not had any sleep what-so-ever, I feel completely energetic just from that one conversation and started my day off with a positive outlook.  I still do not feel tired and as I type this I say Thank You from the bottom of my heart for the one Guardian Angel, who stepped from shadows into my withering light and gave me hope.  This I shall never ever forget.

Always There

Lately, you are there when I am Depressed

or when I am Frustrated

you are there when I am ready to give it all up

to make my clock stop

or when I am Tormented

you are there when I need Balance

you are always so fair

always there

when I need you

you just know

you just show up

out of the blue

that is why

I forever thank  you!!

My friend, My sister at arms.


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

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

Devious Departed


This evening

I will be showing you

my skillful use of underhanded tactics

to achieve

the most odious act

you’ve ever been witness to.

We will get to the unpleasantries soon

I assure you.

It will be quite unpardonable

once sustained by you.

Perhaps I shall take a longer

and less direct path than most.

Let’s ride the roundabout shall we.

The park is dark at night

and won’t be open for months yet.

Are you fearful of rides?

you need not be of this one.

It can be utterly distressing

perhaps a bit traumatic

but the sheer sudden feeling

of excitement and pleasure

will leave us

in a complete emotional state.

Although mine

may be an especially

vague or irrational one.

Showing emotion or sensitivity

is not one of my robust traditions.

Pardon the barbs

they tend to impale

oh, sorry

I mean keep you in place better

rather than

leaving you freely

and less likely

to have you fly off the ride

once the speed picks up.

I can tell you

from taken many rides myself before

the sharp increase in the magnitude

of the thrill will be multiplied by ten.

Here we go

as we start to whirl around quickly.

It will be a brief trip

but the most hair-raising



fearsome ride

you’ve ever become acquainted with.

You did say

you were the bravest of the brave

I mean

after all

you are the Captain of the football team.

You won’t ever let some little tart

ever get the best of you.

You are the king

among all women at school right.

They all desire to be yours

is that not what you tell all your teammates?

Even if you have to take them by force

They won’t fight you off

you are far to strong

They won’t communicate the events of their

carnal abuse to anyone

as no  one would be in the opinion

that they were speaking of the truth.


You’re whimpering

what’s wrong?

It hurts?

Oh my

you’re trying to struggle

don’t do that

the barbs will rip you to pieces.

“I’m sorry!”

Sorry for what?

you silly boy

Oh, I see

you have a rather large gash in your torso

I’m glad

it was pulled apart rather forcefully

Now you know

what those poor innocent girls felt

when you so maliciously

thrust yourself inside them.

Look at that blood flow out

in a delicious rapid plentiful stream.

I am almost lustful with delight.

Another tear

and another


your skin is quite flimsy

for such a brawny lad.

I would have expected more fight

from you.

What’s that you say?

“Please, stop this!”

Dear boy

I can not

you came here

expecting to overtake me

have your way with me

I’m sorry you felt me a target

but you see

I’ve planned this


a very lengthy month

or three.

what’s that you say?

We’re not alone?


I know

this night does need an audience

don’t you think?

all these beautiful girls

have become thread-bare and frayed

due to your actions.

I felt it only fair

they observe your demise.

My, My

your throat

has been lacerated

rather badly.


shall we give a moment of silence?


Jeers of




and Split.

Sorry love,

they’re just not feeling

any deep distress for you.

they are rather bleak

unable to care

You ruined them

for that

you will pay

with your life.

Before your last heartbeat

I will remove your destructive rod of deceit.

With that the blade came down

She held it in the air

The ride stopped.

Devious was Departed.

Bloody wings by Godsaint9

Bloody wings by Godsaint9


By the Crimson Vaults 2014

By the Crimson Vaults 2014

Night of the Creeper


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”


I, CRIMSON QUINESSENCE (artist unknown)

(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**



She waits

 Perched upon a thick wooden bench

 Concealed in darkness

 She knows what she will do to him

Just as clock-work he appears

She memorized his path home

She springs out before him

Stopping him in his tracks

Edging closer, she has her hands on his throat

there’s no time for him to react

He remembers her

Remembers what he did

He will not escape this night

 Raising a strong limb as she bears her blades

They glimmer in the moonlight

Down they come with the force of a thunderous wave

Piercing his flesh

She drags them across his jaw line

 Splitting it wide open

Trickles of blood cascade down his neck

She has a need that cannot be reformed and he knew not to touch

But his arrogance led him to defy such odds and now he must pay

for the horrific wounds he carved upon her dark physique

 She shall split his mid-section in twain

Salivating in servitude of her scars and pain

Clandestine barbarity

Her retribution

That horrible night

 His breath on her neck turned her eyes scarlet red

How dare he think he can touch as if it were his entitlement

This brings iniquitous feelings from the pit of her soul

Her eyes quickly blacken, her blood boils

Detestation rises within her core

She burns in vexation

This night her hands grip his bones as they crackle feeling her odium

 Not certain how long she can contain her inner rampage

 She longs for its release

She needs to strike

Over and over

His sadden eyes sink back into his skull

He releases his bladder as she runs her hand around the back of his neck and grabs hold of his hair

She steps into him and run her nose up his scarlet stained neck

She steps forth and takes in a deep breath

 He smells of whiskey and fear

 She likes this, it is intoxicating

With force she bites, tearing the flesh from his collar-bone

 She hungers and wants to tear out his right kidney

 Her hand quivers in hesitancy but the darkness consumes her and she must

It is done

After his death she sits with a crooked smile, transfixed on his corpse

Trails of blood saturating the ground around him

Proud of herself knowing he will never touch another woman the way he felt he was entitled to touch her again

Her retribution has set her free.



Protected By the Crimson Vaults 2014

Protected By the Crimson Vaults since 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**

It’s a Girls Night Out – Short Story


Yeah, out with the girls for our usual girls night.

You know how it is , drinking, acting silly, checking out the eye candy for the evening and giggling up a storm.  We decide it is way to hot inside the club and head outside for a smoke and we happen to take notice of our sister Carmen was glaring at something across the street in the pitch dark.  She got this expression on her face that is really actually quite difficult to describe.  ( You know how Cujo looked at the woman right before he sprang at her?) She is almost Awestruck, dazed and confused.  I’m looking down the alleyway to see just what it is she so mesmerized with.  All I am able to make out is a tall shadow… hmm has the Slenderman finally come for us?

 OMG!!  I reel backwards tripping over my own heels and land flat on my ass. Rachelle reaches for me and yells “I’m getting us the fuck outta here!”  Carmen reaches out and grabs Rachelle’s arm stopping our fleeing moment dead in its tracks, NO WAIT!!, what the fuck is deal with you chicks?! I want to know who the fuck that is, she says.  I noticed him a short while ago, he’s been lurking and I am kinda wanting to get closer cause I think he’s wearing a mask and its got this glistening to it that I want to touch it.  By the time she wheels us around he’s gone.

 Well that’s just great! she yells.  Might I point out to you, my sisters, that not everything is about you every time we go out!  Hey listen sister mine, We’re up for fun and adventure just as much as the next girl but fuck, what the hell?  Every time we are out with you, you managed to get us into something that either has us posting bail or flashing our boobs at some officer just so we can get back home in one piece without having to pay enormous amounts in fines!!!  

Lest we remind you what happened in August Miss ooh officer I swear I only had one.  Yeah that’s right when you took us from being drunk in a bar to being drunk in public and decided you would take us for a joyride in the cop car.  Rachelle and I want to go frigging shoe shopping tomorrow.  I need a new pair of boots.  Do you have any idea what a good pair costs these days?! Damn! Just as we turn back.. BAM!!!   There he is.

 Holy Fuck! We scream at the same time.   Carmen is  just standing there looking at us like “what?” Oh dear god, he’s a tall mean looking Mo-Fo, but hey at least he dresses well I thought for a sec.  Oh my god; his face!, What is that? It was glistening all right,  Perhaps even dripping.  It looked like someone had peeled back layers and just left it like that.  Rachelle grabs Carmen’s arm and tugs,  Carmen rips her arm away and steps toward the bloody-faced tall dark stranger.  I grab Rachelle and Tracy and pull them away out of his arms reach. Carmen!, I scream, He’s holding an ax, get the hell back!! No, no she says, it’s okay, I ….. I just want to touch it.  She reaches out towards his face.   He raises his bloodied arm in the air and is ready to swing full-bore down at her………..

The last thing I remember hearing is “YOU’RE ALL GOING TO DIE TONIGHT “

images (1)

Protected By the Crimson Vaults 2014

Protected By the Crimson Vaults 2014


Coup de Grâce (Death Blow)

To understand this piece and my writing diversity, please read  PHANTASMA as the prelude.


The Rogue has been let out to roam the wastelands searching for the souls of the damned, the unpleasant and the devious rancid cunts who would unleash their own horrors on the living beautiful souls of our time.

Dare to trod here, oh I invite you in but don’t you even think a moment that you will leave here alive.

Mephistopheles has released me , the Rogue, from his Playground of hell and as I am Famished I Shall feast upon thy retched souls of the four-flushers of the existent plague of nauseating interlopers to the darkness which is my repository of equanimity.

As I roam in the gloaming I oscillate from an imaginary central line of travel to a region that presents a vexatious fetor.   I am a degree of horridness and to the odium of the living I care not.  I advance through shadows and rove the night in search of my quarry.

Off in the breadth of wood lot I can discern the footfalls of one such quiddity.  They sound as though they are overwrought with trepidation.  I salivate in this moment and take in the air around me, feeling it bolster my yearning for the brawn I sustain from that of human flesh.

But this night it is not this particular immortal creature that I covet.  This is one who trails after the being on the sprint through my terra firma, oh she thinks she is slick, believes she can outmaneuver all who traverse his beaten path.  Ha, she’s not ever met the likes of a predator such as I.

 I move stealth in the night’s darkness and refashion my semblance to suite my environs fittingly.  This immortal would be misguided to believe otherwise.

I am headed north with the slightest breeze dusting across my skin.

The aroma of this immortal female, reaper of the light that dwells within;  her prey has been left reeling backwards,  the fear flows straight into my nasal cavity and fills me with an illicit craving that will not be able to restrain.

 Oh don’t you think me a timid entity for I am not.

 I am iniquity and turpitude.

 I am unsightly and reprehensible.

 I am the Fiend who stalks you in the night and lacerates your vital organs from their sheathed coverings and I shall devour them with my razor-sharp jaws of death.

 I know my duties and I am yet so very different from the rest.

 I search for the decay of inhumanity, those who would be looked upon in disgust on this earth.

I sit high crouched upon a thick branch of a hundred year old willow tree, concealed in darkness. I know what I shall do to her as I have not fed in weeks and I possess a need that cannot be reformed.

Her arrogance has led her straight in to into my domain and now she must pay.

My eyes blacken, pure hatred scorches my insides .

Detestation rises within my core and I writhe in vexation.

I’m not certain how long I can contain my inner revulsion;

 I so detest this one.

I long for release.

This one will pay most of all.

She’s lost site of the prey she hunts and I am tracking her movements.  She’s become discombobulated in the pinewood and has lost all direction.  Now, there she stands under my perched local.

 I vault from my setting landing directly in her pathway.  She leaps back and topples to the earth beneath her landing on her back.  I assume a crouching position and loom over her as a colossus fiend with gaping jaws of steel and terror.  She squeals like a swine impaled in a barbed wire fence.

This only fortifies my feverish desideratum for the kill.  I move in close breathing her perspiring flesh; feeling her fear.  She is light-skinned and has blackened hair that sits as a soaked mop atop her head.  Her broad shoulders rather manly in stature are no match to my beastly form.  She tries to move but I pin her shoulders down to the earth and bare my oral blades of  fierce flesh piercing steel.  She squeezes her ocular orbs tight as not to see me.

 I make an aggressive growl with bared teeth and drip my mouth secretions on her lips.  She grimaces and turns her head allowing me to make a quick morsel out of her ear.  It goes down my gullet with ease.  I roll my neck in elation.  She is screaming and it is singing to my inner core.

 I dig my unguis into his shoulder flesh and wrench it from him with attached muscle and veins.  As I lick it from my palm it feels warm and tastes of red wine vinegar.  I crave more as I run my digits down her rancid chest and stop at her abdomen.  She quivers in fear and I arch my back to the night sky baring all my hand spurs and bring them down with force thrusting into her flesh and ripping her open like a side of beef, her intestines spilling to the earth as mound of plated pasta housing the thickest red sauce one has ever laid eyes on.

 Her screaming ceases but she still lives, I drink her blood straight from the gaping hole I’ve just made, bathing my entire face in it.  It is warm and sticky and sickly good.  Her moans are like an internal volcanic eruption of euphoria to my very core.  As my final finishing affliction I seize both the superior and nether wedges of fowe  lie-spuing  jaw and tear her countenance from its station revealing the encephalon salient to my dark orbs.

 I lift it to my ingress, lick it with carnality and then devour it’s entirety.

This one is finished, this rancid cunt who thought she could walk these grounds and lay claim to them.

 I am called home to Mephistopheles Playground to lay hold until I am unleashed once more into the night.

Fear not mere mortals.  I shall requite amongst the living once or thrice more should any more come to this place and try to stake a claim here.



Protected By the Crimson Vaults 2014

Protected By the Crimson Vaults 2014

Once Upon her Death


Black is the night though death will become her.  Crawling through darkness, finding a way to get to her feet through the aid of a nearby tree, she stammered with legs of fragility to try to make passage out of the woods back to the light of the pathway, seeking help from any passers-by.  She scrambled heavily down the near-by embankment.  The rain came down heavily causing dried hills to become pool of thick mud and swelling drifts………

This is the journey of what would become of her splendid beauty.

Isabel Cassy was a striking brunette and stood all of 5 foot 6 inches tall.  She was shy upon first meeting her but over time her playfulness and splendor shone like rays of the sun.

Capricious daughter of quasi plagued merciless descendants, she was dainty in her illustrious days.  Of late her gleam became hindrance; she loathed who they had made her.  Her inner being had become worn and sheltered away from wanting to feel any type of emotion human kind could experience.  She chose the darkness of night over warm rays of sunlight and wandered alone through the shadows of the moon.

On this particular rain filled night she felt a need for some passionless fornication.  To cut free from the ties that bound her and made her feel so unwanted and unloved.

She met him in an enraptured metrical back-beat tavern.  He was an erotic darkness that beckoned her yearning.  She’d been asphyxiating in a passionless union for longer than she’d care to recall, he was all to enticing for her to pass up.  She’d ordered several drinks and was feeling pretty good.

Jonathon Wadham was 6 foot tall with jet black hair and an incredibly muscular build.  He came from the poor squalor side of the village and barely made eye contact with any other who dwelled within.

No utterance amidst them only an epitome of elegance from her sheer exquisiteness and an intrigue of his handsomeness created a seductive enchantment that she could not turn away from.

He approached her with a dead hunger in his eyes she could not turn away from.  She did not move, only gave back the same dead hungered stare to him.  He took her hand and spoke not a word, pulled her close, one hand around her waist, the other on her left side of her neck with his thumb on her jaw line.  It was the longest stare in examination of the eyes anyone had ever known.

What either was searching for must have been clear as before she knew it they were in the darkest corner of this establishment exploring each others touch, running thirsted lips across each facial and neck contour. For a man so strong he lightly licked and bit her collar-bone, running his tongue up her neck to her earlobe.  She quivered with delight and took her right hand and ran it down his chest, across his naval and down his inner thigh and slowly back up again stopping for only a moment at his now swollen throbbing heated love missile. She seductively traced the outline of it with her index finger rounded the tip and down the other side, back up again and back across his naval.  She lightly tugged down the collar of his shirt and ran her tongue across his collar-bone, up the side his neck where she stopped to suck, first lightly then a little harder.  He let out a moan and ran his hand down her firm buttox cheek and squeezed pulling her into his stiffness.  With his other hand he lifted her leg and pressed himself against her and kissed her deeply using his tongue as a lasso pulling her in deeper and deeper.  She lifted her leg higher and pressed herself back into him feeling his swelling and his heat.  She wanted him inside her.  He ran his hand up under her skirt and slipped a digit inside her wet passage and she let out a moan of her own and pushed herself into him so that his digit went deeper inside her.  The kissed even deeper, stronger.  Their breathing became labored and intense.  She glided her hand across his naval and took hold of his heat seeking venomous throbbing python of love squeezed a little and stroked it running her fingers around the top and straight down to the underside providing a light massage to his testicles, then back up again.  The kissing became more heated and light biting ensued with wild tongues.  She unzipped his pants and released his flesh tower from its garment confine as he spun her round and pushed her up against the wall.  Using his own hand he held himself and teased her wet quim with it.  Rubbing and pressing adding a digit here and there.  Before she could take a breath in he thrust himself inside her with burning fiery passion and each thrust took him deeper and deeper inside.  He lifted her up so that both her legs were around him and he pressed her up against the wall and thrust himself deeper and harder.

 She dug her nails into his back and bit into his chest sucking hard as she pulled back.  She thrust her hips wildly and used his shoulders for leverage.  Together the rhythm was synonymous until both reached climax and pushed and pulsed so tight it was almost impossible to breathe.  In those moments she lost herself, forgot who she was and she loved l it.

 In the moments after the kissing was heavy, even while the tucked themselves back to their prospective proper dress and tried to straighten out the wrinkles and fix out-of-place hair, never once letting go of each other.  He raised both her hands up over her head against the wall and pressed into her again kissing her deeply.  The only words spoken by him were done so now, shall we go outside for a walk and cool off?

As they departed the tavern she knew not what would become her eventual end.  They walked a while, then he stopped and turned to face her.  Before she became aware of her surroundings his hand was on her throat.  She struggled for a breath but it was futile.  His grip constricted her every chance of any air making it to her lungs.  Then she felt the wintry steel blade pierce her rib-cage several times and then come across her neck slicing deep.  Immediately she gasped for air.  The enormity of the cavernous openings the blade left spilled out a blanket of her life’s vital fluid on to the muddied soil.  The Monster had struck.  She was dying.

He’d gone, left her there for dead sure she would bleed out quickly.  She struggle to get up to her feet after being thrown to the ground like a rag-doll.  As she pulled every ounce of life and strength left in her she clambered upon an old railroad bed, long abandoned, broken and rusted.  As she tried to continue on, she stumbled to her knees.  Behind her the winds shrieked as they licked her now torn and battered torso.  Every now and again she thought she heard heavy footsteps behind her but when she turned and looked there was nothing to be seen, it was the wind’s mockery messing with her mind.  She managed to crawl to a nearby opening in the thickened wet brush and saw the pathway before her.

One hand touched the wet pavement and she collapsed completely.  The last blood spilled from her body, the last breath taken.  Her last thought was at least they will find my body, thank god it’s all over.

Death became her that night.

by Gillian A. Gibson

Protected By the Crimson Vaults 2014

Protected By the Crimson Vaults since 2014

Through Her Looking Glass

light landscapes nature trees night stars forest scenic bright skyscapes 2525x1566 wallpaper_www.artwallpaperhi.com_94

Carmen was a woman of worth.  She loved to the point her heart bled.  Gave to the point of exhaustion.  Her splendor and beauty was not enough for some but she came to accept it.  She would not compromise who she was.  Her soul was beauty with a light that shone bright as the stars.

She had lived a rough life and had just come to accept she was stuck in a quandary that would never change.  Pain had become part of her every day life.  A wall of stone had built up over time which surrounded her.  It was safe inside here, no-one in and no-one out.  It was a perfect hiding place.  The perfect fortress of solitude.  Inside here none could see what ripped her apart.  She did not have to share, think or feel.

One night when she was feeling lost and alone a stranger who had been silently watching strode up beside while she sat on her favorite park bench staring at the nights sky.

May I sit, he said in the softest of voices.  Intrigued by the kindness and the pure alluring voice she allowed it.  Her curiosity was peaking inside her.  Why would such a stranger show any interest in her?  What did he want from her?  After all, they all want something, they always do.  First the appearance of GIVE; feed the soul what you think it wants, lure it in and dance around inside it, lick it, nurture it, make it feel joyous and fed.  Caress it and hold it close, as long as it does not speak anything but encouragement and love or have an opinion of its own.

Butterfly kisses and Floating Hearts.  Lost in a dream.

 Then, when the thought of contentment is in its existence comes the TAKE.  Pull everything you gave it away.  Ripped from the wave of time.  Gone in the night.  Nothing left but a whisper anything was ever there at all.  Vanished.  The only thing that remains is a slight breeze brushing past her long dress.

Remains of the days passed.

Tonight she decided to take a stroll, one she hadn’t been on in some time.  She’d not allowed herself to do so.  She’d given everything she could, she’d burst forth from her own chest and thrown forth every bit of essence she had to give.  But alas, it was not enough.  Rather than wallow she set forth on a journey.  Taking in the night’s air once again.  Learning how to breathe again.  It felt wonderful.  She met new friends along the way.  Conversational topics that moved and tickled her.  She found beauty in it.  Found delicious mind nuggets that fed and replenished her soul.  She found open hearts and open minds to soothe her battered soul.  They fed her well, gave her strength and told her there was always a place for her, that she will always be needed and loved.  She bathed in this out-pouring of love.  It was real, it was genuine, it was offered right there in front of her to take in and replenish herself.  Men and Women offering her comfort, compliments and love.  Feeding her soul.  Reminding her of her beauty, her sensuality, her honesty and devotion was now craved by others and this made her feel alive.  Some telling her how much she is wanted, desired and needed gave her an electrifying boost.  How much they could offer her if she only let them.  She would never be alone again.  Never left to feel insecure or unwanted.  Her sheer beauty and openness and honesty was loved, adored and wanted.  Her body a temple.  Her mind a whirlwind of adventure and hope.  

She slowly started to realize she was being held perpetually in one place, suffocating and alone.  Trapped in the abyss.  It was not good for her.  For lack of better description she needed to spread her wings and fly.  Visit lands of unknown origin.  Test waters of different times.  She reached deep down within her own essence and found purpose.  There are journeys yet to be had and lands yet to be discovered.  Never hold yourself in once place when you are not appreciated.  Never hold yourself back.  There is tons of love and devotion out there.  Feel it touch your skin.  Let it into your heart.  There are many lessons in life and you will always be in a continuous state of learning.  Take notes for they are of the up-most importance.  Know your worth.  Know your limitations and expectations and adjust and adapt   When one door closes another will open.  Never be afraid to walk through that open door.  You will never know what lies inside until you step over the threshold. 


Protected by the Crimson Vaults 2013

Protected by the Crimson Vaults 2013

The Forbidden One

This incredible vampire scratching at my window begging me to invite it in.  But I know if I do doom awaits me.

How am I going to survive this?

I can’t tell.  It’s a secret.  He’s my secret.

 He is the forbidden one.  Something I am not supposed to have, not supposed to want.

 He entices me, lures me in, keeps me close and then backs off and pushes me away.

 I’m hypnotised by his candor.  His soft-spoken words.  His beautiful eyes.

 I’m picturing his lips running up my neck from my collar-bone.  His hands on my hips drawing me closer and closer to his body.

Do I run to the kitchen and grab the garlic or do I give in to his polite voice and beautiful face and let him take me.  For if I do my fate will be sealed.  Life eternal but a night feeder I will be.  Lost will be the daylight and the warmth of the sun.  New will be the darkness and the fresh scent of blood.  I will live for him and no one else.  I will be his and he will be mine.

The very thought alone guides me closer and closer to my final decision.

Yes!!!  I will invite him inside.  I will give in.  I’m accidentally in love and I want out of this life.  This human life.  I will let him take me.

I will never know what it is to grow old but I can accept that for him I will have to accept that.

The Acceptance:

His beautiful face lets me know it will be alright.

I’m ready.

Take me now my darling.  Take away from this human hell.  I no longer wish to be part of them.

I want to be part of your beautiful soul.

I don’t want my love to go to waste.

Take me to my new life.

Take me with you.

He prepared my body for what was to come.

 I was so incredibly relaxed, lost in his eyes.

His strong arms, one around my waist, one behind the base of my skull.

As he leaned in I could feel his cold breath on my skin.

I gave myself to him completely.

 As he lay me back on the bed.

 His hand running across both breasts so delicately, down the middle between them and across my navel, over my hip to my inner thigh.

So tender, he removed my gown and my panties caressing me with his hands the entire time.  Kissing me tenderly on every inch of my body.  My back arch ready to accept what was to come.

After what seemed like an eternity he was inside me.  To try to explain to you what I felt at that moment would be like having two worlds collide at full tilt.  I didn’t want it to stop.

The movements were slow and deep yet heavy but not hard , well at least not hard to point it hurt me in any way.

And there it was; the last moment.  God did I feel that!!!  Everything went off at once.

As he sank his teeth into my neck a rush of red flashed past my eyes and became all I saw until the darkness came.  But he wasn’t done yet.

He travelled his mouth all the way down to my inner thigh bared his fangs and they burst through my skin like a human would bite into a soft peach.

I felt my blood drain as he sucked hard.

Everything went black…….

And then it was over.

Now came the change……..

The change was agony, horrific, most painful.  I don’t remember much. but I do remember the a pain.

When my transition was complete I felt tranquil yet I craved blood.  Oh my first feed.  I thirst like I have never thirsted before.

I was beautiful, like a goddess only a dark one.

But I needed to feed.

Oh the thirst, it was causing such pain inside me.  Like an internal fire burning me from the inside out.  I had to find someone to feed from and fast………


 Protected by the Crimson Vaults 2013

Copy Right Protected by the Crimson Vaults since 2013

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