Day: September 11, 2017

Father of Fear – A Vampire Vignette

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Father of Fear

By J. Lynne Moore

Ahhh the smell of home, the old country…how I have longed to be home again…my true home. Romania…it rolls of the tongue, like royal blood slides down the throat.

Yet…nothing is the same, life…death…NOTHING!

They do not fear me anymore. Don’t they know that fear makes the blood sweeter?

They have turned me into a joke, a laughing stock!! They do not FEAR me!! There are toys in my image, they wear fake teeth and dress like fools. The books and movies they make about me are hideous and full of wicked lies. They think I have feelings of love and compassion, little do they know the purest of evil fuels my dead heart. They pretend to be me, they have forgotten who I really am, they have mocked me for long enough!

I will remind them!! I will take back the night and terror will reign again! Their blood will moisten my lips; I will slaughter them, without mercy!! My father will not be the victim of their jokes anymore. I will remind them who the great Count Dracula was and they will fear the House of..Drăculești. AGAIN!!

© 2016 -2017 Cashmere Illusions.blog /J.Lynne Moore All Rights Reserved

Red Dress

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Red Dress

By J. Lynne Moore

Red dress fell,
With a story to tell;
Crumpled and torn,
Last time worn.

Smooth as snake skin,
Caused many a sin.
Went with her smile,
Was just her style.

Rocked the club,
But that’s the rub;
Then came apart,
He stopped her heart.

A red dress fell,
With a story to tell;
Crumpled in the rain,
Red as the stain.

One last trip,
Body bag zip…
Red dress quite…still…
Red…dressed the kill!

© 2016 -2017 Cashmere Illusions.blog /J.Lynne Moore All Rights Reserved

Death Comes

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Death Comes

By J. Lynne Moore

Red lingered on the lip,
A sigh…then one last sip.

Ivory sparkles beneath,
Crimson gums…teeth!

Copper wafting in the air,
Sure to make the nostril flair.

Supper served,
on a porcelain neck.
Sorry, my dear,
there’s no rain check.

Hug the light…if you can;
When fear paints the night cyan.

For shadows flow…oozy ink…
And death comes in a blink!

© 2016 -2017 Cashmere Illusions.blog /J.Lynne Moore All Rights Reserved

Crossing the River

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Crossing the River

By J. Lynne Moore

Slow is the soul,
In want of sleep,
Reckless dreams,
From rest, do keep.

There is no time,
Left on the clock.
Hark do you hear,
The crow of the cock.

Words are twisted,
They make no sense…
Tongue is tied to the,
Barbed wire fence.

Hades awaits,
The wayward soul;
Do you have a sixpence,
To pay the toll?

© 2016 -2017 Cashmere Illusions.blog /J.Lynne Moore All Rights Reserved