The sputtering smoke of her lamp,
throwing quivering shadows
on the the cold stone walls of her tomb.
But she cannot escape death.
And she cannot embrace the life
she once possessed in daylight.
So, her Gothic heart thunders on,
the crimson lamplight of her soullessness,
merely reveals the shadows of her soul
on the stone floor of her tomb.
There, her footsteps do not echo.
There, her shadow is casted by a creature.
And within her quivering shadows,
her pale hands have become dark claws,
with pointed talons and fingers flared
as if to seize a living, breathing body – who
dares disturbing her eternal restlessness.
But! She wants that unwise soul to enter.
Her tomb is one where the stone walls
themselves expand in breath, though
her body has decayed like fallen leaves,
the reds of her blood long drained,
the yellows of her eyes now black sockets,
the oranges of her sunset now twilight.
However trapped for eternity in insanity,
she remembers what she had in life.
Memories clear, as if the sun shines still,
memories fade, in this dimness of death,
her lone flame pulsates on
and its sputtering smoke her soul
attempting to rise to the heavens,
but encased in stone her tomb is,
there’s no escape for her soul.
Within the decrepit mausoleum of her body,
her beating Gothic heart dreams on…
Dreaming of the thorny vines untangling,
no longer confining her wild heart…
and wild still her heart and spirit is!
Darkly romantic she was,
darkly rich her words were,
darkly elegant in her mannerisms.
With absence of a tongue,
her corpse wanders her tomb aimlessly.
Holding the pulsing light of her heart,
she paces about, without eyes,
her instincts have not decayed.
On she will run her fingers
along the stone, where
her dessicated fingers meet
the robust claws of her shadow.
Somehow, she hopes, she can
cross back over! An unwise,
living body she waits for
to unlock the door to her tomb!
To insert the key into the rusted lock,
unchain the door which weaves
the face of her tomb like vines,
the unwisely brave is arrogant to the darkness lurking behind, lurking within
a body and spirit both decayed…
To be continued…
Superb write, Daniel. Appreciate you.
Damian
The atmospheric density and the haunting dark imagery catch the readers attention with the first words. Your gothic queen is a wonderfully terrifying beauty who makes me want to read more. Brilliant work, Daniel!
Doing a complete rewrite. As I have realized the potential for this story…
What imagery. You have the magic of the pen
Daniel. I was completely pulled in from the first line. Thanks for sharing
Jackie 👍🏻