I AM LOST
I am pursued by shadows that hunt,
And surround me at night.
They speak of me in hushed tones.
I feel closed in and I cry….
I want sleep,
To become invisible to the specters.
I just want them to move by me through the fog.
Why must it be so dark?
Why must it be so cold?
If I could only see a light,
Even from the smallest firefly,
I would dodge and weave,
As I follow it to a hopeful peace.
There I would be safe,
in the warmth of His embrace.
The dark is stubborn—
The full moon that fights to help me,
Is strangled by The Nothing.
So I am lost
Without a guiding light to illuminate my way.
I know it is out there waiting for me to find it,
I must find it.
I will find it…
THE FAMILY REMAINS
The dwelling hides in shadows,
A house that was a home.
Once filled with family,
Now abandoned and alone.
Though lives that once filled this place,
Still wander the surrounds.
They prefer to be undisturbed,
So they haunt with sights and sounds.
So trespass only if you dare,
But I suggest that you refrain,
For the only thing you will find
Is the family remains.
Three rowdy men from the bar—
Randle, Jack and Harry—
Pause at the window of
The ancient one is behind the glass,
They call her Witch, they call her Hag,
They laugh at her deformities
And archaic robes of rag.
They’d dance around outside her shop,
Until they’re tired and sore,
Then they would take turns,
Shaking the handle of the door.
Then for a bit more fun,
The door would feel their boot,
The whole time they shouted out,
With a loud and raucous root.
The proprietress never said a word,
For she would bide her time,
She had dark plans for all of them,
And their disrespectful crimes.
One day she met them after at the door,
And said “Come in my humble shack,
Let’s be friends from now on;
I have liquor in the back.”
They gave a nod to each other
And entered like herded sheep,
They drank their fill of refreshment,
And drifted off to sleep.
The next day she had new products
To put upon her racks,
A cornucopia of wonders,
In bottles, wax and sacks.
She made good use of her new friends,
They provided products galore,
Including many sour-scented candles,
To be purchased from her store.
D.L. Dioses is a freelance writer and poet. He has contributed poems to the e-zine, Dark River Press. He was also included in the e-book Tales from the River, Volume 1. He has also been included in two previous editions of The Horror Zine. He attributes his many shades of grey to his childhood fear of the dark and his curiosity of what lie in the shadows. D.L. continues to search for the truth behind the shadows along with the enjoyment of its mysteries. He has come to embrace all the monsters under the bed and the dark behind the door. D.L. enjoys bouncing ideas off of his daughter, writer Ashley Dioses. They share a fondness for words and the macabre. He can be reached at Danndio13@gmail.com.