Thanatic Tomb Waltzer

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Like everything in this realm and many others, there is always a dark side.

The Grave Dancer has a shadow companion, one which she cannot see, feel, or hear.

Her name is Thanatos, the Thanatic Tomb Waltzer. Unlike The Grave Dancer, she died in anger, pain, and sorrow.

Thanatos died down the street from her very own home. A massive pileup happened in the middle of the road, causing six cars to spiral out of control, slamming Thanatos into another building. The wall made of glass gaveway to the force of the car and sank Thanatos into shards of glass and wood. Thanatos was pronounced dead at the scene. Many others passed away from that crash as well.

The two were once biological twins when they were both still alive. Both loved to sing and dance with one another. The two beings exist on different planes of reality, due to the nature of their deaths and the spirits that they hold within.

Like The Grave Dancer, Thanatos was a name given to her.

Thanatos would only be present in places reeking of death and sorrow.

Cemeteries, broken tombs, old decrepid resting places, even unmarked graves.

Thanatos didn’t just dance like The Grave Dancer, she would dance slowly with a gentle waltz, to an uncontrollable wild dance that is forever unknown.

The Grave Dancer would hum, sing, and laugh, whereas Thanatos would cry, scream, and wail.

She was not a kind hearted spirit like The Grave Dancer. She tormented the dead with her screaming and crying. Sometimes she would dance upon the graves, creating more noise than anything else.

For the spirits that tried to stop her, she would send her ravens to chew them out.

She would cackle at the spirits who suffered from her terror. She laughed at spirits who felt endless pain and sorrow. She even would join in if she felt like the situation warranted it.

Despite the fact that The Grave Dancer and her dog are as happy as can be, she still wonders what has happened to her dear sister.

One day… that all changed.

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Falling Gravestones

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First and foremost, I am fake being of existance.

Also, I never truly was alive.

Life is just one big joke.

Life is something that never had existed, and probably never will.

I’ve been dead for so long, I forgot what it means to be alive.

Nothing reminds me of the so called life I once lived.

Go ask the ghosts who roam this field, they can’t remember either.

Ghosts around these parts say that these graves fall for those who have been dead for over a century.

Realistically, I suppose that would be true, except for one small thing….

And my reasoning to this matter is that doesn’t count the marauders who steal, tag, play games, or hold rituals around our graves.

Very few and between have come out of this boneyard alive.

Everyone who comes in will never, ever come out.

See, I know because that is what happened to me when I visited my dead daughter long, long ago…

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Dance of the Undead

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I can’t move but they dance.

I can’t breathe but they dance.

I can’t speak but they dance.

It’s so dark down here but they still dance.

Dancing gracefully, the salsa of the evil dead.

Evil for the sake of letting me suffer.

Each step and swing they make memorizes me.

They are truly beautiful ones.

How can they move so gracefully when they appear to be paper thin?

Bags of bones, dust, and rotted flesh fox trotting under the moon.

They laugh and howl through the grey mists.

They summon ones they only see worthy of their neverending dance.

I’ve been here for nearly 100 years still awaiting my turn.

They move freely and joyfully as I lay here sewn to the velvet casket underground.

Please let me join this dance.

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