The Patterned Tomb


Lattice of bone shape the walls.

Crushed skulls line these halls.

Grinded to dust as they may be.

Break the wrong ones and the evil will be set free.

The bones never stall, nor end.

This isn’t a simple game of pretend.

Every new death creates several new bricks.

They’re somewhat easy to break, but not like stones and sticks.

I swear that these dim halls can talk.

Their spirits are still here; they love to creep and stalk.

Stalk by day, kill by night.

When they touch you, you’ll die from fright.

Goodnight sweet blessed lost souls.

I have lost my battle to the relentless ghouls.


It Was More Fun in Hell

The words the wall spoke words that echoed in ripples through my mind.

‘It was more fun in hell’.

It made me wonder who inhabited this very small rural home out in the mountains.

There were numerous abandoned homes in this side of the country. 

Most of them were ruined and trashed beyond repair, whereas others shined on and seemed to be left untouched by the passing years.

I’ve heard the rumors that spread through town about the kind of people that inhabited these rural homes.

They often ranted about ‘crazies’, ‘satanists’, ‘witchcrafters’, living in the woods.

I’ve heard of all the crazy stories about sacrificial rituals, kidnappings, murders, and rarely- drug trafficking.

I’ve heard it all.

But what I didn’t hear from the town’s folk of which immediately popped into my brain was this:

This home that I myself and three other buddies are standing in has been abandoned for almost half a century, according to the townsfolk.

For the past 14 years, people have been forbidden to go near any of these abandoned home by the police force in this little town.

We had to get permission from the town’s council before we could go in to have a look.

I myself and my three buddies have been exploring abandoned homes around the midwestern states for a school project.

The project is about learning about why places like this home is abandoned and how to SAFELY take on urban exploration.

The thing is, I’m not a big believer in ghosts, witchcraft, or any of the stupid bullshit this town has been spreading about these woods.

But, the thing is. As I am writing down my notes for school, I felt a hand and hot breath towards the top of my neck.

I am the tallest out of my group of friends being above 6 ft and all three of them are outside looking at the exterior of the house….


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