Tag: Horror

She is Evil

Her step mother was evil.  She just knew it. The way her eyes narrowed where ever she looked, the way her dark red velvet dress dragged on the ground and the way she would lie about things every day.  Annabel had seen what she had done to her favourite cat. She had to be a witch, or maybe she was just insane? Annabel prayed she was only insane.

Annabel’s father was an extremely wealthy man; she had grown up in a huge mansion looking over a massive lake. The lake was where Annabel’s stepmother drowned her cat.

Annabel’s father was never usually home, he went on endless trips and would leave her alone with her awful step mother. Annabel always got this odd feeling that she was always watching her, as if Annabel knew something she shouldn’t.

One day, Annabel was reading a book in the library, when she heard an awful scream. She froze waiting for another sound, but only silence.  Annabel rose from her chair and looked out into the hallway. There was nothing there, to the untrained eye, but Annabel could sense it, something was very wrong. She looked to the dark wooden floor and there it was a single drop of blood.  Normally a person would not have noticed it, but Annabel was not a normal child.

Annabel crept down the hallway, she had gotten half way down the hall when she heard a groaning. She looked to where it was coming from which was behind a large wooden door that led to her father’s study. She reached out her hand and began to push it open.

There on the floor was the dead body of her maid, and crouching over her was her step mother. Annabel froze in shock. Her step mother not noticing her sat up, Annabel could now see the knife lying beside her and the cut across the neck of the maid. Her stepmother then picked up a cup and held it to the maids neck.  Annabel watched as it slid into down slowly into it. She said some strange words that Annabel couldn’t understand and then she drank it. When she had finished, she glanced to the right and saw Annabel.  Annabel’s eyes widened as she saw her step mother’s wrinkles even out and the grey in her hair disappeared.  She didn’t say a word, an evil smile stretched across her blood stained lips.  Annabel had not noticed that the step mother had picked up the knife and was hiding it behind her back.  Then she attacked….

The Figure

The Figure


I wrote this poem for University a year ago, I was trying to personify depression make it something you could see physically. The figure in this poem is scary, ugly, dark and controlling which is what I feel what depression is.


The Figure

I edge through the scratched door.

There you are in the gloom,

Restlessly waiting for me.

Arms folded, head drooped.

You don’t look up as I enter,

You don’t have to see me.

Your black tangled filthy hair

Dangles on the dusty, dark floor.

Your dirty fingernails are sharp,

As the pool of blood drops down.

The fear is rising in my body,

As time goes reluctantly by.

Your head is slowly rising,

My heart starts to palpitate.

The sound of screaming,

Is ringing in my ears.

All I want is to escape,

But it’s keeping me in my place.

You look dead straight at me,

Your eyes are unblinking, lifeless.

You begin to shakily rise,

Like my presence brings you strength.

Your arm extends out to me,

You want me to join you.

With all my will power,

I step back as far as I can.

Your eyes slightly bulge in surprise,

And you roughly shake your bloody arm.

Your sinister eyes are now angry

As you suddenly grab at me.

Suddenly, I am alone,

I can feel it sinking in.

The figure isn’t real,

It is just in my head.

Yet it controls my life,

Makes me wish I was dead.

Everyone has their demons,

Yet mine seem to stay.