Grey clouds creep on cold breezes.

Moist flesh embraced frozen lovers.

Electric currents rake gooseflesh armor.

Molten pool encases feet, licking ankles.

Face cradled by hands of bone.

Razor teeth drag swollen lips.

Tornadoes swirl, heating frozen breath.

Blue flames alight in hollow sockets.

Darkness glows frenzied storm.

Anguished moans chorus.

Lightning sears the break.

His corpse falls.

Blood stained tears.

Her wings spread.

Azrael’s passion denied.



I hope this post finds all of my friends and fans doing well. As many of you know, I have been diligently working on my first book, a collection of my darker poetry. Being as you all have been so patient in my downtime to finish it up, I thought I would share a funny little story of what just happened this past weekend.

Friday after a long week at my day job, I finally arrived home. I opened my screen door to go into my home and find a package fall out. As my arms were full, I juggled things around and got in the door. Setting it down on the counter, I saw that it was a package for me from Createspace, which would be the company that prints out the novels and books from my publisher. I think my stomach dropped through my toes when I realized what it was. The proof copy of my book. The final step before any book goes live to the public. It was here. I did the only thing I could think of at the time, I called my best friend and roommate, Benjamin Rogers. The following is a pretty accurate description of the next 30 second phone call.


Ben: “It came didn’t it.”

Me: “I cannot open it ohmygod, it’s here, ohmygod, BEN!!!!!”

Ben: Chuckles, “Congratulations. I’m on my way home.”

Me: “No you don’t understand, it’s here, cannot open it, OH. MY. GOD!”

Ben: “Okay, I will be there shortly, we will take a look at it.”

Me: Squealing now “Gonna faint, gonna scream, gonna pass out, gonna throw up. Ben, OHMYGOD!!!!”

Ben: Smiling, “Beth, breathe.”

Needless to say, I didn’t pass out or throw up. I did scream though. I was shaking so bad I couldn’t open it on my own. Ben did rush home and he watched as I opened it and held a dream that I had never dared dream in my hands for the first time. The smile on his face told me more than words. He saw me everyday in my struggle getting these written, the emotional toll some of them took on me as I put them on paper. He was the one that put them all together and presented them to his publisher, Dr. Pus. In fact, if it were not for Ben, I would not be able to present this to the world. He did all the formatting and helped me with the edits of this.

Now that the weekend has gone by and we have looked through the proof to be sure that I present to you the best possible product, there are a couple changes, so the release will be delayed just a little longer. I want nothing but the best for my fans. Your support and continued following is what keeps me going. I hope to have a release date for you very soon. It should be in March, as well as with my list of appearances. In the meantime, if you go to you will get to see the very first review done on, Poetry From Beyond the Mist, right now.

I want to thank each and every one of you again. I want to thank Ben for all of his hard work and dedication to seeing this through for me. I want to thank my publisher Dr. Pus with the Library of Horror Press. I am humbled by your support and followings. I still cannot believe this is real. If I am dreaming, don’t pinch me, I never want to wake up. Oh my God!

New Year Nightmare

The New Year has rung in, again.  What was once a town crowded with party goer’s is now desolate.  No streamers and glitter, only blood spattered buildings and corpses.  Champagne and perfume replaced with death and horror.  Sitting here on my perch, I remember being here when it was full of life.  Dancing and laughter filled fun, peace on Earth and goodwill towards men.  I snort at the thought.  The moment the ball dropped five years ago and unleashed the undead hoard into the masses, life has been nothing but wars, pillaging, raping, and death.

The ash from my stale cigarette falls to the ground and I rub my eyes with the weariness that never seems to leave my body now.  Her bright face flashes before my eyes as the memory haunts me as if it were just last night.  The beautiful blonde hair flowing around her face, the light snow that fell and trapped in her curls.  The way the lights glinted off it made her already breath taking exquisiteness surreal.  Her eyes were the green color of the sea and her lips were ripe cherries plucked from their tree.  Her laughter was the sound of angel’s wings brushing your heart, stealing your breath in awe.

I had spent months looking for the perfect ring, going to all the major stores, most expensive pieces, but no one had anything that was right for her.  One afternoon I stumbled upon this little shop off to the side of town, no fancy signs or advertising, just a small brown building with writing in the window that said Mama’s Place.  I had never seen it before, but something drove me inside.  There was a couple that was well along in their years who I came to discover were from the old country.  I wound up spending hours with them talking that day, telling them about her.  The man smiled and patted his wife’s hand as he went into a back room.  When he came back he produced a small sea green velvet box, one that almost matched her eyes.  Inside was the most perfect ring I had ever seen.  It was nothing fancy, just a small gold band with three simple stones that were the most clear diamonds I had ever seen.  The man explained it was his great great grandfather’s ring, and had many centuries of true happiness and love behind it.  He told me it was $100, I tried arguing that I couldn’t possibly buy his family heirloom, but his wife would hear none of it.  True happiness comes with no price and no bounds.

That night I had taken my love to town to enjoy the festivities.  We had laughed and danced with the other people filling the streets.  Everything was perfect, I knew the moment was right and I pulled out the ring getting down on my knee to ask her to be my wife.  Tears fell from her eyes as people stood around clapping and cheering when she said yes.  I had picked her up and swung her around kissing her as the ball dropped to ring in the most perfect moment of my life, and when my nightmare began.

Before any of us truly understood what was going on, a mass of undead ripped into the crowds feasting on all the warm bodies.  I had been in so much bliss that I never heard anything until they tore her from my arms and chewed her throat out, spraying me in her warm blood turning me into the icy mess I have become.  How I survived that night when they ripped out her heart and jammed it into their mouths, I still don’t know.  Her terror ridden face as she died reaching for me still tears through me like a million knives that shred me apart.  Somehow though, I am still here, holed up inside of Mama’s Place, the sweet old couple long gone.  When I stumbled in here, they were curled up on the couch in each other’s arms, peaceful and natural.  No one tore out their hearts, they died naturally of old age and love.

I put her ring back into my pocket where it has stayed since that dreadful night.  Spitting out the bad taste in my mouth, I look out the window again at the moon filled night.  There are thousands of them out there, those monsters, roaming the streets in search of flesh and blood.  There really is nothing left for me, but still I fight to survive.  I know I cannot give up, I have to see my angel.

<Back to Short Stories>

Predator and Prey

We meet again, you and I. Eye to eye, toe to toe. I give my best blank stare to match your own. Who’s will shall break first?

You lunge into me, pushing me up against the basement wall. A deadly grin spreads on your lips. Those same lips that had spoken of so much love. Seeing my death in you, I swallow my fear, so it shall be. “Be done with it, “ my voice strong and sure.

Almost seductively you trace my collar bone with your fingertips, and then down my arm. Lacing your fingers with my own, you bring my hand to your lips and kiss it. I blink, bored with the preamble, knowing how much you love the game. I refuse to give in to you.

You place my arm against the wall next to my head as you press your body against mine. Your erection throbs with your excitement. “You know what I want,“ you whisper in my ear. I flinch as sharp pain slices my arm. Turning my head, I see a long blade pinning me to the wall through my forearm. My eyes flash the anger I hold inside, causing you to smile. “Ah, that’s the spirit my pet,” you chuckle.

I take a deep breath and try to keep my arm still. I feel the blood running down my arm. I’ve known you longer than I remember, I know how your game works, I know what you want. My pride will never give it to you. Turning, you grab another blade and slowly push it through the opposite arm. I feel it cut through the muscles and slide between the bones. I manage to swallow my grimace as the pain burns up both arms, trapped against the wall.

You run your fingers through the trail of blood flow and wipe them across my lips, only to lick them clean. I struggle not to express my disgust at your pleasure in this. “You know, you used to enjoy pain, you used to love this game,” you say as you turns back to your collection of instruments.

“Hmmmm, don’t feel like talking pet? Let’s see what we can do about that.” Bending down you shove a blade in through the top of each foot and into the ground. I grind my teeth to not scream at the pain, anger flares through me, I cannot restrain it.

As you pull out a box of matches you say, ”Now let’s see if I can remember where exactly you enjoyed these games.” Lighting a match you hold the flame under my upper arms, the skin burning, causing my eyes to well up. I close them and try to breath and find my happy place. You shove the heel of your hand into my diaphragm, “There will be no centering yourself or happy place for you. You will stay here with me now in this moment.” Anger flares in your eyes, I gasp for breath but manage a weak smile at your one weakness. There is a small flicker of hope that I might be able to win. Your hand shoots to my throat and squeezes, “No my sweet, you will not win, this is my game, my rules, my turn.”

Grabbing the matches you hold one under my bare breast, just so the tip of the flame licks over the skin and across the nipple. Defiant I hold my scream in, but tears run down my face. Stepping forward you lick the tears from my cheeks and groan with pleasure.

Placing your hand on the blade in one arm you twist it, snapping it out of the wall and breaking my bones like twigs. Seeing the red ruin of my arm, the shattered bones sticking out my body begins to tremble. “Come on, scream for me baby,” you croon. I hold my head proud still and glare at you.

I feel things inside my body changing, shifting. Bones melting and reconnecting into each other, the one secret you never knew. The confusion shows on your face and I grin as my body melts downwards, the remaining blades falling out and to the ground. My wounds begin to heal and the bones of my arm snap back into place as my new form takes over.

White fur speckled with black spots breaks out over my body and a growl tears from my throat as I look at you through my new eyes. Stretching my long back my tail swishes as I stand on my four legs and stare at you. “What the…” your words silenced as the predator is now my prey.

<Back to Short Stories>

Lacey IV

Lacey reached the tree panting, struggling to catch her breath.  Still unable to grasp what had just happened, her mind reeled to grasp the full concept of all she had just learned.  She knew her aunt was twisted and took sick pleasure in tormenting people.  But even this was beyond anything she had ever imagined possible.  She dragged her battered body up into the comforting arms of the tree and curled up in a little ball and sobbed.

The high priest began the ceremony in an old language she couldn’t understand.  The horror and shock of what they were attempting to do still reeling in her mind.  Her aunt’s self satisfied grin as she stood next to the priest made her stomach lurch.  A bitter twinge of pride pricked at Lacey’s mind, reminding her in the end her aunt would not win, because Lacey wasn’t a virgin.  The only question that remained would be at what price?

The girls in the circle started chanting low and swaying with the beat that was orchestrated by the priest.  There was a definite magic building in the room, the hair on Lacey’s neck stood on end.  The priest walked towards Lacey to the rhythm of the chant, a silver blade in his hand, Percy’s own grip became painful on her shoulder.  “No worries now my dear, “her aunt crooned from his side,” he needs just a small bit of virgin blood to complete the spell.”

Again Lacey paled.  She wasn’t going to be able to escape her aunt before it was discovered she was not a virgin.  Things were about to get very bad.  The priests hands were dry, almost leathery, as he pulled her hand into his.  The sharp blade sliced her palm, the blood pooled in her hand before the pain registered in her brain.  The priest was delicate as he allowed the blood to run over his blade, the look in his eyes was more disturbing than anything she had ever experienced. 

As the priest walked towards the circle, cupping the blade, she heard a voice in her head, “Be ready.”  At first she thought it was just her knowing the disaster that was about to happen, then Percy’s hand moved a slight breath on her shoulder.  “Be ready Lacey.”  He had not spoken out loud, only to her mind, and it was something he had never done before.  But Percy had always been kind to her, and she knew that whatever was about to happen, he was going to help her. 
As the priest dropped the blood on the edge of the circle and drew the blade outward so it reached her father’s corpse, the spell broke.  It was as if an audible pop happened and everything just fell apart.  Sensing something was wrong, her aunt demanded, “What is wrong, why is my brother not up and walking?!”  She stalked towards the priest, her anger growing, “You told me you would bring him back!” 

The priest turned and with a wave of his hand silenced her aunt.  A heavy silence fell over the room as the priest turned and looked at Lacey, his eyes penetrated her as he brought the blade that still had some of her blood on it, and licked it.  Lacey trembled at the gesture, she saw death in those eyes for the betrayal.  Holding her breath, her aunt broke the silence with a shriek, “You WHORE!”  And all at once things began to move very fast.

The problem with magic is, even if the spell fails, the power will hover, waiting to be used.  It doesn’t care who uses it, it has no feelings, no sense of right or wrong, it just wants to be spent.  The priest and her aunt both bore down on Lacey, using the power to levitate her and the chair up off the ground, forcing Percy back from her.  She was shot across the room and slammed into the wall, the chair shattered, her body tumbled to the ground.  Splinters of the chair pierced the bare flesh of her arms and legs. 

The priest stalked towards Lacey as she tried to get up, and found she was unable to breathe.  It was as if something was being wrapped around her throat and all the air was being cut off.  Her eyes flew open wide and she saw the priest and her aunt’s eyes were glowing a fire red.  The girls had gotten up from the circle and were salivating at the blood.  Everything was closing in fast on her when she heard a guttural sound from across the room.

Percy was glowing a brilliant white color, his body was morphing and growing with the light.  It was so bright it hurt to look at him, but you couldn’t help but stare at the beauty of it.  Percy was almost as tall as the cathedral ceiling in the parlor now and the light was warm and getting brighter.  Lacey realized that she could breathe and everyone’s attention was on Percy as he unfurled the most beautiful wings she had ever seen. 

“Run!” She heard it in her head and hesitated for only a second, she couldn’t leave him here to fight her battle.  But she was only a mortal after all. “RUN!” His voice roared through her head and she didn’t look back as she bolted from the parlor and out the front door.  The sounds of bloodshed and the shrieks of the girls ringing in her ears.  She didn’t stop running until she got to the tree that she had come to, her safe haven for all these years.

Lacey III

Crystal was waiting on her when she walked in the door, the usual scowl on her face that she reserved just for Lacey.  "You’re late."  She said as she stood there waiting for Lacey’s latest excuse.  Lacey had no intention of going pointless rounds with her aunt and brushed past her.  Crystal’s hand shot out, gripping Lacey’s arm with inhuman strength.  "I’m not done with you niece," Lacey bristled at the venom in her aunt’s words.  Just as Percy, one of her aunt’s guards, entered the room, Crystal’s demeanor changed more quick than the blink of an eye.  "I have a special present for you," she purred at Lacey as she pulled her towards the parlor, "Come Percy, you might be useful."

Lacey thought she was numb to all of her aunt’s antics by now, but as they entered the parlor, the sight that assaulted her struck her down to her toes.  The room was lit by hundreds of candles, the furniture moved off to the sides of the room, and the heavy plush rugs rolled back to leave the hardwood floor bare.  Her aunt’s girls were seated in a large circle, blood connecting the spaces between them.  A dark figure was standing on the edge of the circle, his black robes dusting the ground around him, holding a large book that seemed ancient.  Laying in the center of the circle of blood was her father’s decayed corpse.

Her aunts laughter echoed through the room, "Why child, you look as if you might faint, Percy, help the girl have a seat."  Percy looked almost as ill as Lacey, but he did as Crystal bade him.  He took Lacey’s arm and with tenderness led her to the chair and had her sit.  He moved his hand to her shoulder to make it appear as if he were holding her there, but he was trying to lend her some strength. 

Lacey held herself stiff in the chair and regained her composure as she looked her aunt dead in the eyes and said, "Why aunt, I did not know you were getting me a gift, I haven’t gotten anything for you."  Crystal’s eyes gleamed at her rebellious niece, "Oh no my dear niece, this night is all about you, the last of our family who has a pulse." 

Percy’s hand tightened on her shoulder, fearing for Lacey, she was after all only mortal in a brothel full of vampires.  Women vampires no less, with all their jealousy and pettiness.  He detested Crystal, but he had been sold off to her for service.  He had grown fond of Lacey, she was honest and kind to him.  He had watched her since she first came to the house, she had been reserved and quiet.  While she kept to herself, she treated him with kindness and honesty, as if he were another human, not just some monster.

"Let me introduce you to our guest here Lacey," Crystal preened.   "He is a high priest of black arts and has traveled to us from a very long distance just to perform a great service to us in giving you this gift."  Lacey arched her eyebrow at her aunt waiting for her to continue.  "His price was steep, but I assure you, he is worth it." 

Taking the bait, Lacey asked, "What would this service he is to perform for you, and at what price?"  Crystal looked as if she would crow, "Why dear, he is going to bring your father back from the dead, I know how much you adored him."  With a smirk Crystal continued, "And his price is a virgin to return with him to his lands."  Lacey frowned, the last person her aunt would know is a virgin she thought.  As the realization dawned on her who Crystal intended to send with him, Crystal practically jumped up and down with glee.  She hadn’t told anyone that she had made love with Kevin, so of course she would assume that Lacey was a virgin.

Lacey glanced from the priest to her aunt, as if trying to decide which was the lesser of the two evils.  Should she say something now to her aunt, or go with the priest and tell him later?  Her aunt mistook Lacey’s indecision as panic, walked to the priest she said, "Please, let us begin."

Lacey part II

It had been five years since her world had been turned inside out.  She had run to the only other person she knew, her Aunt Crystal’s home on the edge of town.  Covered in her lover’s blood, feet torn wide, and looking like a wild animal broken from her cage, her Aunt’s butler ushered her into the back parlor.  

Crystal never cared much for Lacey; she was too carefree and cheerful for her taste.  Children and women should be seen and not heard.  But it appeared she was the only thing that kept her brother from madness after his wife had died of pneumonia when Lacey was just a year old.  For her brother, she tolerated Lacey as one would tolerate traffic on the cobblestone streets of town.  

Lacey had just turned sixteen the week before that fateful night.  Girls her age were courting and looking for a good husband to settle down with.  But she was the daughter of a poor farmer, and had neither status nor any friends with which to travel in that type of circle.  Kevin was the son of the neighbor’s field hand and they had grown up together playing between the farms; inseparable from the start.  She was always happy and content in her life, never saw herself as less than the apple of her father’s eye, after all, what more did a girl really need? 

Lacey knew she should be grateful to her aunt for taking her in that night and for helping field the authorities when they found the bodies of her Kevin and her father.  She tried since that night to prove to her aunt that she was appreciative for her generosity.  Five long years of service to her aunt, every evening from the moment she woke, until she collapsed in exhaustion the next morning.  Lacey learned much about her aunt’s twisted pleasures, as well as the dark secrets that she had fallen into.  

Crystal allowed Lacey to stay with her, but told her she would have to earn her room just like the other girls.  It was then that she discovered her aunt’s business was entertainment and escorting for the fine gentlemen of the town.  “While you are not pretty enough to be an escort, I am sure that you can be serviceable in other ways to the men.”  Her aunt sneered at her, Lacey paled; tears welled up in her large eyes.  Crystal seemed to enjoy the moment as Lacey started rocking back and forth, shaking her head in denial.  

Stammering, Lacey begged her aunt not to force her into this.  Crystal stood and looked down at Lacey, “You always did think you were so much better than everyone else you ungrateful whelp.”  She spat out, and with a flourish of skirts she turned and went to the door.  She paused, looking back at the girl covered in blood and near broken curled on the parlor floor, and a slow smile curled her painted lips.  “You want a third option dear niece?   Very well, you can become my servant, I suggest you get yourself cleaned up and rested.  You will have a long night ahead of you tonight.”  With a suddenness that was not human, Crystal was gone.