Poems

Individual poems

The Wraiths Bargain

The Wraith’s BargainThe Wraith’s Bargain That night the world fell into darkness,and I fell with it. The cemetery was forgotten by time—broken stones listing like weary soldiers,their inscriptions worn to nothing.Each name a story buried deeperthan the dead beneath. The air hung thick with sorrow,pressed against my chest like shards of glass.Mist coiled between gravestones,a […]

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The Winter Wraith

The Winter WraithThe Winter Wraith In the dead of winter, the village sleptfrozen under a frozen tomb,each cottage sealed in white stillness,time suspended like a held breath. The solstice loomed—that longest night when darkness claims the throne,and the cold bit with sentient fury,as if the earth held them captive in its grip. They said a

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The Trees Remember [Wraith]

The Trees Remember [Wraith]They gave us matching shirts with some corny slogan about giving back to the planet, bright green cotton that clung to sweat and pretense under a washed-out spring sun,The mayor showed up late with a shovel he clearly never used, took photos gripping the handle like it might bite him, smile stretched

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The Valentine’s Day Massacre

The Valentine’s Day MassacreIn Rosewood, where February hangs thick with synthetic roseand every storefront weeps pink crepe paper,Harold Grimsby watches from his window—a man the town forgot, now watching it remember love. Forty-seven years of participation trophies line his shelves,dust-furred witnesses to someone he used to be.Each Valentine’s Day the claws sink deeper,and this year,

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The Silent Wraith

The Silent WraithIn the dim light of my solitary home,silence is never just a pause —it’s a living thing, a presence that breathes,stirs, wraps itself around the wallslike cobwebs murmuring yesteryears. But no silence has ever been this palpable,this deeply chilling. It started on a night so thick with fogthe streetlights drowned in mist,their glow

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The Santa Conspiracy

The Santa ConspiracyUnder a flickering neon sign,Clara Voss hunched over her laptopin a café that reeked of burnt coffeeand forgotten lives. Grimy linoleum. Mismatched chairs.A relic that refused to die.She typed through the clatter,chasing a storythat felt like fallinginto a pit lined with candy canes. The rumors began as whispers —a drunk’s boast at a

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