Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → Morbid Literature

Sorry, just butting in here. If you guys really like morbid and creepy stuff, you should check out H.P. Lovecraft, he might give some good inspiration.

Sorry again, Moat. Glad you didn't make a fuss about it

I've got a poem I might post next week... (when I get back from my nans)

Although, Nicho might be upset about it. I'm not surprised he posted here too :P Poor guy

Sorry, just butting in here. If you guys really like morbid and creepy stuff, you should check out H.P. Lovecraft, he might give some good inspiration.

Sorry again, Moat. Glad you didn't make a fuss about it

Sorry again, Moat. Glad you didn't make a fuss about it

I've got a poem I might post next week... (when I get back from my nans)

Although, Nicho might be upset about it. I'm not surprised he posted here too :P Poor guy

Sorry again, Moat. Glad you didn't make a fuss about it

I've got a poem I might post next week... (when I get back from my nans)

Although, Nicho might be upset about it. I'm not surprised he posted here too :P Poor guy

Umm...jezz?
Triple post or what?

"Yeah, you need five wrist slash scars to get in"
*shows arm*
"Ok you're good to go."

Lol...ok, any new actual stuff to add, people? Oh, yeah, gotta write Night of Morbidity...

Wow. Oh my gosh, sorry for the... Quadruple post?
Hrm...
I can't get a mod to delete it cause I have to go. Would one of you nice guys report my extra posts to a mod please?

Night of Morbidity

I just sit there, on my bed
The voices screaming in my head
I cannot scream, I cannot cry
For all my tears have been cried dry
The scars on my wrists, a silent testament
To how my heart has been torn and bent
It's a night of morbidity
A night to remember
A night of infallibility
As we discover the truth
We could be dismembered
At all the we see's been set loose
And as we're falling
As we're screaming
We fall right
Back into the night
Of the dark and the pain
And lay there, until nothing remains

Wow. Umm, I'm surprised. That turned out better than I thought it would. Anyways, what do you guys/girls think?

"Yeah, you need five wrist slash scars to get in"
*shows arm*
"Ok you're good to go."
*Gives evaluation*
"Okay, you seem pissed enough."
*Lets him in*
And we need darkness evaluations too.
"Hey buddy, is the cup half empty or half full?"
"It is more than half empty. You can see that the air flows right out of the cup and fills the space around, choking us with the emptiness and darkness until we can't breathe..."*guard takes a step back*
"Whoa, ok. This guy's good to go."

The short story that I am about to post is one I wrote a few years ago. I decided it was morbid and creepy and so I decided to share it.

It's called The White Flower

A man was walking through the Wood. He was a poor man, with only two friends. As he was walking he came into a dark glade that he had never seen before. In the center of the glade was a strange stone. It was obviously cut into a square, but its corners were now worn and rounded. As the man got closer, he could discern markings, but they were of a kind he had never seen before. The man however, was not worried about the stone, but of a strange white flower that seemed to have a glow of its own. The flower was sitting perfectly on a little stem, and what seemed to be growing right on top of the stone. The man wanted dearly to pick up the flower, but he was afraid that he might damage it. With a great struggle, the man left the flower, being sure to mark the trail.
The man would return to the flower everyday for several months. He forgot to perform his duties, and even keeping himself clean. He didnât talk to his friends, is only thoughts were about the flower. Soon the man became to think that the flower was talking to him. He would sit with the flower for hours, just talking. One day, when the sun was almost ready to set, the man was arguing with the flower. The flower had asked him to bring his friends, but he didnât want to show the flower to anyone. Reluctantly the man agreed, and he returned to the village.

He led his friends to the glade the next day. One friend, a skinny red-haired man, seemed to be struck with awe; the other had a worried face on. The two friends were led to the stone very slowly and warned not to touch the flower. The red-haired man seemed to not heed these words and rushed up to the flower and pulled it from the stone. The flowerâs light died instantly. The poor man looked at his red-haired man with a furious expression. He picked up a large stone and struck down his red-haired friend. The other man looked on with horror, but the poor man, not wanting to let anyone know that he had committed murder, struck down his other friend.

The poor man picked up the flower from his red-haired friends corpse. Instantly the sky seemed to turn dark red, voices stormed into the poor manâs head. Screaming, he ran madly through the Wood. He didnât worry about the many cuts he was getting from the thick thorns. Soon the man stared seeing things as well. Dark shapes resembling giant hounds were chasing him, snapping at him. Up ahead a wide chasm was blocking the manâs path that not even a deer could leap across. With one final mad scream, the man leaped, and fell.

The people in the village did not hear the screams, or even see the red sky, but after a few days they became to worry about the three missing men. One boy, the son of the red-haired man, decided to search for them. After hours of walking through the Wood, he came across a dark glade. In the center was a strange stone, and on top of the stone was a white flower.

Darkness

Hey guys, I just want to pop in to comment.
Bronze? I read your White Flower story and it creeped me out a little. I liked it! Very well written and it seemed very original to me.
Honestly, it was great!