Stars: a poem by Chris Hugh

I want to go where the sky is dark

        And turn my face from the heavens

     And read a book by starlight.



I hate poetry.

That last line isn't part of the poem.

This line isn't either.

The last THREE lines are not part of the poem.

           I mean the last four lines.

                Forget it.

Charlotte the Scarlett Harlott: by the Anchorite

Charlotte the Scarlett Harlott

by the Anchorite

Charlotte looked at her reflection. Blood leaked from multiple wounds, her dress was torn to shreds, and her left eye was a gory ruin. She smiled. Sweet success.

As Pale Cadaver's makeup artist she created the elaborate effects for the heavy metal band's live performances, specializing in buckets of blood and gory wounds. Not bad for a beauty school dropout, she thought, as she removed the latex-and-putty patch over her left eye.

The Poet of her Dark Heart

The Poet of her Dark Heart

by the Anchorite

 

 

 

Cadbury Cadsworth chuckled as he read yet another story of the London Butcher, the mysterious serial killer that terrorized the city. The constabulary had no leads on the identity of the brutal murderer so named because he used meat cleavers, carving knives, and other butcher’s tools to coammit his ghastly crimes.

 

Cadsworth took satisfaction in the thought that the clueless authorities would never apprehend him as he ventured on his killing sprees at leisure. He began his path by eliminating his parents. He killed Dad to inherit the Cadsworth estate and he killed Mum for naming him Cadbury.