Shadows will breathe

Shadows will breathe
"Careful. Evil has a way of making friends with the good and dragging them into the darkness." ~ Dr. Al Robbins

Friday, August 18, 2017

Welcome to the Jungle

This looks like a two thumbs up! πŸ‘πŸΌπŸ‘πŸΌ

Wednesday, August 16, 2017

For You...

I love this quote so much.
It's magical.
Thank you, Meagan Spooner.
You are an amazing writer.  

Image found on Pinterest 

Tuesday, August 15, 2017


Always here.
Always there.
Always, always everywhere.

Image found here ~


Monday, August 14, 2017

I Wear You Like a Stitch...

No denying these guys have a great sound.
This is one of my faves from them.
(And those masks are freaky cool.)


Friday, August 11, 2017

My Weekend Read...

from the Night Lights Book Club...

What are you reading, Creepsters?
Share it below in the comments.


Thursday, August 10, 2017

On the Wind...

This short is a cross between a nightmare I had and a daydream I caught.  It's one of my favorites, because it leaves so much for the imagination.  It forces the reader to think it through.

What happened to her?
Why doesn't she have a name?
Is there a chance of escape?
Who, or rather, what did this to her?

Put your imagination on alert, Creepsters, and enjoy the read...

Dead Stare
Nightmare #65:
The wind chime clung to its hook on the side of the small porch.

She could hear its metal pipes knocking together, assuring her that the storm was getting close now.  Its din carried on the wind, through the open window, and to her ear ~ only the right ear.  Her left one was buried in the mattress.

The ceiling fan spun above her; its melodic hum ~ almost calming ~ soothed her, as she lay immobile.  She could feel her heart flutter and her muscles tighten.  Her body shook and grew incredibly cold.  From her mouth, she choked out small puffs of air ~ like an iron huffing steam.

Her eyes, glassy and bloodshot, stared straight ahead.

Whatever had done this to her, walked past her line of vision again.  Its exoskeleton, just inches away, radiated a horrendous stench and her last hope was that it wouldn't be the last thing she had to see.

Just then, the wind chime rang again.

~ by: Deevious ~


Wednesday, August 9, 2017


This premieres tonight, Creepsters.
Anyone watching?
Anyone beside the guy in the Ice Cream truck, that is? πŸ˜‰πŸ˜ˆ

Tuesday, August 8, 2017

Casting Shadows...

"Thin streams of smoke rose from the burning wicks.
The dancing flames cast jiggling, macabre shadows on the walls,
and they were reflected in the staring eyes of the corpse."

~Dean Koontz~

Monday, August 7, 2017

Your Turn...

Okay, Creepsters.  
Most Mondays I post what I'm listening to 
or a song I heard recently 
or music that moves me.
Today, I want to hear from you.
What moves you?
What are you listening to?

Image found here

Share your style and
Post your songs below.


Friday, August 4, 2017


Today's the day, Creepsters.
The Dark Tower is coming to a theater near you.
Anyone interested in this one?
I haven't read the series - yet - so, I think I might be a bit more open-minded with the result of this movie.  It looks fantastic and King gave his okay on it, so I think I gots to put this on my list.  I will, however, avoid the opening rush - and all you Stephen King crazies who'll be first in line πŸ˜‰ - and check it out down the road.

Post your thoughts below...

Thursday, August 3, 2017

All Safe For Now...

Hi Creepsters.
Here is my very first nightmare.  
This is also the opening to a novel I am currently working on.
What are your thoughts on this piece?
I welcome any feedback on my writing.
After all, that is how we learn and grow and progress.
So, feel free to post your comments below.


You Always Remember Your First
Nightmare # 1:  
  I was falling, and for a brief moment flying ~ flying down and down and down towards the light.  The wind picked up behind me and pushed me further, forcing me to lose control and lashing me around at unimaginable speeds.  The air raged against me; my head ached from the pressure and I felt disconnected from it.  I could only compare the fall to the acclaimed Road Runner series, where Wile E. Coyote would topple over a cliff, plunging to his death.  Even the rocky landscape from that cartoon surrounded me; different shades and shapes of rock and rubble encased me, filling my peripheral vision with its distortion.
     Faster and faster I fell.  Faster and faster I plummeted ~ not knowing what awaited me at the bottom, but assuring myself it was not good.  And as if to answer me, a horrendous laugh echoed from the pit below.  And then, came the heat.  In an instance, I was gasping for breath; wiping the sweat that ran into my eyes; and coughing soot from my throat.  I was being thrown to and fro, now heading face first ~ and even through my watering eyes I could see the fire and how quickly I was heading towards it.  But more disturbing than that was the creature that stood among the flames.  I'm sure it was the devil ~ again, in cartoon form ~ with a curved red tail that came to an arrowed point and leathery red skin that glowed like embers in the fire.
     His face, however, was far from animated.  It was charcoal-burnt and still melting, with an oozing eye that was beginning to droop from its socket.  From a hollow hole ~ masquerading as his mouth ~ four tiny snakes wiggled about, their tongues hissing and lapping up the melting skin around his features; and from it erupted another horrific laugh causing my ears to pop and bleed from its boisterous bellow.  He raised one arm above his head and erected a pitchfork, anticipating my landing and all too ready to hook my body and hold me over the flames to toast me to my death ~ like a marshmallow at summer camp.  I pressed frantically with my hands, assuming they would emulate brakes and slow my speed, but to no avail.  I was dangerously close now, my skin beginning to bubble and blister from the heat.  I opened my mouth to scream ~ but how ironic ~ no sound would follow through my voice box.  I could feel my ears were overheating and soon they would burst into flames along with the rest of my body.  Perhaps falling onto that pitchfork would be more humane than going out by fire.
     I squeezed my eyes shut and braced myself for impact.

~~~ I awoke with a jolt.
I was sitting up in bed, sweat pouring from my forehead and down my back.
I was ~ maybe ~ eight years old and safe in my parent's house.

All safe for now.

by: Deevious

(Animated pic is compliments of Wikimedia Commons)

Wednesday, August 2, 2017

August Contest

***This contest is officially closed***
We have a winner. 

Hi Creepsters!
Here's what's on the prize table this month...

This is a great one for August because it was also my pick for the Night Lights Book Club.
Just be the first Creepster to answer the following question about Mr. Mercedes and you win!

What is the name of the retired detective in the novel?
He's also one of the main characters.  :)

Please post your name and answer below... 
and remember to read the Contest Rules before agreeing to participate.  

Tuesday, August 1, 2017

Book Club Business

Hello Creepsters!  
And welcome to the Night Lights Book Club.
My pick for August is from the master of horror, Stephen King.
I am a huge fan of his work (not his biggest fan, for that role has already been taken)
and out of all of his books I decided to start with Mr. Mercedes.  
I am only half way through this novel 
but am already recommending it because it's got a hold on me.
If you've already read it, 
comment your love or angst below.
But please remember this is a No-Spoiler-Zone.
(We can assess and discuss this book without ruining it for our other Creepsters.)
I will - no doubt - update this post when I finish the book and rate it accordingly.

Get your copy here

Watch this book be brought to life in the Mr. Mercedes TV Series.
It premieres on August 9th.


Monday, July 31, 2017

Tales of Mystery and Imagination

I never heard of this album until a week ago.  (Thanks for the info, Matt.)
I've been listening to it and it is quite the tribute to Poe.
Two thumbs up, Alan Parson Project.  Well done.
Any Creepsters out there know this album?


Thursday, July 27, 2017

When There's No One To Help You...

This flash fiction piece is one of the first I posted to this blog.  
I'm very proud of it - not only because it can stand on its own, but also because it led the way to greater stories and paved the way for scarier tales.  
I also favor it because of this line - 
"I don't know how the trouble got it."  
My Gram said that to me once, years and years ago, and for some reason it stuck with me.  
It resonated somewhere in the recesses of my mind and fought its way back to the surface and into this story.  
I hope you enjoy this little narrative of the macabre.
Hit the Like, Love, or Creep button below to let me know what you think.


The amount of blood was impressive.

Roger laid in a fetal position, coughing up clots and trying, with all of his might, to remain brave.  He reached for his cell, pulled it out of his back pocket and slid the unlock icon, seemingly unaware of the massive surge of light it cast into the dark hallway.  His fingers dialed the magic numbers, leaving red smudges across the phone's screen.
It rang four times.

"911. What is your emergency?"

His voice shook out a whisper.  "I don't know how it got in."

"Hello?  Sir?  Speak up.  What is your emergency?"

He spat another clump of blood onto the hardwood floor.  "I don't know... how the...the trouble got in..."

"Sir?  Are you okay?  Is someone in your house?"

"Not someone...something," he choked.

"Sir?  We don't take kindly to pranks-"

"-this isn't a prank," he interrupted.  " me."

"Sir.  Are you hurt?"

He stared at the pool of blood billowing around his body.  In shock, and unable to believe his fate, he tried to speak.  Swallowing hard, Roger cried out, "Oh, God.  I am."

The operator giggled.  "Sir.  God is your only hope right now."

A loud crash boomed from the next room.  A shadow emerged and filled the door frame ~ its silhouette large, ominous and shifting; its eyes were the only feature Roger could make out.  And he tried not to stare into them; into those blanched eyes that burned white hot into his own.

"Please," he spoke to the dark figure, raising his bloodied hand as a feeble move to defend himself.  "Please," he whispered into his cell to the operator on the other end.

"Please," the operator mocked him in a childish tone and chuckled.  "Roger.  Be strong.  This will all be over in another minute."

The cell phone went dead.

Then, the light from its screen shut off.

The pitch blackness was back and all Roger could make out were those eyes.

Those white hot eyes.

And they moved towards him.

He mumbled a half of a prayer, wondering if God would hear him; would even know him.

Those malicious white eyes were level with his own now and he could feel the heat that radiated from them.

A tear slid down his cheek and landed at the corner of his mouth.  He welcomed the salty taste.

Roger closed his own eyes.

He drew one more breath.

by: Deevious

Wednesday, July 26, 2017

Tuesday, July 25, 2017

Secrets to Keep

There are some nightmares that I cannot -I will  not put to paper because they are just too terrifying - too horrific - too evil.  I won't put them into words for fear these would breathe a life into them and they would walk off of the paper and into the world;
  And I would be to blame.
I would be responsible for all that destruction - all that pain - all that blood.


Monday, July 24, 2017

99 Days Away...

It's never too early for some great Halloween ideas...
Follow the link below for 20 different killer makeup opts
that are perfect for a variety of costumes.
#8 is my favorite.
#15 blows my mind.
and #19 makes me cry...out of fear.
Creepsters, which one is your favorite?

Friday, July 21, 2017

What Are You Reading?

Happy Weekend, Creepsters!
And Happy reading...

Find image here

Need some book ideas?
Check out: Evil's Library
Looking for some scary short stories?
Check out these: Nightmares.


Thursday, July 20, 2017

When the Dream Becomes Real...

This story came to me one day while I was driving my car.  I used to pass an old schoolhouse on my way to work.  I'm talking one of those tiny red-brick buildings - smaller than your garage - that you see in rural America.  A structure so distraught with age that it longed for days past.  Every time I would drive past it, I would think about what it looked like inside and if it had deteriorated with age as mush as the exterior?  Were the walls crumbling?  Was the floor peeling? And what had it looked like back in the day?  New? Colorful?  Inviting?  I let those thoughts fester and form until the following characters were created and this story emerged...   


She would've recognized that house anywhere, just as sure as she would her own reflection.
It was the exact two-story building she had seen in her dreams – the faded red-brick casing; the boarded-up windows; even the crumbling gray sidewalk was broken in all the same places.

And just like that feeling in her dream, she knew she shouldn’t be here.

She wasn’t invited.

Or was she?

Was she to believe that this was some sort of coincidence?  That after years of awakening from the same dream she finally became its reality?  That being here, out-of-state and visiting, she just happened to come across a replica of her dream?  No.  This wasn't an accident.  It was a sign.

She had to see it up close and touch it; see what was inside of it.

“Stop the car,” she yelled at her husband.

Startled by the urgency in her voice, Mark slammed on the brakes, throwing the couple forward with a jolt.  A pick-up truck swerved around the car’s rear bumper; its driver laid on the horn, screaming an obscenity out his window.

“What the hell?” Mark barked.

“Pull over, honey,” she ordered.

Mark pulled the car over onto a gravel clearing.  “You can’t do that while I’m driving, Emma. don’t know the area and-”

“Sorry, hon,” she cut him off, grabbed for the door handle, and hopped out of the car.

“Where are you going?” he asked the empty passenger seat.  Killing the engine, he fell in behind her on the crackled sidewalk.  “Emma.  What are we doing here?”

“I just have to see it,” she said.

“See what?” Mark asked.

“This house,” she answered, looking up to him with child-like excitement. “This is the exact house as in my dream.  Remember the one I told you about?  That dream that keeps coming back to me over and over again?”

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, eyeing up the decrepit mass.  "It looks more like a shack than a house."

"Oh, It's identical," she replied.  “It is so crazy how it stands here - right before me - beckoning me to come and visit."

Mark looked at his watch - a watch that he hardly ever wore, except for special occasions like weddings and funerals and - if he remembered to - Sunday mass.  Today, he busted it out for the family wedding.  “We better go, Emma.  Maybe we can stop back here and check it out after the reception.”

“We have to check it out now,” Emma demanded.

“But people are expecting us.  We cannot be late.”

Emma strutted up the chunky sidewalk. “I’ll just be a minute.”

But Mark could tell by her tone - and after ten years of marriage, he knew just about all of her tones by now, and this one said that she’d be more than a minute.  And after a decade with her, he also knew that no amount of arguing was going to make a difference.  Still, he tried.  “Come on, Emma.  It’s getting late.”

Ignoring her husband, she took the three steps up to a wooden door.  As if on cue, a gush of wind whisked through the air, paused to play with her hair and hit against the decaying door.  It pushed it open.

Emma paused, turned around to look at her husband and began to giggle.

In that moment, Mark realized just how she would’ve looked at seven years old.  And he knew that in this one moment, he could never love her more.

She gave him a big, goofy smile and scurried through the open door.

“Don’t go in by yourself,” Mark yelled, running after her.  He took the steps in one bound and grabbed for the door handle, just as it slammed shut behind his wife.  “Emma!” He pounded his fist against the door.  “Emma!”  His voice was strained.  “Open up!”

Inside, she couldn’t hear a thing.  She didn’t hear the door slam behind her or the rustle that came from the upstairs bedroom.  To her, there was only an awkward silence.  A hush so quiet it was deafening.

The empty room she stood in was spacious.  Her feet met a hardwood floor, brittle with age and covered with a thick layer of dust and grime.  Yellow,  peeling wallpaper hugged most of the room and the only light was a single beam that shone in through the boarded window on the far left wall. A dilapidated staircase hung on the opposite wall, most of the steps rotted away and looking like sink holes.  The banister was overrun with glossy spider webs.  The place looked to be hours away from caving in on itself.

Emma stood in awe.

“So beautiful,” she breathed out, unaware of the decaying mess about her.  All she could see was a house well kept; a sitting room fully decorated with glass tables and an antique hutch, lush brown carpeting and posh furniture, thick gold-encrusted curtains, and a dangling chandelier that cast the most beautiful shadows about the white walls, like the way a diamond ring catches the afternoon sun.

For a brief moment, Emma was at peace, admiring the house and all of its charm that she had so often visited in her dreams - unable to believe the good fortune she had to stumble upon it.  But her respect for the place was fleeting.

In the next moment, she stumbled about the room like a drunk, trying to keep herself from falling over.  She caught herself on the sofa, but it disappeared.  She fell to the floor, smashing hard against the splintered wood.  It was if she was being thrown about by some invisible force.  
Next, she was gathered up and tossed against the front door she had just entered.  She gripped the handle for support, but it wouldn’t be enough.  She was strewn again and ended up near the staircase, her head hitting off the banister; her hair now adorned with those silver webs.

“What the hell?” she mumbled, the blow to the head finally jolting her out of her daydream.  She stared about the room with what seemed to be a new set of eyes, now aware of its decay.  She forced herself up and scrambled for the door.  

She needed to get out.
She needed Mark.  

The feeling of immediate danger swelled up in her throat like the thirst for water.  She knew she had to get out of this place.

As she fumbled with the doorknob, a sharp pain grabbed hold of her.  It was like someone took a screwdriver and lodged it right up under her jawline.  Emma screamed out.  She could hear a faint knock on the opposite side of the door, and wondered for a brief moment if it was Mark; if he would be able to save her; if they really were going to miss that wedding reception.  She would give anything for a stiff whiskey sour right about now.

Emma screamed out again as another invisible jab hit her neck.  Her knees buckled.

The pain was excruciating and overtook her body, just like a seizure.  What started out as a dull ache - like a tooth festered with infection - grew, spreading throughout her body like a warm heat, intensifying with each passing second.  Emma writhed in pain, smacking the back of her head against the door, pounding her fist into the rotting floor boards and releasing a howl, like that of a wild coyote.  It was as if she was being slaughtered from the inside out.  A deep cry erupted from her diaphragm as a mix of saliva and blood slid out of her mouth and dribbled onto her chin.

The pain was unbearable.

She finally understood why some people would welcome the end; why some people overdosed on pain medication; why some craved death over life. 

Everything was happening too fast and it was too much for her body to take.  She wished for the reaper to come for her.  She wished for it all to be over.

Actually begged for it. 

Begged for relief.

Begged for death just like some would beg for life.

And - as if reading her mind - a rustle from the staircase roused her attention.

She looked up and beheld the most frightening creature that any horror movie could ever conjure up.  A shadowy figure that was made up of raw meat, dead body parts and lost souls began its decent down the stairs - its gaze never wavering from Emma’s.  Its skeletal face housed the most wicked smirk.  Empty black holes that masqueraded as eyes looked down upon her.   The figure moaned a deep, endless wail, as it glided towards her.

Emma whimpered with fear.  A small pang of desire arose within her; an instinct to live.  She mustered up all of her energy and fear and bundled them into strength.  She grasped at the doorknob again, her one last attempt at life. 

It wouldn’t budge. 

The creature made its way closer and closer; an awful stench - like a mix of urine and fish - radiated from its form. 

Emma screamed out again. 

And again 

And again.

Outside, Mark was screaming back at her.  His fists bloodied to a pulp, trying to beat down that rickety wooden door that wouldn’t budge.  “Emma!” he cried out.  “Emma, baby, just open the door. Please.  Just open the door...”

The End

written by: Deevious

Tuesday, July 18, 2017

A Basket Full of Darkness...

I love this artwork by the talented and legendary artist, Fred Einaudi.  
I would love to have this piece hang in my house.  
It would definitely motivate me to do more housework...or laundry...or evil doings.

Image, info and artist, Fred Einaudi found here

Monday, July 17, 2017

Book Club Business

Have you seen this month's pick for the Night Lights Book Club?
Here it is again, just in case you missed it the first time around...

It captured my attention in the book store (thanks for the nudge, Kim) and it captivated me from the first word until its last. 
They have recently made this into a movie so you can always check that out too.
Let me know what you think of M.R.Carey's novel by sharing your thoughts and comments below.

Thanks for the pick, Kim.
You were so right about this one.

My rating for this masterpiece?  It is nothing short of = πŸ–€πŸ–€πŸ–€πŸ–€πŸ–€ 


Friday, July 14, 2017

Beach Scares?

I stumbled upon this great article and thought you'd like it too.
This is for all my Creespters out there who are beach bound this summer.

(*That Jack Skellington bathing suit is spooktacular!)

Thursday, July 13, 2017


 A true classic never goes out of style...

Wednesday, July 12, 2017

Night Lights Book Club Pick

Because I am spending so much of my time writing these days (novels take focus) this month's pick for the Night Lights Book Club is only now coming at ya.  It's a good one though.  Nope.  It's a GREAT one.  The Girl With All The Gifts by M. R. Carey is my July pick.  It captured my attention in the book store (thanks for the nudge, Kim) and it captivated me from the first word until its last. They have recently made this into a movie so you can always check that out too.
Let me know what you think of M.R.Carey's novel by sharing your thoughts and comments below.

Tuesday, July 11, 2017

The Dark Side

Lost in the darkness
Saved by the light 
Hold on to your madness
With all your might

Find image on

Sometimes it's all you have left.

Monday, July 10, 2017

POLAROID - Official Trailer

I think this might be one of the good ones, Creepsters.
(Well, actually, one of the evil ones.)
Not to wish the summer away,  but I am really looking forward to checking this movie out at the end of August.
Keep your eye out for this one...

Friday, July 7, 2017

Strange and Talented

Spending my days writing, In my head and on paper.
I have to get the words out...
I have to get them right...


Thursday, July 6, 2017

Wednesday, July 5, 2017

Dual Contest

***This contest is officially closed***
This contest has run its course without a winner. 

So, the month of June kind of got away from me and before I realized it, July sneaked in.  
Today, I am combining two contests into one, 
which works out perfectly because the books in our contest are part of the same thread.  

Book one, entitled YOU
is a twisted tale that also just happens to be my pick for next month's Book Club.  
After you read it, you'll want to dive right into Hidden Bodies, which is the sequel.  
So, Creepsters, want to win them?
Be the first to post below the author of these books and they are yours...


And as always, please read the Contest Rules before participating.

Monday, July 3, 2017


When you hear that one song that you didn't want to hear...

Find image on Whisper

Wednesday, June 28, 2017

For Kim

I wrote this for my sister.
She was always such a fan of my writing, and although she didn't always understand the darkness behind it, she fully supported me and encouraged me to continue with this gift.
Thank you, Kim.
Thank you for the love.
I pushed the darkness aside for a moment.
This one's for you....

Angel of the Skies

I know you've got your angel wings
And you're flying around doing angel things
Ushering in everything the day brings...

But I miss you.

Image found here

I know you're up there in that night sky,
With your twinkle and your sparkle and a watchful eye
Pulling the shade down and raising that moon up high...

But I miss you.

Find image here

I know you're all around me, I can smell you upon the breeze;
And I know you still speak to me, because I hear your whisper through the trees;
And I can feel your love raging up a storm and like the rain, it puts me at ease...

But I miss you.

Image is from the amazing and talented  Shawna Erback

       You are my sun and my moon and my stars.

Angel of the Skies (Part One, Two and Three) ~  composed by Deevious.

Tuesday, June 27, 2017

Why I Write

The Shadows have stories.
I give them a voice.

~ Deevious ~

Monday, June 26, 2017

Wish I Knew You

I have been listening to this one for a few weeks now.
I never tire of it.
Take a listen?


Friday, June 23, 2017

Of Two Worlds...

Such a great quote.
Such poetry.
I love this one.

Find this on Instagram

Thursday, June 22, 2017

Angel of the Skies (Part Three)

I know you're all around me, I can smell you upon the breeze;
And I know you still speak to me, because I hear your whisper through the trees;
And I can feel your love raging up a storm and like the rain, it puts me at ease.

But I miss you...

Image is from the amazing and talented  Shawna Erback

You are my sun and my moon and my stars.

Angel of the Skies (Part One, Two and Three) ~  composed by Deevious.
- 2017 -

Wednesday, June 21, 2017

Angel of the Skies (Part Two)

I know you're up there in that night sky,
With your twinkle and your sparkle and a watchful eye
Pulling the shade down and raising that moon up high.

But I miss you...

Find image here

Tuesday, June 20, 2017

Angel of the Skies (Part One)

I know you've got your angel wings
And you're flying around doing angel things
Ushering in everything the day brings...

But I miss you.

Image found here

Monday, June 19, 2017

Exit Light

Move over #MusicMonday...

Image found on Pinterest
....It's a #MetalliaMonday 😈

Share your favorite Metallica song in the comments below.


Friday, June 16, 2017

The Fire Pit from Hell...

Pinterest, of course, has all the best of everything.
I find so many innovative ideas and amazing creations and unique artwork on this site that has been pinned and shared by so many of us. 
And here is just one more example of its awesomeness...


I stumbled upon these skull accessories and thought some of my Creepsters out there might have to have these. 
Get yours here ~


Thursday, June 15, 2017


I fell in love with this quote and posted it to my Facebook page last week.
I thought you might like it too.
If only it was that easy to tame our demons, eh?

Image found at 


Wednesday, June 14, 2017

Travel Carefully....

With summer vacations in full swing, I thought this article could help you with your travels.
Some of these places have been restricted to visitors, but not all.  I, myself, visited Gettysburg and its battlefields just last year.  This article states that tourism is restricted there, but that isn't true.  It is encouraged and celebrated.  So, always call ahead when making reservations or plans, just to be sure of what you're allowed to see and visit.  Not all articles are accurate, but I did enjoy this list and it allowed me to do further research on each of the places listed.
Have any of my Creepsters out there checked any of these off your bucket list?
Are there any on the list that you would love to visit?  Investigate?  Move to?

Tuesday, June 13, 2017


I am a little of both worlds.
Who are you?

Image found here

Monday, June 12, 2017

Silent Lucidity

There's a place I like to hide
A doorway that I run to in the night..


Friday, June 9, 2017


I am torn between two worlds...
One is bathed in Light and One thrives in Darkness.
~ Deevious ~

Thursday, June 8, 2017

Wednesday, June 7, 2017

Hungry for Change?


Is it?
I'm not sure if this truly fits my label of Verity or Bullshit? 
but I am so enamored by this quote that I had to throw it out there for discussion.
Perhaps every day we exist is progress.
Perhaps what we eat or choose not to is as well.
Maybe some sophistication never hurt anyone.
Post your thoughts and comments below -  no matter how bizarre.
This is a strange one, so embrace it.


Tuesday, June 6, 2017

Book Club Business

For June, I have chosen this gem by Iain Reid.
It is his debut novel and is extremely well done.
It will intrigue you and scare you and scar you.
Expect it to leave an impression.

Enjoy this month's read and let me know what you think in the comments below.

Just an after thought...
Please DO NOT leave any spoilers for those who may stumble upon this post 
who haven't yet read the book.  
Be kind and don't ruin the darkness for any of our other Creepsters out there. 
If you need to chat it up about this one, 
message me on my Facebook Page 
or email me at 
and we can dish it out there. 

I appreciate it, Creepsters.


Need the book?
Buy it new or used or in other formats here: Barnes and Noble

Monday, June 5, 2017

Chasing Down the Devil...

A little upbeat for the day, but I cannot stop jamming to this one.
I like these guys.
I like their sound.
I like their lyrics and I am hooked.
This is my #MusicMonday...