Grave Images, Vol. I
Annette Martinez
©Copyright 2014 Annette Martinez
ISBN #: 978-0-9826525-4-1
Written by Annette Martinez
©Copyright 2014
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of Annette and Joseph Martinez.
Edited by Laurie Duersch at Twosome Solutions
https://twosomesolutions.com
Page Layout and Cover Design by Design Type Service
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Books By
ANNETTE MARTINEZ
https://www.amazon.com/author/thatwhichfollows
Reviews
By Birdie Tracy
I enjoyed reading this collection of (decidedly dark) poems. Humorous enough to get a few chuckles from adults and creepy enough to keep children’s attention from straying.
They are probably best for kids who are older than 8 or 9 as they might be a tad too scary for little ones.
It would be a fun activity to read a couple selections aloud and then let your kids illustrate them.
By Greg Strandberg
This book has really quick short stories. This would have been an invaluable book to me when I was teaching English in China, and I know a lot of my younger students would have enjoyed it. I think a lot of other people will too!
In this Collection of ghost tales there is a variety of tales for all ages.
That often take on more than one meaning—some to spiritually enlighten and others to amuse or frighten. Also available, Annette’s new series Can Such Things Happen? Vol. I, Short Stories of the Paranormal.
The Sleep Hag
Grandma
The Face in the Wall
Ghost Hunter
The Haunting of Emily
Monkey on my Back
The Bridge
Creature of the Night
Skeletons in the Closet
Shadow People
Troll
Night Creeps
Grave Images
Mummified
Phantom Dog
Old Man McNasty
Monster
Yours or Mine
Dream Catcher
He and She
The Hook
Ghostly Gatherings
One in the Same
The Grays
Magic the Magician
From Out of the Mirror
The Wild Goatman
Unknown Footsteps
Sherman the Determined
The Tree Witch
Not so very long ago
On one stormy night,
A twisted looking figure
Came within sight.
The loud claps of thunder,
As if to wake me on cue,
Seemed to destroy the safe place
I thought I once knew.
A shuffling of feet,
Methodical and slow—
I tried to get away,
But it had some kind of hold.
What had I been looking at?
Did my eyes deceive?
Something my mind just
Couldn’t conceive?
This horrific old crone,
I call the sleep hag,
Sat on my chest
As she pulled and grabbed.
She seems to surface
When I’m feeling weak,
Or in that twilight
Kind of sleep.
Shouting obscenities
In my ear,
And gaining more strength
Because of my fear!
Patches of hair
Missing from her scalp,
And no matter how I tried,
I couldn’t call for help.
It was like a dead carcass
Draped over me.
I was sickened and appalled
At what I could see!
It seemed to last forever,
Until I prayed like never before.
The dead weight then lifted,
And was soon out the door.
I had fought my way out of this,
But never on my own.
When I called upon the Lord,
I was no longer alone.
Lisa was one of many grandchildren
Who played nasty tricks,
And disrespecting Grandma
Was what put her in a fix.
Grandma, much too clever
To put up with such things,
Thought of a strong dose of discipline
And the peace that it would bring.
“Stay out of the basement,”
Grandma began to say,
“It’s never been a safe place
For children to play.
And please don’t look under the
Basement stairs,
For there’s unspeakable evil that
Lurks in there!
And never, ever,
bring a friend,
Because no one has ever
Been seen again.
I was warned about this
And now I’ve warned you,
So be very careful
Of what you decide to do.”
Lisa, always doing the opposite
Of what she’s told,
Mocked and imitated Grandma,
Then showed off by acting bold.
So there went Lisa,
Along with a friend,
Down the creepy staircase
As they slowly descend.
With the light switch not working,
They had flashlights in hand.
Then from the sound of heavy breathing,
They turned and ran.
But they weren’t quick enough—
They were pulled under the stairs,
Trapped by something unseen
And caught in its snare!
It was Grandma
Who baited and set the trap;
She knew curiosity
Would kill the cat.
But what was this unspeakable evil
That was kept out of sight?
Some say it was Grandma
And her huge appetite!
There’s something in the wall
That screams and shouts;
A face emerges as it
Fights to get out!
Its black, hollow eyes,
Like bottomless pits—
As it pushes its way
Through the solid red bricks.
Many thick lines
Imbedded in the skin,
A frightening look
At what lies within.
An expression of malevolence
In its maniacal smile,
Its deep tone whispers,
Disgusting and vial.
An ongoing battle
To keep it at bay,
It will say anything
To get its own way.
It almost got loose once,
Now caught and confined,
Yet still it messes with
My mind.
Its voice often asks
To help it escape,
Not to keep it walled up
In such a dark place.
I thought I buried it
Long ago,
Still it comes through
And won’t let go.
It wasn’t buried
Deep enough,
And now, its mouth
It will not shut.
Doctors’ theories
And their medications,
Believing it comes
From hallucin
ations,
Some speculate whether
It’s possession or psychosis,
Leaving me helpless
With no diagnosis.
Unable to analyze
What some can’t see,
While the face in the wall
Still calls out to me.
“I’m coming for you,”
Is what it said,
“I’m tired of living
Among the dead.
You called me up
And called me out,
But you really provoked me
When you started to shout.
You wanted an answer
And you wanted a name,
Now you’re dealing with something
You can’t explain!
You thought I was harmless
And wanted to play,
And now you want me
To go away.
Thought you had the ability
To make me come and go,
When all along it was
Me in control!
Now every time you turn around,
It seems I’m all you see.
This is the end result
When you tried to challenge me.
Silly little ghost hunters,
If you only knew
That it was I all along
Who was always hunting you!”
Once locked inside the attic
Emily waited to be free.
Now she stands at the window
In hopes one will see,
That she had gone missing
Not so long ago.
Why hadn’t they come looking?
Didn’t they want to know?
Who had been responsible
For all the hurt and pain?
This person Emily trusted
Had been the one to blame.
Her stepmom was the culprit
Who had wanted Emily gone,
Alienating her from the family,
As if she hadn’t belonged.
She lied to Emily’s father,
Saying that Emily had run away,
And that the two of them had argued
And she couldn’t make Emily stay.
But Emily had been lured into the attic
Where she was gagged and tied with rope.
Now fearing the very worse,
She began to give up hope.
Her father reported her missing
While he worried over his daughter,
Unaware that she had been led away
Like a lamb to the slaughter.
She was given no water
Or even food to eat.
She grew weaker and weaker
Till she died in her sleep.
The stepmom disposed of the body
While no one was around,
Thinking no one would suspect
With no evidence to be found.
However, the noises began
That only the stepmom could hear;
The haunting of Emily
Now causing great fear.
In the attic window,
The stepmom started to see
The shadow of a girl
Resembling Emily.
Then she felt a pull
By some invisible force,
And it was only out of fear
That she had felt some remorse.
“It’s time,” a voice said,
“To set us both free.
I’ve been waiting in the attic
For you to join me.”
And that’s where the stepmom was found,
Tied to the same bed,
Screaming that Emily
Had returned from the dead.
Yet how she got tied up
Was the question that remained—
And the haunting of Emily
That had driven her insane!
There’s a monkey on my back
That will not go away,
Though I suppose it’s my fault
Because I feed it every day.
It sits upon my shoulder,
But mostly on my back.
And every now and then
It likes to attack.
It won’t let anything
Come between me and it,
And if anything does,
It will surely throw a fit.
I try to rid myself of monkey,
But it gets me every time.
And since I lack the willpower,
I have no peace of mind.
But one day I got angry,
And said, “Enough is enough!”
I started to get stronger;
I had to get tough!
I stopped feeding monkey
And it tried to break my will,
But the more I resisted,
The less weight I could feel.
Getting back my courage
And overcoming my fear,
Left monkey very weak
As he slowly disappeared.
A monkey on my back
Once had a hold on me.
But I kicked that monkey called habit,
And now I’m truly free.
There’s a gruesome tale
Of old Miss Riggs,
Who was robbed and thrown
Under the bridge.
She’d been seen in the water
Floating face down,
Making a gurgling
Kind of sound.
She emerged drenched,
Her eyes a milky wash,
Reaching for something
She seemed to have lost.
As the story goes,
She was murdered one day,
Her body afloat
And left that way,
By those that witnessed
And left her there—
That wouldn’t help out
And didn’t care.
Though finally buried
And laid to rest,
She returns to the water,
Reliving her death.
There are those who go swimming
Where she was found,
And pulled underwater,
As if to be drowned.
In her watery grave
She often appears,
Her face now upward
In a state of pure fear.
The trauma it caused
By those who witnessed the sight,
Who now are haunted
By sleepless nights.
Her cold wet fingers
On the back of their necks,
And the gurgling sound
That leaves an effect,
For some who had walked
Across the bridge,
And heard the sounds
Of old Miss Riggs.
And if you should sense something,
Or hear a sound,
Get off the bridge
And don’t look down!
The sight of her alone
Will freeze you on the spot;
And when you can’t move,
You’re sure to get caught!
Wet and muddy footprints
On the ground,
Are said to be hers
As she looks all around,
For all those
Who ignore the cries
Of those being hurt
And left to die!
Once upon
A chilling time
When the vampire world
Invaded mine.
Enticed by a kiss—
Then a bite—
And now a creature
Of the night.
Caught in this
Tornado swirl
Of the strange and hidden
Vampire world.
Now immortal,
A nocturnal being,
Going many places
And seeing many things.
The power lies
Within our eyes,
Beckoning those
As we arise,
From out of the coffin,
To capture one’s soul,
Keeps us alive,
And we never grow old.
Friendships and romance
Can no longer be,
For the heart is caged
And can never be free.
The uncontrollable
Craving for blood
Makes one a predator
With no room for love.
The price we pay
Is very extreme,
And isolation
Is all that it brings.
An ageless parasite
That lives in me,
The cycle continues
Like a contagious disease.
Descending upon the living
And quenching one’s thirst,
That endless need for blood
Now becoming a curse.
A sleep so somber
And profound
For those who live
In the underground.
Oh how I miss the sunlight
And my reflection in the mirror.
Those who once loved me
Now feel only fear—
Longing to end
This bloodthirsty madness,
Yet a stake through the heart
Brings fear and sadness.
And so I go on
Living this plight,
For I am a creature
Of the night.
There are skeletons in the closet
That want to come out.
They all have a secret
Of what each one’s about.
Bursting to tell
All that they know,
Yet trapped and confined
With no place to go.
Wanting to expose
And eager to shock,
Waiting to laugh
At those that they mock.
Teeth chattering
With anticipation,
And bones that rattle
from desperation.
Some skeletons are bigger
Than the next,
And which will escape
Is anyone’s bet.
Like nails on a chalkboard
Making one cringe,
This closet door
Becomes unhinged.
How many skeletons