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Poetry of the Undead, Maddened Soul


Ten years ago, two years into my writing of what would become Bloodlink, I was very much into playing online games. One in particular game I played had a vampire theme. We joined a group called a coven and we used group chat feature to ask for help to get resource to strengthen the cities we built or defend from enemy

covens, create story lines for our group, and just chat in general.


One night, I was rather bored and after asking if anyone was on several times in the chat and getting no response, I started to write a poem of sorts. Each line was sent individually. I figured it was a good way of telling others I was available if they needed me. Several members came online when I was writing, but they just let me keep writing until I couldn't think of another line.


I realized shortly after that while Morsa had been a character in the Bloodlink storyline from the start, that this was my first real look into her mind. And I wrote it sitting alone, in the dark, speaking into the nothingness and unsure of anyone could hear. I imagine she did a lot of that while caged up in her attic room.


Since that time in chat, I have never shown it to anyone, but I think it might interest some of you now. Enjoy!


Morsa's Original Poem / Spring 2012 the cold moon rises

and there a scream of terror in my heart

I am alone

I am hunted and wanted nowhere

my blood runs chill

death has overtaken me

it has consumed me

twisting me inside

black death overshadows everything I see

life is brittle

Humanity is weak

they will all fall

they will all die

I will not be ruled by their weak flesh

their weak blood

My time has come

A world shrouded in night

My eternal pleasure

The bloom of all that is

all that was

Deeper I sink

Slowly rotting at my core

Purified by sweet blood

sweet tastes

sweet venom of mine

Death is my waking

Death is my sleeping

Soothing mentor speak to me

Sing me praises

Sing me sweet wickedness

Light is a demon to be played with

A devil in the eyes that hunt me

Come hunters, come children small

come with spears, knives, guns and all

I am watching

I am waiting

I am the predator to be preyed

Sweet seduction, where am I

seducer my playmate

friend and foe

alike, and true to my form

scatter pieces, shatter wind, rain and snow

heat the ground, start the spark

burn my friend

I will watch and smile

Rotting tormentor, friend to me

Come closer, closer

and I will kill thee

Wicked, twisted thing am I

time for you, my friend, to die

Die crying

Die in pain

Scream aloud my wicked name

Die slowly and without peace

Die my friend, so I may feast

Slowly, sadly you sing for me

Now, no more shall you be

Wicked, wicked child am I

Time for you to say goodbye


I hope you enjoyed this little taste of Morsa in the early stages of her development as a character. If you have any questions or comments or ideas on topics you'd like me to cover in the future, leave them below. I will be posting at least once a week. So until next time, stay sane!

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3 comentários


lloralyn
12 de out. de 2022

Oh my! That is an interesting look into her! Poor tormented being! Thanks for sharing!

Curtir

scrapbiscuit
12 de out. de 2022

Author Raye T. Watson is an incredibly imaginative writer with a deep sense of teaching something of value along the journey of her stories. I understand this writer also illustrated the cover of the book. What a talent!

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rayetwatson
13 de out. de 2022
Respondendo a

Thanks! That means a lot! Did you get a chance to read my book?

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