50 Word Story – Good As Dead

There is nothing, but darkness ahead thick, black and cold.  I can hear the growl of the demon that is tormenting me inching ever closer.  Stumbling, I fall cracking my head on a rock.  I can taste the blood as it trickles across my lips…I’m as good as dead.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

The Trance

Rain fell torrential and strong

Thunder clapped and lightning struck

Reminiscent of Stoker won’t be long

Unless God grants us a little luck


Lightning flashed ‘cross blackened sky

Through gothic windows cast shadows eerie

I hope and pray I do not die

In castle dark on this night so dreary


Surely my mind must be playing tricks

These things I see must not be real

A touch of flu, I must be sick

For if I’m wrong then my fate is sealed


As shutters bang in wind and rain

A winged creature I thought I saw

With eyes glowing red am I insane

Rush I must, the curtains draw


A bang, a scratch on windows glass

I hide my face in fear a dream

A few long seconds the sound did pass

Minutes though it surely seemed


Then silence befell the musty room

A nightmare dream it must have been

Escape this place, this horrid tomb

Uncovering my eyes I turned a grin


Lo’ I find I am not alone

In shock I stumbled and couldn’t speak

Fear on my face I must have shown

Evidenced by wrinkle of widows peak


Eerie white and dressed in black

This fiend of fiction now stood before

I must admit I was taken back

Turning to run for bedroom door


Faster than a blink he blocked my way

In fear I trembled where I stood

Not a sound or word did he say

Under his cloak and silken hood


Then he scoffed deep and dark

The room took on a ghastly chill

Deadly silence no cricket or bark

A scream did emanate cold and schrill


Frightened I fell on bended knee

His putrid breath upon my neck

The room went dark I could not see

On whole of my life did I reflect


Grasping tightly with claw-like fingers

Hoisting me like a childs toy

Growing intensity my terror lingers

My heart and soul he seeks destroy


In a moments notice warmth I feel

A peace then fire runs through my veins

The slightest pinch in fog concealed

Monsters fangs they cloud my brain


I feel and smell the blood-soaked cotton

A trickle down my trembling arm

My wound it reeks of flesh gone rotten

Life is held in mortal harm


Again a laugh born of Satan’s Hell

Rings as unreal in dreary dream

My will to live dissolved in his spell

Nothing exists but him it would seem


This oddest of feeling from head to toe

My body and soul no longer of this world

Allegiance to him now must I show

Though why or how my thoughts he unfurled


He spoke in a tongue unlike my own

Though strangely understood by chance

You’ll never escape, I’ve returned you home

To eternity lived under Dracula’s trance


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


This Blanket Of Snow

This blanket of snow,

Holds no greater chill than that of my soul,

Tangled in frigid fingers of emotion,

Drowning in a veritable ocean,

Whose frothy foam I call home.


I ask not for your sympathy,

Desire not your empathy,

This road I must travel alone,

A path my heart to me has shown,

Until my thirst has been sated.


To struggle forth and never find,

Reeks with havoc a fragile mind,

Constantly reaching to dull the pain,

No matter how subtle to keep me sane,

Darkness hides the tears I grieve.


Let not this smile I outward show,

Mislead you that I carefree go,

Buried deep within sullen core,

Bolted and locked the iron door,

My feelings trapped in dungeon black.


I pray one day to find the key,

To let in light so that I might see,

The gift of worth in this life I’ve led,

Before I join the cold stone dead,

On a sea of stark eternity.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Demon’s Pawn – A Dark Poem

Echos cascade off these grey stony walls,

Eerie howls toll down shadow darkened halls.

What is the source I would not venture a guess,

Haunting the days into night as it falls.


Hearing their cries during every waking hour,

Crimson eyes glare from medieval watch tower.

Diverting away, surely this mustn’t be real,

With cape drawn up tight beneath I do cower.


Dashing from the castle to my cottage I must run,

Hoping for arrival before the setting of the sun.

Horrors await those found wandering after dark,

Til vengeance be exacted once the terror has begun.


Legend doth tell of the rising of the dead,

Of innocent and guilty who lost their heads.

By creature or demon no one can be sure,

Hide we all did behind locked doors and under beds.


Obscured by shadow and cover of the night,

The beast waged it’s terror hidden from sight.

Unsuspecting victims their lives it did take,

Expressions on their faces was one of pure fright.


How to defend against one you can’t see,

Nowhere is safe were the cries with mercies plea.

Huddled, crouched and muffled in pure fear,

Imaginations run wild, dear God what can it be.


Screams in the distance carried under darkened moon,

Praying for sunrise it can’t come too soon.

As quick as the screams rose they came to an end,

Silence was broken by the song of the oon.


The new day awoke no more need to hide,

Slowly, cautiously door unbolted we went outside.

Blood splattered drag marks we were led on our way,

At the horrible sight women fainted, men cried.


Hanging from a tree bow with nearly severed head,

Hung the body of a stranger mangled, bloodied and dead.

The demon he had struck in a most savage way,

Stringing up the innocent into thin air he then fled.


No footprints nor trace of which way he did leave,

Lowering to the ground for the poor man we did grieve.

Time had passed so quickly as nighttime fast approached,

Picking up the victim for burial we did heave.


Laying him to rest for darkness we prepared,

No one spoke a word of the terror that we shared.

Another night of evil behind bolt and hardened doors,

Hoping to survive proving the Lord our God had cared.


Have mercy on the traveler that knows not what goes on,

The devil lurking in the woods we’re praying that he’s gone.

For centuries we’ve done the same with always the same answer,

In this land of demon’s folly we are nothing but his pawns.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


Scars, fresh raised and red

Born of stainless razors edge

Bleed…to make me feel

Numb, I do not understand

What flawed design produced me

Sleeves long– Hide the shame

Attempts for naught this hollow fill

Am I all alone

Left to cut and poke and prod

To wake up the walking dead


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Tale Of The Jersey Devil – A Dark Poem

The wind it howled through dark of night

Father stammering in paralyzing fright

He hid me deep in closet bare

Eyes wide open through slats I stare


The growl it came on putrid breath

I feared the end a gruesome death

Father held tight as the door it rattled

Futile to fend an unnatural battle


Slowly the door it did part from it’s frame

Demon’s eye I see glowing red as a flame

Father held tight, just as tight as he could

But he knew in short order his strength fail it would


The beast it did shriek as father fell to the floor

Claws round his throat he threw father at the door

With a horrible thud bleeding and prone

Father lay silent and I cowered alone


I could see cloven feet moving this way and that

Flapping leathery wings as if clipped from a bat

It spit as it growled from between fang laden jaws

Destroying our cottage with yellow curled claws


It’s face was not human, nor of beast of the earth

Larger than a man in it’s height and it’s girth

The horns that did sprout from the top of his head

Certain in a moment I surely be dead


It clawed at the closet breaking slat after slat

‘Til the drool from it’s fangs fell inside pitter-pat

I curled in the corner as best that I could

Live another night I prayed to God that I would


The stink of the devil almost more than I could bare

As lice and maggots fell from his feathers and his hair

With one longing screech as spit ran down the wall

I closed my eyes and held my breath as the satan’s tail did fall


Then as fast as it came it turned and did run

Back into the pines from whence it did come

Leaving claw marks and stench behind in it’s wake

This night we were lucky for no life did it take


Battered and bloodied was my father its true

No worse was I for the terror gone through

This story’s been told, handed down through the ages

Written in books filling volumes of pages


Still there are those who refuse to believe

‘Til receive they a visit on one dark moonless eve

Jersey Devil of the pines unannounced makes his call

The season matters not winter, spring, summer or fall


The son of Mrs. Leeds, cursed long before birth

Banished to the forest amongst pine and marshy firth

Spawn of the Devil to live immortal life

Its best to guard your sons and daughters and your wife.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

This poem is based on the Jersey Devil, the longest lasting piece of lore in the state of New Jersey, originating in 1735. This website, WeirdNJ gives one rendering of what the Jersey Devil is supposed to look like along with a good bit of information about it’s origination and actual sightings of the devil.

I grew up in this area and lived there until about 12 years ago. It is an absolutely beautiful area along the southern coast of New Jersey, that is of course unless it is nighttime and you are lost in the Pine Barrens.

The Vultures (A Dark Poem)

The Vulture

The Vulture

Those birds, those horrid blood sucking birds

Circling overhead, their red collared necks deep crimson in the setting sun.

Sensing the departure of spirit and will,

Waiting for the living to become lifeless,

Relishing the coming of death.

What morbid creatures are these, heartless and soulless.

Lying here, is this to be my last vision,

This hideous species of fowl

Bent of emptying my sockets, disemboweling me,

A meal for the taking.

Impaled by the prey I so stealthily sought,

Victim of my own arrogance.

Alone and lonely, shielded in blood soaked clothes

Most certainly this is not the end I envisioned.

What of my loving wife,

What will become of my children,

What of?

They circle…

Lower now, they smell the end is near,

Smell of death is in the air, death is inevitable.

Cold is setting in, the end is close.

Swooping low, these maggots, they torture me,

Flapping of their wings, stench of rotting flesh.

Daylight is fading,

I am so tired, so cold, so at peace.

Do what you will my relentless tormentors;

My family will remember me as I was not as I am,

A poor wretch soon to be torn and scattered,

Nothing but a whisper on the four winds.

Take me O’ winged beasts, take me now!

My time has come,



~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~