Archive for psychic vampires


Posted in writing with tags , , , , , , , , on July 2, 2014 by kimmy


Here’s to you, sweet deluded Ones,
With your pseudo-friendliness and false smiles,
May all your journeys be as fruitful as the last,
Replete with self-praise and inflated opinion,
For your company is rarified
And few who attempt to aspire to its heights
Can manage the egocentrism necessary
To achieve the dizzying success that is mirrored
Solely in your beautiful eyes.

And how beautiful they are,
Reflecting all the colors and subtleties
Of the lifeless bones piled high and crunching
Beneath your dainty feet,
And the sparkle of self-fascination
That the only the delusional possess.

Now the time has come for you all to fly,
Higher than previously imagined,
To a plane where your dreams
Take precedence over all others,
And the joy that fills their hearts
Becomes food to fill your hungry veins.

For only when the last drop of blood is swallowed
And the last morsel of soul is devoured
Will your emptiness be filled and
Your sorrow begin.



Posted in flash fiction, writing with tags , , , , , on January 17, 2010 by kimmy

It was like being shot with a high powered rifle and bled dry by a vacuum that has no off switch.  I looked down at my hand so recently and ineffectually shaken and knew why it felt lifeless.  I had to escape quickly before the rest of me was consumed.

It wasn’t easy because we were thrown together under presumably happy circumstances.  All the party guests were laughing and talking, but I couldn’t hear them.  They were muffled by the pitch of the drone relentlessly seeking its target.  It cast a funereal pall over what otherwise was a joyous occasion, and I wondered if sackcloth and ashes might have been the better fashion choice for the evening.

Was that a dirge I heard in the background?  I wasn’t sure for what or whom it was played, but the dancers began to wail and tear at their hair as the shadow spread further into their ranks, engulfing each one into its tarry black mass.  It oozed beneath my chair and lapped at the spindles before I jumped off, clearing the wave before the barstool sank.

I escaped to another room and locked the door behind me.  It won’t get me here.  It was just a matter of waiting out the destruction and allowing the creature to move on.  But as I heard the screams of the less fortunate subside, I suddenly understood why I felt no relief at its departure.  It would return.  And continue to do so until it had found satisfaction in the obliteration of its enemy.