# data[].attributes.headline
Frankenstorm - Truth Be Told by Carol Varsalona, 2023

# data[].attributes.subject
Frankenstorm - Truth Be Told by Carol Varsalona, 2023

# data[].attributes.attachment_caption
Original Digital Art and Poem that was my attempt at a Bouts Rimes format

# data[].attributes.headline
Ashes by C. M. Eddy, Jr. with HP Lovecraft - Found poem by Carol Varsalona

# data[].attributes.subject
Ashes by C. M. Eddy, Jr. with HP Lovecraft - Found poem by Carol Varsalona

# data[].attributes.headline
Children of the Corn by Stephen King - found by Bridget Magee

# data[].attributes.subject
Children of the Corn by Stephen King - found by Bridget Magee

# data[].attributes.body
I'm scared out of my mind,

can't we just go?

that question caused

a trickle of fear

something to do with religion

and corn

and children

YOU ARE NOW LEAVING GATLIN

NICEST LITTLE TOWN IN NEBRASKA

©2023, Bridget Magee. All Rights Reserved.

# data[].attributes.headline
Midnight Visitors During the Thinning Veil

# data[].attributes.subject
Midnight Visitors During the Thinning Veil

# data[].attributes.headline
The Walking Dead by Helen Zax                    

# data[].attributes.subject
The Walking Dead by Helen Zax                    

# data[].attributes.body
From The Shining

by Stephen King

frightened

by the sound of him

whistling tuneless

between his teeth

in his plague-raddled face

suddenly

the smell of oranges

a dismembered teddy bear

a monstrous mechanized wasp

the stir of bones in the crypt

dread building

he stood frozen

disconnected benumbed

as bloated fish-smelling hands

closed around his throat

# data[].attributes.headline
Found Poem-Moe Phillips  From The Invisible Man By H. G. Wells- 

# data[].attributes.subject
Found Poem-Moe Phillips  From The Invisible Man By H. G. Wells- 

# data[].attributes.body
Chapter #20

I went to bury him

I remember the funeral, the cheap hearse

Scant ceremony, windy frost-bitten hillside

Walking back to the empty house

Through the place that had once been a village

Desecrated fields ended in rubble heaps, rank wet weeds

I remember myself a gaunt black figure

Going along the slippery, shiny pavement

Strange sense of detachment I felt

My old life came back to me for a space

All like a dream

That visit to the old places

I found it hard to sleep

I lay awake dreaming feverishly

Things growing misty

Vanishing about me

The thing had to be carried through

The fixed idea still ruled me

Vanish!

What was I doing?

Why was I always alone and secretive?

I lay there like grim death

I beat my hands on the wall with rage

I was invisible!

# data[].attributes.body
From The Fall of the House of Usher by Edgar Allen Poe

​uplifted my eyes to
decayed trees
shaking from my spirit

©jone Rush MacCulloch