CREEPY CRAWLIES
“Creepy Crawlies”
Who is it?
Who’s there?
Answer me.
You are where?
I feel something crawling underneath my skin
Eating at me from within
I scratch.
I claw.
I bleed.
I’m raw.
Get out of me. I yell at you.
You’re in my head. I’ve not a clue.
Just how it is I get rid of you.
You’re messing with my head, ya see
Crawling around inside my brain
I can not learn to live with thee
You’re driving me mad, driving me insane
The rubbing, scratching, clawing, the shame
I really will be okay
See, they have already gone away
Until they come back again another day
Wait!
Who is it?
Who’s there?
Answer me.
You are where?
Written on 2/21/19
GOTHIC HORROR AUTHOR STEPS INTO SPOTLIGHT
As a gothic horror author, I spend a great deal of time creating frightening worlds on the page. This October, I decided to step into a different kind of spotlight by entering the 2026 Face of Halloween competition.
Writing allows me to explore the darker side of imagination, but participating in a competition like this gives me a chance to connect with people who share an appreciation for Halloween, horror, and all things delightfully spooky.
My books explore supernatural forces, ancient evil, and the dangerous secrets hidden behind ordinary appearances. Halloween seems like a fitting time to celebrate the genre that has inspired so much of my writing.
I’m also discovering that putting yourself out there as an independent author can be an adventure in its own right. Every new connection is an opportunity to meet someone who might enjoy my stories, discover my poetry, or simply share a love of gothic horror.
I’m P.S. Kessell, author of the It That Has No Name trilogy, and I’m enjoying this unexpected part of my October.
If you’d like to follow my Face of Halloween journey, you can find my entry here:
Https://faceofhalloween.org/2026/pamela-kessell
Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to visit, vote, or offer encouragement. Your support means a great deal to me!
A BEAUTIFUL BLUE
“A Beautiful Blue”
Just under your skin are some pretty blue lines
I would love to explore them if you don’t mind.
A beautiful blue in every way,
Perfect to play with if I may say.
I dig in to find that perfect blue hue,
Digging and digging inside of you.
But all I can find is this red, sloppy mess,
That’s covering you now from your knees to your chest.
Give me that pretty blue line right now, I demand.
You’re not helping at all, just a twitch in your hand.
I won’t give up
until I have my strings,
And the peace and joy that the blue color brings.
But each and every time, it turns an ugly red.
I just don’t understand it.
Are you playing dead?
Get up and help me.
I really want to play.
But you do not move an inch,
And not a word do you say.
I’m digging and I’m digging and I’m digging some more.
I can not take it anymore and bang my head upon the floor.
I look down on my legs and notice just beneath my skin
Pretty blue lines, I’d like to play with them.
Written on October 17, 2026
SOUL SEARCHING
“Soul Searching”
Look into your soul is what I’d like to do.
Peel back its layers and take just a peek.
No, I’m not crazy; I just want to see!
To stare into the darkness to see what I’d find,
To see what has caused such a troubled young mind,
To spot the thing that has made you go mad,
Might save you from a lifetime of being so sad,
There’s anger, bitterness, jealousy in there
Fiery rage, disappointment, futility, despair.
I thought I wanted to see, but I don’t want to anymore.
Your emotions are on overload and are about to explode.
I take back what I said! I don’t want to see anymore!
But it’s too late now! Hell has opened its front door!
Written on 8/15/19
SEEDS OF DARKNESS
“Seeds of Darkness”
I have a hole inside of me
I pick at it so I can see
I scratch it and pick and scratch it some more
So much inside that I just abhor
It’s getting bigger
and sometimes it bleeds
and inside I find little, black seeds
Seeds of darkness planted there
Where they can grow and fester and swell
I have this hole inside of me
And it has grown as wide and as deep as a well
I pick at it so it’s infected
Poison from the outside world injected
I have a hole inside of me
It would just drain if I’d let it be
But I pick at it, I always do
Because it itches, I’m telling you
I have a hole inside of me
At which I’ll pick and pick endlessly
I have a hole; it’s big you see
Do you want to pick with me?
I’ll pick. It’ll drain.
Seeds and puss. ‘Til no end.
I have a hole. I really do
But so do many other men.
I have a hole inside of me
And it’s growing, growing, grown.
VENGEANCE
“Vengeance”
I reached inside and ripped out your heart
I stand here with it beating in my hands
Make one move towards me now, and
I’ll squeeze it just as hard as I can
Your time has come to suffer for your cruelty and your rage.
That’s why I’m here to take a stand
I whip you and beat you for the hurt and pain you’ve caused.
That’s still not enough; you took who I am.
I think I’ll put an end to you once and for all
I bit into your heart, and I ate it all.
Your fiery rage now burns inside me once again.
But you will never hurt another, to that I’ve put an end.
Written on 8/11/20
LIKE A WILD ANIMAL
“Like a Wild Animal”
Forgotten
Lost and
Afraid
Shattered
Dreams
Drift
Away
Loved
Once
In
Full
Embrace
Loved
Last
An
Empty
Space
Splintered
Memories
Split
Skin
Slicing
Cutting and
Forgetting
Like a wild animal,
I consume my young
Written on 6/3/21
THE TRANSFORMATION
“The Transformation”
She sits at the mirror in the dimming light
Painting her face for the coming night
Lipstick red like a fresh warm tear
Her hands start to shake with a sudden fear
She pulls back her hair to smooth every strand
A violent tremor hits her right hand
Her breath turns to ash; her throat fills with smoke
Her own quiet heart begins to choke
The mirror reflects an agonizing bend
She feels her small soul come to an end
A sickening rip beneath
Her soft skin
The bones of her face start shifting within.
Her fingernail split
growing long and black
She screams at the glass
With no turning back
Blood on her lips where the paint was spread
The woman she was is broken and dead
She stares at the glass
Through eyes made of coal
Trading her life and losing her soul
The shadow rises, the nightmare is whole
A terrifying monster in complete control
Written on 9/26/26
WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF?
What Are You Afraid Of?
Fear is an interesting thing. We all experience it, but we don’t all experience it in the same way.
What terrifies one person might barely bother another. Some people are afraid of heights. Others are afraid of the dark, enclosed spaces, spiders, being alone, or things they cannot explain.
And then there are the fears that are harder to name, the fear of losing someone you love, the fear of discovering something you were never meant to know, the fear of being unable to protect yourself, or someone else, when something goes terribly wrong, or the fear of being forgotten after you’re gone.
As a horror writer, I find those kinds of fears fascinating.
When I create a frightening scene, I’m not only thinking about what the reader can see. I’m thinking about what might be happening underneath the surface. What would make someone hesitate before opening a door? What would make them keep looking over their shoulder? What would make them wonder whether they should have come there at all?
Sometimes the most effective horror isn’t the thing standing in front of you. It’s the possibility of what might be waiting just beyond it.
That is one of the things I love about writing horror. Fear gives a story another layer. It allows us to explore the things people try to avoid thinking about in ordinary life.
And sometimes, the most frightening question isn’t, What is out there? But is what would I do if it found me?
Fear has always been a part of storytelling, from ancient legends told around fires to modern horror novels and films. We willingly step into frightening stories knowing that, eventually, we can close the book, turn off the screen, and return to the safety of our own lives. But, for a little while, we allow ourselves to be afraid. Maybe that’s part of the appeal.
I’m P.S. Kessell, an independent author of gothic horror, dark fiction, and poetry.
So now I’m curious. What scares you most in a horror story? Is it something you can see, something you can’t see, or something that could actually happen?
I’d love to know.