The writings of Hunter Coch

Posts tagged “horror

City of Specters

The dark side rises
In the city of specters,
Where memories live
Of torments best forgotten,
And cries echo through the streets.


Its Eyes Looked Beyond

Forest of twilight,

With trees thick, the path’s overgrown

To the hidden grove.


What light shines through the canopy leaves comes only in small rays that highlight the vibrant hues and make shine the tiny particles trapped within its beam. Small beasts scurry unseen in the dense foliage. Dead leaves crackle underfoot.


Vines crawl its stone face

Through lycan and moss of greens,

This ancient form stands.


The air is thick and heavy. Shadows move in unnatural ways and it feels like insects are following. The knowledge of time is gone. We walk the way disoriented, searching for the ancient rumor as the birds call from above.


The ancient idol

From beyond man’s memory

Waits for those who come.


What will we find? What lies at the end of our paths? What people would come to this hellish place to build in such a hostile environment? Do we seek a sacred grove of ancient wonders? What will we learn of this ancient people?


Into the distance,

It sees in shade and shadow,

It knows who’s coming.


The past is gone, the way is lost. We know neither direction nor distance. But we hear a call from afar, the distance song that sings to our dreams. We see a light in our mind’s eye. I fear, but we must move forward.


Light through broken leaves

Shines light on forgotten stone.

The way is open.


We stand up on a hilltop clear but for tall grass and a single stone idol, large and imposing. The sky is a light was fire; as the sun descends the stars flicker into existence. Filled with excitement, anticipation, and fear, he approached unwillingly.


Eyes of stone look deep,

From a time beyond knowledge

And civilized man.


My friends are gone. Hope is gone. We came in search of lost civilizations. We came to understand our own past. But this was not of human hands. I now know what lies within stone. I am gone.


Alone in the woods,

Stands an ancient stone idol,

Its eyes look beyond.


They Call


Rage washes ashore

Under rolling clouds of fear.


A lone seaman sinks

Beneath an uneasy sea.


From the depths they call his name.

It Screams


It screams from beyond

Sanity’s deep perception.

Delving deep within . . .


Oh death, we cry, come take us,

Oh death, we beg, release us.


It drinks deep from pain

Ripping out forgotten thoughts,

Leaving but a husk . . .


Oh death, we cry, come take us,

Oh death, we beg, release us.


Alone in tremors,

In a spiral of despair,

Inconsolable . . .


Oh death, we cry, come take us,

Oh death, we beg, release us.

It Feeds


What waits in the deep

And hides behind shadows gate?


It feeds on sweet fear

And secrets hidden within.


What moves in the dark,

Formless and ethereal?


It howls with hunger

Mindful of the burning sun.


It waits for the dusk

To hunt at times in between.


Beware the crevasse

And ancient hollow caverns.


It strikes at the height of fear.



Creeping in shadows,
In caverns, eons unseen.

Lost to modern lives,
But for a whispered madness
In the stories of children.

They Rise


From the waves they rise

Upon shores of sand and pitch.

Deep are their cold eyes.


They come from untold places.

Summoned by the hand of man.


Drifting Wind

Drifting Wind

Part of the Drifter and visual poetry series


Drifters Grave

Drifters Grave

Part of the Drifter and visual poetry series

The Lonely Walk of Madness

On a night-time walk,
To clear this mind of sadness,
For a woman lost,
Became a tale of madness.

Through old oaken groves,
On a chilly starlit night,
Thick mists snuck in and
Words that brought consuming fright.


Beats sound from unknown
Corners as shades come by fog.
And fires flutter,
Scented embers brought gray smog.

Fetish sits center,
Hooded circle come about.
With barbarous chants
The alien minds call out.


Barren head of death,
Carved with sigils great and small.
Idol of power,
To the ancient ways recall.

With the heart’s rhythm
The shadows begin to dance.
Smoke rises to heights
The daemons begin to prance.


Faster the beats rise,
Frenzied are the shadow beasts.
Fog and smoke and heat,
Drunk on the mystical feasts.

By beats and chants and thick smoke.
Blue and black fire,
The gifts of gnosis evoke.


Deathly fetish glows
As a dark liquid light spews.
Burning cold and thick,
Shifting with unearthly hues.

Then all became still,
And the ghostly creatures stared.
Alone in the dark,
Motionless, afraid, impaired.


Shades and shadows fade,
Silence comes and the fog clears.
Dare I ask what came
Dare I look in deepest fears.

By the light of dawn,
Arrives the deep cleansing rains,
And clearing quickly,
Eyes widen to what remains.


Deep scars and pale rotting stains.