New dawning of the dead Quotes, Status, Photo, Video

Kenny Raines

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NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD GIRL

NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD GIRL

Kenny Raines

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Niggt of the living dead" oil underpainting

Niggt of the living dead" oil underpainting

Seagrette Omi Ngaihlian

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The last resort The only medium I could resort to When my days are gray, When I need you most But heaven forbids are - dreams. In my dreams do I, Seek for a glimpse of you. Each night I get fixed on turning my dreams into a cynosure for us both.. And each time I see you, Waking up is expendable.. Sometimes I feel my dreams As though they were reality. There's nothing I could do, When reality strikes me hard and I wake up thinking you were there, But you were gone-long gone. Now,I only have my dreams As the last resort to see you. But even then,not in all my dreams Were you there.. For I had no control over it. #dreams#a cynosure of the dead and the living

The last resort The only medium I could resort to When my days are gray, When I need you most But heaven forbids are - dreams. In my dreams do I, Seek for a glimpse of you. Each night I get fixed on turning my dreams into a cynosure for us both.. And each time I see you, Waking up is expendable.. Sometimes I feel my dreams As though they were reality. There's nothing I could do, When reality strikes me hard and I wake up thinking you were there, But you were gone-long gone. Now,I only have my dreams As the last resort to see you. But even then,not in all my dreams Were you there.. For I had no control over it. #dreams#a cynosure of the dead and the living

IamAnand

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Only the dead have seen the end of war.

Only the dead have seen the end of war.

Lakshmi Menon

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He was a passionate paranormal investigator, Yet skeptical. For many nights he covered sites, Which had the reputation of being haunted. Some nights he could record some inaudible noises, Some nights he got nothing. His disillusionment turned into desperation making him vulnerable. Until one night, during one of his investigations, He saw her. She first made contact with him in the deserted ECT room, Where during a ghastly therapy session, She stopped breathing and lost her life, She was a brilliant pianist and a child prodigy. But like most artists, she had a troubled life, The piano was her comforter and rescuer. Until one day, she got so involved in composing a piece, She forgot all track of time. She fell unconscious due to exhaustion, And opened her eyes in the hospital. To the world she was a lunatic, But she was only an artist who wanted to play the piano. When he heard her story, he realized. To see ghosts, you must first believe in them. For when you are desperate and call them, They will come. Because they trust you, And your pain... ©Lakshmi Menon The 5th Story of the Voice of the Dead series. Unheard melody #lostfeelings

He was a passionate paranormal investigator, Yet skeptical. For many nights he covered sites, Which had the reputation of being haunted. Some nights he could record some inaudible noises, Some nights he got nothing. His disillusionment turned into desperation making him vulnerable. Until one night, during one of his investigations, He saw her. She first made contact with him in the deserted ECT room, Where during a ghastly therapy session, She stopped breathing and lost her life, She was a brilliant pianist and a child prodigy. But like most artists, she had a troubled life, The piano was her comforter and rescuer. Until one day, she got so involved in composing a piece, She forgot all track of time. She fell unconscious due to exhaustion, And opened her eyes in the hospital. To the world she was a lunatic, But she was only an artist who wanted to play the piano. When he heard her story, he realized. To see ghosts, you must first believe in them. For when you are desperate and call them, They will come. Because they trust you, And your pain... ©Lakshmi Menon The 5th Story of the Voice of the Dead series. Unheard melody #lostfeelings

Lakshmi Menon

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The little girl walked along the long corridor, Holding her mother's hand, Months later her mum had taken out the time, To visit the haunted ruins of Bhangarh. It has been stressful since the single mum, Had moved to the Pink City. The little girl had heard so much about the iconic ruins, Her mum had to give in to her pester pressure. As they passed by one of the rooms on the top floor, She glanced at the battlements. Stood there her mum, dressed in a red native dress. And she was holding a little girl's hand, Who looked exactly like her. Before she could call out her name, They both jumped into the step well below . She stared in horror when her mum tapped her on her shoulder, She looked back and hugged her mum. As they both turned to leave, she turned back to look at the battlements, The little girl smiled and waved back, There was a wound near her brow The little girl felt her forehead, There was a birthmark exactly in the same place. Bhangarh's lost souls have been waiting for their redemption... ©Lakshmi Menon The 4th story of the 'Voice of the Dead' series. The little girl of Bhangarh #Ancienthistory #bhangarhfort

The little girl walked along the long corridor, Holding her mother's hand, Months later her mum had taken out the time, To visit the haunted ruins of Bhangarh. It has been stressful since the single mum, Had moved to the Pink City. The little girl had heard so much about the iconic ruins, Her mum had to give in to her pester pressure. As they passed by one of the rooms on the top floor, She glanced at the battlements. Stood there her mum, dressed in a red native dress. And she was holding a little girl's hand, Who looked exactly like her. Before she could call out her name, They both jumped into the step well below . She stared in horror when her mum tapped her on her shoulder, She looked back and hugged her mum. As they both turned to leave, she turned back to look at the battlements, The little girl smiled and waved back, There was a wound near her brow The little girl felt her forehead, There was a birthmark exactly in the same place. Bhangarh's lost souls have been waiting for their redemption... ©Lakshmi Menon The 4th story of the 'Voice of the Dead' series. The little girl of Bhangarh #Ancienthistory #bhangarhfort

Lakshmi Menon

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The four friends gathered around the Ouija board, It was around 3 am in the night. They had heard that their hostel was, Haunted by spirit of a young woman, Who had killed herself after a failed relationship. They couldn't be kept away from knowing if it all was true, They held their hands together and summoned her name...three times, Nothing happened. They tried again, This time the lights flickered. And the pointer on the board moved. "Are you here?", one of them asked. It moved swiftly to yes. The four friends looked at each other. "What do you want to do,?"asked another. The lights went out then, They were terrified by now. The pointer spinned on the board, "Kill you!",it read. The next morning, their bodies were found in the same room. There was a black mark on their necks, The Ouija board was on the table. The pointer was pointed towards, Bye!!! ©Lakshmi Menon The eight story out of the series "Voice of the Dead". The Ghost of the Hostel #hostel_life #Ghosts

The four friends gathered around the Ouija board, It was around 3 am in the night. They had heard that their hostel was, Haunted by spirit of a young woman, Who had killed herself after a failed relationship. They couldn't be kept away from knowing if it all was true, They held their hands together and summoned her name...three times, Nothing happened. They tried again, This time the lights flickered. And the pointer on the board moved. "Are you here?", one of them asked. It moved swiftly to yes. The four friends looked at each other. "What do you want to do,?"asked another. The lights went out then, They were terrified by now. The pointer spinned on the board, "Kill you!",it read. The next morning, their bodies were found in the same room. There was a black mark on their necks, The Ouija board was on the table. The pointer was pointed towards, Bye!!! ©Lakshmi Menon The eight story out of the series "Voice of the Dead". The Ghost of the Hostel #hostel_life #Ghosts

Sai Manohar

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We bury our most precious memories, but can they sleep long after their inertia of life. Perhaps, it's they, who sneakily crawl from right under our feet by twilight, and stand up as trees in crowded embraces, whispering pleas of freedom together, to the stars in their restless leaves. The song of summer breeze When the dead unfreeze #NaPoWriMo

We bury our most precious memories, but can they sleep long after their inertia of life. Perhaps, it's they, who sneakily crawl from right under our feet by twilight, and stand up as trees in crowded embraces, whispering pleas of freedom together, to the stars in their restless leaves. The song of summer breeze When the dead unfreeze #NaPoWriMo