Jump to content
Join the Unexplained Mysteries community today! It's free and setting up an account only takes a moment.
- Sign In or Create Account -

Tales from the Mist

Sign in to follow this  
  • entries
  • comments
  • views

Entries in this blog

Goddess of the Mist



Through a rift in the atmosphere, found with a purpose

still so enthralled, the angel crawls

to the edge of the night

and looks down

Hell is as much a metaphor in heaven as it is on Earth:

“Close enough,” he decides, as he surveys what he’s found


Earthly delights are what he’s after

smoking and drinking; music and laughter

He thinks of himself as a rogue player, wandering adventurer

heartbreaking slayer


The ladies adore him, his rugged handsomeness

irresistible charm

his smooth caress

With his wings folded tight, he can blend right in

among the cacophony of celebration

the nightlife and parties, the sin


You see, he grows bored with heaven

all its pureness, so tame

He craves the soiled imperfections

the struggle and the game

Which is why he often finds himself in a lovely stranger’s bed

enjoying earthly pleasures; letting his passions be fed


Sometimes his wings are discovered - with shocked delight and glee!

But until the morning light they are difficult to see

Which is why before the dawn returns

he must make his exit swift,

his lover sleepily calling, “Gabe…..”

as his wings give him lift




©Goddess of the Mist





Goddess of the Mist




She is cursed to always crave

master to the slave

bloodstone to the master

cradle to the grave


He guards his wicked treasure

twilight to the dawn

with a selfishness so absolute

sharing with no one


A drop or two won’t satiate




It leaves her empty, unfulfilled

left to wonder moonlit fields

barren plains of a love gone wrong

a mere shadow of feelings, once so strong

desiring attention of a certain kind

left to search but never find


A price to pay – a guide to take her there

to his warmth

his wild lair


The path is tangled, craggy and steep;

the mountains are high and the rivers deep

Frigid winds carry snow that blinds her eyes

still, she senses reward, fortune, her prize


It is with a relief so pure, so humble, so sweet

when he is awakened from his sleep

and then he gives her what she craves:

Bloodstone to the master

cradle to the grave


You fill my cup…

forever your slave




poem © Goddess of the Mist 









Goddess of the Mist

A Night Time Stroll



In honor of a night time stroll

I won’t let you down; you should say no more!

Here, take my hand.  Let’s walk out this door

to be young again, like we did before…


The air will be warm, a balmy night

We’ll grab beers to go and a smoke to light

As we make our way down an empty street

moon light, flood light, crickets on repeat


At the end right there an ancient house stands

old as can be and many times changed hands

I dare you, you dare me:  should we go inside?

But we both know we will, we’ve nothing to hide


It’s a sinister place, though, and shadowy too

you win some, you lose some – and this place was through

We make it as far as the front drawing room

creaking and cracking; apprehension-filled gloom


Spiraled stairs wind their way to where no one should stay

dusty spirals looming in historic disarray

we don’t dare ascend as the floors may give way

our hearts beating faster; shadows tremble and sway


A moment to kiss, take a swig and a smoke

the excitement we share from our spooky little joke

We keep quiet for reasons we don’t even know

it was fun while it lasted, but it’s time to go!


A blood moon is calling, a lunar rip tide

Hold my hand, hold on tight – an excitement filled ride!

Ride the waves with me, kiss the stars

The night time is ours!


Be my scary little darling; my night time delight

May the morning never come, make it last all night

We want to live in it, breathe it in

You make everything all right.


poem © Goddess of the Mist




Goddess of the Mist

Devil Kisses



Born of the devil’s kiss, an aching in her soul

her skin not clear but exquisitely marked

for the devil liked her very much – did he

Showering her, blanketing her from head to toe with hot, desiring kisses

The kiss of life, the kiss of death

leaving small, charcoal evidences behind wherever he touched

like tiny bruises that went deeper than they appeared

For they looked like shallow things, only they were much more profound

sinking down to her very being

And when as a child she wondered very much on the origin of the symbols

and the implications

Well, then her grandmother told her, “Those are devil kisses – he must like you very much!”

So she lay in her bed at night, just a little sweaty and fearful; imagining...

Would the devil himself show up; and did he love her?

Later, through times of strife, she wished he would show up

to explain a few things

then again, maybe he did

In the form of a cruel lover; revealing to her things like deceit, jealousy and revenge!

Ah, but those are merely earthly things, she thinks…

since she knows the devil must have more important occupations to fill his time

And every now and then she can feel the scorching from deep within,

The mark – an indicator and sign

of something so much more

And be it evil or benign

it is there all the same

as she looks out upon the world with a burning gaze 

Beauty without; the devil within.


© Goddess of the Mist


Goddess of the Mist

Black Witch Moth

I sensed it before I ever saw it.  It was a the dog days of summer, a muggy, boggy night in September of 2016.  Not quite Summer anymore, but not quite Fall yet either.  I had stepped outside into the evening, and as I walked under the carport toward the front yard, I sensed a presence.  Now, there's a kind of hidden passage back there that makes me nervous sometimes at night.  Only because it's so dark, but I often think of that Night Stalker guy, Richard Ramirez.  About how he would wait in the dark for these ladies to get out of their cars, hiding in garages and such.  Very creepy.  Either way, there was something there and I could feel it.  Suddenly, I saw a large, dark shadow.  My eyes were pulled toward the "ceiling" of the overhang, about a two and a half foot space.  

At first I thought it was a bat.  But a bat doesn't spread out like that; it'd be hanging.  Chills crept up the back of my neck, and I went in for a flashlight.  Back with my light stick in hand, and with apprehension, I directed the beam toward what I thought I had seen before.  There, right above me, was the largest moth I had ever seen!  I mean, he wasn't just a moth, he was an entity.  I gave him some respect by trying not to shine the light directly at him since he seemed to like the night.  He'd had a hard knock life, it seemed, with his tattered wings and all.  When I finally got my eyefull of him, I knew I had to find out what kind he was.

So I did some moth research, and found out that what I'd seen was most likely the majestic Black Witch Moth.  They say these guys have about a seven inch wing span, but the one I'd seen could have easily been a foot across.  I'm in the Florida Panhandle where they don't seem to be quite as common as places like Texas.  My Louisiana guy says he's seen them before there.  But had never seen one before in my life.  Apparently they can be symbolic and can mean varying things.  I tend toward ignoring the darker meanings and focusing on the more positive ones.  There was something else about them being lucky.  Or possibly representing change.  Honestly, I'm sort of big on the whole signs and symbols thing.  Not that I believe that's how the universe works, but I do give some credit where it's due.  In fact, my life did begin to change around this time, in both big and subtle ways.  

images (1).jpeg

Sign in to follow this