Lisa M. Griffith's Writings

Inside the mind of this imaginative author.

Welcome to Lisa’s World

Welcome to the wonderfully creepy world of Lisa M. Griffith’s Books, Short Stories and Poems!

Where else can you find a severed hand, a lunatic teddy bear, a bus destined for hell itself, and a mysterious glass cookie with the power to possess your soul? Read the posts below to descend into the vortex…

Achilles’ Heel

Achilles slept with a nightlight. He was deeply afraid of the dark; he always had been. It started with night terrors he began having at five years old. His weary parents took turns consoling him. His dad suggested a nightlight in the hope that it might help.

Either the nightlight helped, or Achilles grew out of the night terrors. As he grew older he would try to ween himself from the use of the light. It didn’t work. Each night he’d wake up to a darkened room, his heart thundered, he felt… READ MORE

Blinding Light

Motti Lepido rose from a fitful sleep. The morning sun had waltzed through the cave entrance, casting a bright light he could not ignore. Today would be the day he finally left this place.

Over many months, he nursed his wounds. He still thought of the cause of his pain every day. How could he forget Francesca? He’d been in love before, been burned in many relationships. Francesca was different; Motti barely made it out alive…. READ MORE

Fleeting Blooms

Beck Hansen walked through the entrance to British Columbia’s Butchart Gardens where a weak sun was blanketing the full blooms of springtime.

He was thankful for such an easy photography assignment. Allowed to enter the park one hour before opening, Beck focused his camera at the colorful…. READ MORE

Heléna Goes To Hades

Heléna Katsaros, exhausted and sweaty, returned to her apartment in Athens. She had just finished taking her neighbor’s dog for a run. Her job as a fundraising coordinator meant that she traveled too often to keep a pet. She had to be content with the occasional favor of being a surrogate dog-walker.

Just when she was about to turn on the shower, her cellphone rang. It was her assistant from work. READ MORE

The Fox at Nevern Square

The flight to London was uneventful. Folded like a pretzel in her seat, Nadia did her best to sleep. As much as she had to fly for work, she could never fully fall asleep on a plane.

This trip was both personal and work-related. An old friend from school had recently moved to the city, opening a co-op gallery in the Notting Hill area. Erika Martinez was an artist, and she insisted that Nadia come to visit the shop the next time she was in town… READ MORE

Jack Ketch

I shall be bold and call myself clever / As I make escape with a bag full of coin / Tis none my fault, no, not ever / That simpletons let their wares be purloined / stock-photo-jack-ketch-purchased I have no need for such stealth blade / My weapons be charm and wit / Here I am yet again having made / Off with the shillings of a local twit / Now to celebrate unscathed at ye old ale house / For a true thirst I have need / Tho I shan’t be as furtive as a mouse / In disheveled disguise I take my mead / In crowded room luck lets me find / A table for to rest my golden weight / The innkeeper obliges me in kind / With tankard and bread with plate… READ MORE

Moon Over Bourbon Street

Moon Over Bourbon Street, by Lisa M. GriffithsThe full moon began its showcase just after eight in the evening. A small breeze barely made a dent in the sultry airs surrounding the French Quarter. lmgwrites_slider_bg6-finVivienne Boucher was brimming with anticipation. It had been much too long since she’d last gone out to dinner, and she was quite hungry. But this was no ordinary night out for culinary pleasures; she was determined to find Mr. Right. She picked a dark red dress from the wardrobe; its style and fabric made the most of her curves. The hem just above the knees and deep v-neckline gave ample clues as to what lay beyond the silk… READ MORE

The Ride of His Life

The Ride of His Life, poem by Lisa M. GriffithsWith snow-capped mountains in his view / And the river Vindalälven so near / Comes the hunter in forest through / Striding confident and without fear. / lmgwrites_slider_bg7-finHe is Peter Forsberg looking for trout / Amid fragrant spruce and giant maple / To catch many fish he has no doubt / A feast to be had at the dinner table. / Hair of blond and eyes of blue / Evoke Viking ancestors of days past / His Lapphund, Thor, goes with him too / Who’s strong, brave, and very fast. / They claim their spot on the river’s shore / Peter readies the bait; Thor checks for fowl / Storm clouds gather as birds of prey soar / The air is rent with a lone wolf’s howl. / Thor looks to his master for a nod of ascent / “Go chase your beast but do take heed / Tis elusive quarry with much energy spent,” / Peter said. So Thor left with speed… READ MORE

On the Trail to San Wileo

San Wileo, poem by Lisa M. GriffithsThey left Cordoba at dawn under clear skies / South across the land of the Mexican Plateau / Just the four of them, insignificant in size / But pilgrims nonetheless on the trail to San Wileo. / On the Trail to San WileoWith the Sierra Madre Occidental to the west / Majestic views were seen throughout the day / Pine tree shade beckoned their troop to rest / “Not yet. El sol is leaving,” said José. / Turning east, they camped for the night / Among foxes, snakes, even armadillos / The flowering cacti were a beautiful sight / With sweet scents to tease the nose. / Joining the coyotes, the wind did howl / While the stars up above shown bright / Pilar was scared for pumas on the prowl / “I hope we make it safely through this night.”… READ MORE

Succumbed to the Sandman

Succumbed to the Sandman, by Lisa M. GriffithsShould have listened to what my father said / His words of wisdom fell on deaf ears / “Stay away from Red Glen or you’ll be dead.” / But I was young and had no fears / lmgwrites_slider_bg5-finHe tried and tried to make me understand / The evil that lurked beyond the trees / “A spirit,” he said, “who commands the sand / “And brings the strong down on their knees.” / Still, I was brave or so I thought / With wit and strength to spare / His admonitions were all for naught / With youth, I have no need for care / Came the day curiosity took hold / So through the woods I did go / To prove a point it must be told / No fear of spirit I would show… READ MORE

Wen-di-go

When I look in the mirror, the face that stares back is unrecognizable to me. Gone is the shine from my eyes and the smile from my lips.

The creature that I see in the reflection is gaunt, its skin stretched over its bones; the eyes appear sunken with a perverse hunger emanating from them. It looks starved, as if its insides are collapsing in on themselves.

I look like an addict… READ MORE

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