Gothic literature is literature written by goths.
Gothic Literature in a Koopashell[edit | edit source]
Within a cavernous corner she gazed out fearfully...into dead of night; a scent of decay crept from a distance. Alive for this night with malice and might, a stranger's voice beckoned. A zombie, I reckoned. Rustling in the trees tis something I see: a slow limp form, dusty, beaten, and forlorn slowly staggering towards me, drooling, gibbering with glee. Ever approaching, it writhed, eyes wide, mouth tight, staggering closer, dragging a scythe. With which it reflected the moon shine. The deep, silent, complete horror, shambling toward me, finally seizing me with a fear i never thought I would know. As I looked the scythe raised up and the zombie charged at the man standing behind me, deep in shadows.
I awoke from dreaming, distinguishing with the candle. Screams filled the night. Blood started to flow. Swirling arms and twisted features, amidst all the chaos, I managed to claw my way free. I ran as fast as my legs could manage. Fading into shadow the zombie disappeared from my view. Then the worst thing happened. I fell in a pile of slimy, smelly, disgusting socks, totally surrounded by numerous alien escape pods. "Aliens? How did they...?" I pondered to myself curiously, whilst picking my nose. Realizing how odd it was to be staring at the pods. Somehow I managed to unzip my black jeans and withdraw from them my big ray gun, which I fired at the scary thing behind me, but then it jerked forward, only stunned reared it's head and sneezed on me. I reeled backwards, splattered with foul smelling bright green slimy snot. I screamed. "EEEEW, GET IT OFF!" It was damn sticky. I grabbed a towel and vigourously scrubbed my face until it disappeared.
"Some people are strange", I thought to myself, wandering into the night, unknowingly pursued by a wolf. Its eyes were eerily lit with red. I thought to myself, "How could it happen?" I started to run away into the black cloak of night. Then the wolf jumped towards me with leering fervor. I fell down. Suddenly over taken with fear, wondering, "oh my dear!" I started to violently tremble, tears falling like rain of Spring's kiss. I tried to pull the strings of Fate but they denied me for what I was, a sorry excuse for a mere thought to flicker away into oblivion, with nothing to hide but my own disgrace.
Through fallen gaze I saw a large cat with jet black fur and golden eyes. She said to me, "Fight!" I slowly did rise, fear searing my soul, maddness blinding my eyes. I tried to run from the consuming feeling but I could not. Instead I charged forward firmly and aggressively, and lept into the air like a startled cat. I hit the beast with a deep fried fury and broiled vengence! After which I turned to retrieve my arsenal of eyeliner and cigarettes; and withdrew my extra large sweater from my acid washed messenger bag and realized I can't use my sweater because it was moth-eaten.
The Wolf laughed at my flimsy display, but his bared white teeth were bleached to catastrophy. Fear and adrenaline shot my veins, like a fishmonger at the market and then my lungs filled with my blood making me gasp for the cold winter oxigen, choking on my blood, while below my eyelids things danced around for an escape from the trembling feeling I chased. Was I halucinating? What hides inside my mind? I think I shall do a barrel roll for no reason other than messing my hair.
I like scary dreams especially close to Halloween. I randomly exhale thoughts onto the paper when the door creaks open. I turn to look and through the shadows out the back door, I see a face. It's complexion is pale with glowing yellow eyes and sharp white fangs, set ablaze by the light of the moon.
I leap from my submarine control panel seat and turn myself into Flapulon, the winged avenger to best defend my miniature fellow companion like a little reminder of my pet iguana Lazarus, which formed in the Bermuda Triangle after cops ran backwards in the dark alley near my unprepared piano of doom which came so suddenly all over the place. The spiders were closing all the doors and the lizards were scurrying into plutonium-powered golf carts to combat rampaging zombies underneath my bed sheets with giant radioactive elephants wearing orange biohazard goggles were iridescent flailing maggots falling in the soup that my aunt had with an eel sandwich.
I struggled for the proton laser gun I kept around for emergencies but, alas, no luck for I could not reach the damn thing! A noise then boomed "OUT OF MY ROOM!" I turned and ran...(SECTION TOO LONG)
And that's what goths read!