Beautiful angels on a staircase to the heavens. Models: Rachel, Lareina, and Jenn.
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Crystal in Congregation of Potato People. Model: Crystal A
Church of the Potato People
In the Church of the Tuber, where spuds convene,
A congregation of potato people, a sight unseen.
Their eyes, like russet orbs, fixed on the sacred ground,
As they gather in reverence, in silence profound.
Starch-filled hearts beat in unison, a tater’s devotion,
In pews of mashed delight, a tuberous emotion.
The pulpit adorned with skins, a priestly spud ascends,
Preaching the gospel of the harvest, where the potato life transcends.
But amid the devout, a stranger unknown,
A beauty in disguise, a presence all her own.
She, an outsider, a radiant yam,
In the sea of potatoes, a singular glam.
Her skin, a golden hue, not of earthly soil,
A sweet fragrance of difference, a celestial foil.
Yet, she hides among them, a secret delight,
In the congregation’s eyes, a clandestine light.
The potato people, unaware of her grace,
Continue their worship in the starchy space.
But the outsider listens, absorbing their prayer,
In the silence of tubers, a connection rare.
As the sermon concludes, and the congregation disbands,
The outsider reveals herself, a rose in the lands.
The potatoes, astonished, yet welcoming still,
In this diverse church, love trumps the thrill.
For in the Church of the Tuber, diversity blooms,
In the richness of differences, unity looms.
Potato people and yams, together they stand,
In the spud-filled sanctuary, hand in hand.
Anlgels of the Id welcoming an alien visitor. Models: Starla, Violet, Jenn Michelle, Lareina Tay
Dream fantasy of an alien carnival with a nude human attendee in rapturous delight amid the spectacle. Model: Destiny @holesofdestiny
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Olinka – Ice Queen. Model: Olinka Lickova @na5tyninja
Olinka,
naked beneath the bear skin’s coarse embrace,
a whisper of life on the frozen lake’s glass,
her form etched against the tundra’s pale breath.
The wind howls,
but it cannot reach her;
the ice cracks,
but it does not break.
She stands, a beacon of warmth
in a world that swallows light.
Her gaze, ancient and knowing,
meets the cold with quiet defiance.
It speaks of fires unseen,
embers nestled deep in the heart.
In her eyes,
a promise:
even here,
life endures.
Olinka,
the solace in the struggle,
the warmth within the frozen waste.
Violet as a huntress riding a Plesiosaur and piercing a dimensional veil in her hunt for food. Model: Violet
Crouching Lion, Hidden Wolf. Models: Violet and Ava May
A Goddess brewing a storm from her heavenly perch – Model: Ava May
Road Wraiths
On a moonless night, beneath a canopy of twisted branches, we found ourselves on a desolate road that snaked through the heart of an ancient forest. The air grew heavy with an eerie silence as our car’s headlights cut through the oppressive darkness.
As we ventured further into the lonely abyss, shadows danced on the periphery of our vision. Pale, ethereal figures emerged from the trees, their ghostly forms bathed in an otherworldly glow. Their beauty was haunting, a spectral allure that seemed to transcend the boundaries between the living and the dead.
The women, with flowing hair and eyes that glowed like forgotten stars, lined the sides of the road. Their spectral hands reached out, fingers beckoning with an irresistible pull. Mesmerized, we couldn’t resist the allure, as if the very essence of the night compelled us to follow.
The engine hummed, and the tires whispered against the asphalt as we succumbed to the enchantment. The forest enveloped us in an inky blackness, the trees closing in like sinister sentinels. A haunting melody echoed through the air, a mournful symphony that seemed to emanate from the very depths of the woods.
As we delved deeper, the apparitions’ once-beautiful faces contorted into twisted masks of malevolence. The air turned frigid, and the seductive whispers became chilling warnings. Panic set in as we realized we had been ensnared by a spectral trap, lured into the heart of a forbidding realm.
With each passing moment, the road seemed to stretch infinitely into the inky unknown, and the apparitions’ taunting laughter echoed through the desolation. It became clear that our journey had taken an ominous turn, and escape from the grasp of these ghostly sirens would not be easily granted.
In the heart of that haunted night, our car hurtled forward, surrounded by the haunting beauty of the specters, as we faced the unsettling truth that we had become unwitting travelers on a road that led not to salvation, but to a realm where the boundary between the living and the dead blurred into a nightmarish tapestry of the unknown.
Hall of Nightmares and dreams of Cabinet of Dr. Caligari with @holesofdestiny
