Tree limb holds the tyre
On twisted rope it swings
Water a leech holds on
As it rocks to and fro

The ground beneath solid
Blades of grass hidden
Kiss the hardened soil
From where they grow

The air is brittle
A cry is heard
Wings cast shadows
‘Cross silvered moon

Orphaned leaves circle
Gathering strength within the wind
And the cry is now a scream
Inside the abandoned barn

Beyond the shadows she is seen
Arched back, waist length hair
Iced in steel swords
She levitates below the beams

Turning to see whose entered
Bones break and could be heard
Onyx eyes stare in my direction
Help engraved into her forehead


Perhaps I’ve been watching too many movies of late, but trying to get back into what I enjoy.

Feltone Castle – Part 7 – THE END


Hannah was angry, how dare they not answer her questions.

On her way to her room she heard the sound of water, but this time from a room to the top of the staircase, two doors down from hers, she hadn’t really taken notice of it before. The door was smaller than others.

Gingerly she turned the handle. She found herself standing mid calves in water, which just sat there like a layer of jelly, not pouring out of the door when she opened it, as it should, then again nothing would surprise her at this juncture.

She raised the lamp and gulped. Around the walls we’re pictures of herself, baby photos, child photos, adult photos, mingled with other portraits. Before she had a chance to really comprehend why her photos were there, the water started swirling around her legs, her head began to spin and she felt faint, it took all her strength to wade out of there as quickly as she could.

Within minutes all the doors in the house started banging, it was deafening. Hannah held her hands over her ears, yelling at them to stop it.

It was useless, they weren’t going to. She ran towards the staircase wanting to get out of the house, to escape  the incessant pounding.

“LEAVE NOW” they both screamed, Hannah thought of standing her ground, but they were making it impossible for her to do so. Before she knew it she felt a thump in the middle of her back and she was spiralling down the staircase.

When she came to, the doors were still banging.

“GO YOU SHOULDN’T BE HERE” they yelled in unison.

Hannah ran to the front door, it was pitch black outside, she looked around her, not knowing where to run, she was confused, scared out of her wits. Then fingers yanked the back of hair, she bolted around the back of the castle and found herself in front of the swimming pool.

She started crying, she couldn’t return inside and it was too dark and treacherous to make her way down to the village to get help and who would believe what was happening.

“You think you’re so beautiful don’t you?” a whispered raspy voice came from behind. Hannah froze, it wasn’t a child’s voice. She still couldn’t turn.

“He will be back soon, you know, but I won’t let him love you more than me”  Hannah tried to speak, but her mouth was so dry, the words wouldn’t come.

“He loved them too you know, too much, I stopped that, that bath is nice and deep. They tried to warn you, I must say you don’t scare very easily”.

Hannah realised this must be her aunt, the girls were warning her, not frightening her.

“I couldn’t get to you, so I got you to come to me, remember the letter, he leaves them in his desk, blank letterheads, I found them”.

“He always said how pretty you were and that I should invite you here, for a visit he said, why, so he could give you all his attention, like he did those brats”?

Hannah forced herself to turn around, there stood a small woman, a shock of white hair, dressed in a long black dress.

The wind picked up, the moon now not sheltering behind the clouds. Hannah plucked up courage to move, she started to walk slowly around Isabel, unknowingly Isabel stepped with her, till it was Isabel who had he back towards the pool.

A cry “GO NOW” and before she knew it Isabel seemed to have been pushed, her arms flaying in front of her. She fell hitting her head against the concrete edge till her white hair turned red and her blood dripped into the murky water below.

Thank you for reading everyone.

Feltone Castle – Part 6


Hannah woke, to the sound of rain splintering against the window pane, her limbs ached. She staggered bleary eyed to the bathroom and ran her bath, the sound reminded her of the water flowing down the stairs last night and she shudded. Wrapping the towel around her, she walked to the wardrobe and grabbed her jeans, jumper, coat and boots, wishing there was instant heating in this place.

Morning had come, there weren’t any sounds apart from outside. She managed to force a smile, as she peered through the glass, hoping her mission to the village would be fruitful.

She opened the door to the post office, no library existed, she couldn’t search records. The only stores were a butchers, a pub, a small grocery store, a hardware and home goods store and the post office. Finding someone who could impart some information may be a struggle. The butcher told her to head to Lily at the post office, she was the one to talk to, if she couldn’t help her, then to try the publican, Hugh. 

Lily stood behind the counter, an elderly woman of short stature, round dark rimmed glasses and a slightly too colourful paisley dress . Hannah approached her, introduced herself and began with her many questions. 

Firstly did she know of her aunt, the lawyer, the children who were haunting the castle. As luck would have it, Lily was the village gossip, well informed on the goings on of everybody and everything in the village. 

What Hannah found out shocked her. Lily told her that her aunt had not died, or not that she knew of anyway, that she had been placed in to a mental institution for three months, but then had been released. The lawyer was her husband, who was now overseas on a business trip and had been gone for over a month now. The children, twin girls had been adopted by them. 

Lily hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Isabel for months, or the girls in fact. Apart from coming down from the hill to purchase groceries once a month, she said Isabel kept pretty much to herself and even more so since they got the girls. 

Hannah returned to the castle totally bewildered, where on earth was her aunt, why was she institutionalised, why would her husband send her a letter saying that she had passed and that Feltone was now hers? The children that she heard, that she only heard at night but she hadn’t seen, were they Isabel’s?

Another storm was rolling in, the cloud pattern had moved from broken strips to a bulbous mass. Hannah was fed up with the weather and dreading another night of broken sleep. Hopefully they won’t come out tonight.

Night fell quickly, too quickly, Hannah made herself something for dinner from the vast array of food in the pantries, which since she arrived thought very odd. if her aunt had died, why would there be food in the house still? 

Hannah walked the stairs, some lights thankfully worked, upstairs some worked spasmodically. Oil lamps were the only forms of lighting otherwise, as she walked the stairs, lamp in hand, she heard the scream.


She stopped on the staircase and for the first time yelled back “Why, why should I leave, who are you, the twins, why are you trying to scare me away”?

There was silence.

…to be continued



Feltone Castle – Part 5


Hannah froze, her muscles clamped, though the lamp shook uncontrollably in her hand.

She turned her head slowly, remembering the scene from the Exorcist, not knowing what would be behind her. She held her breath, felt her stomach go hard. Nothing, there was no one, just the empty corridor she had walked down.  The door had ceased banging. The water had stopped flowing. 

Hannah went back into her room, locking the door this time. She placed the lamp back, but let it burn as she climbed into her bed, pulling the covers over her head now. She did not worry that her breathing was stifled with the lack of oxygen, she didn’t want any part of her exposed.

As she lay there, hoping sleep would come, she was determined to go into the village in the morning to try and find out what she could about Feltone. What had happened here, who were these children?

Her great great Aunt, the letter from the lawyer. She had no family to ask, surely someone who had lived in the village could give her some information, any information. Hannah wasn’t going to be frightened away that easily.

The wind outside had started up again, thunder cracked.

Her eyelids closed, when she heard the sound of heavier footsteps in the room above her.

……to be continued


Feltone Castle – Part 4


Hannah’s hands trembled as she held the lamp. Slowly she tiptoed and lent her ear against the door. She heard nothing. Her fingers grasped the ornate metal handle, the rippled design imprinted her skin she held it so tight. Opening it, her breath shallow and fast, relieved that the door didn’t squeak.

Out in the corridor, the blackness enshrouded her, shadows cast along the picture frames. Each step cautiously taken. Convincing herself that nothing would harm her, she had been at Feltone for two weeks and no harm had come to her so far.

From above she heard a door banging, not once but repeatedly. Then the sound of water, she held the lamp at arms length. She looked at the staircase and couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Water was springing from the floorboards pooling on each step before it toppled as a waterfall to the next.

She stepped back two steps, before she felt fingers on the back of her neck and a whisper of “get out”.

…to be continued


Feltone Castle – Part 3


Hannah was too frightened to reach for the oil lamp that sat beside her bed. She did not want any part of her body to be vunerable. The cries and footsteps continued, she hesitated before quietly drawing her legs from under the covers so she could light it. Her legs were unsteady, her feet shook as they touched the floor. What if they saw the light? Could she risk it? She knew she had to, she couldn’t lie in the darkness any longer.

She knew nothing of these children, that is all she did know, that they were children, from the sound of their cries. Were they evil? She hadn’t experienced ghosts before or any form of the supernatural.

Feltone was in her family for generations, she knew of its existence and as a young girl had dreamt of what it was like, but spending her life in another country, with no other family to call her own, she assumed she would never walk within its walls. This remained the case until one day a letter arrived from a lawyer, informing her that her great great Aunt, a woman whom she’d never met, had died and left the castle to her.

Even she hadn’t lived in Feltone, too grand, too large for just one woman to maintain. It was left for years, abandoned, unoccupied, or had it?

…to be continued

Feltone Castle – Part 2


She crawled into her bed, pulling the heavy blankets across her shoulder. Listening to the branches, the crows it seemed now settling as the wind slowly lost its power.

She was tired, but knew it would be hard to sleep. She scrunched her pillow hoping by pummelling the fibres she could rest her cheek within its walls and she’d be safely cocooned.

Her eyelids grew heavy, closing in intervals, the sign that sleep would soon wash over her. It was minutes before her breathing started to slow, her body heat shielding her from the cold.

Her body jolted so badly she felt as if she had been split in two, part lay on the warm sheet, the other huddled, shaking against the cold corner of the room. The cries were loud and piercing, the footsteps hurried, seeking.

There were two of them, this is all she heard and as she lay there, she sensed sadness in their cries.

….to be continued

Feltone Castle – Part 1


Feltone, almost faded into insignificance, shadowed by the sky that was thick of storm. There would be no moon this night. A rolling mass of greys and black, folded together like casulaties of a artists palette knife, whilst above the ravens cawed louder as the wind gathered strength beneath them.

The frosty night air bit against the stippled glass window. There was hesitation before opening it, only doing so because of the screams. She shivered as the gush of icy wind cut at her skin, the hair on her arms rose. She peered down to the ground below, shadows of the pets tombstones, crumbling like the bones that lay beneath them. Trees in the distance fought madly against the wind, she quickly bolted it shut once more.

This place had changed, not only did it allow the cold to seep inside her rib cage , but there was a sense of foreboding. It seemed to breathe through the walls, creep out from torn wallpaper, circle through the balustrades. It frightened her.

The cries were heard when the moon rose high, or shadowed by the clouds. Footsteps heard along the oak panelled corridors, or running up the grand staircase.

Who were they, why were they here?

….to be continued.

they sell ‘what’ at the market??

I am giving my little poetic brain a rest for now..probably will emerge later on tomorrow.

For this little post however I want to tell you the disturbing sight Mr. S and I saw this afternoon.

No,  it wasn’t both of us naked readers, please get that visual out of your heads.

We went to the local market near us, primarily to purchase some printer ink for Pop and some fruit. I did get somewhat distracted by the honey covered almonds and macadamias and yes I bought a small packet.. as they are were simply delish!

We strolled up and down the aisles (it’s like one very large open undercover garage) surveying the crap articles for sale.  My goodness such an array of …. and…. can’t really describe the fake jewellery, the illegally downloaded DVD’s and CD’s… where are those pirates when you need them? Oh they don’t actually send pirates  😦  pity Mr. Depp just sprang to mind racing across the foreshore hmmmm, sorry where was I.

Oh yes,  the disturbing articles on display in a very large stand, surrounded by a plastic shield were knives (I am so sorry I did not take a photo to share),  but I shall be writing to our local paper tomorrow to get an explanation!

We aren’t talking your apple paring knife, or your fish scaling knife or even your swiss army (must have in case  get lost in the wilderness knife). We are talking weapons, weapons that dads and their young sons were ogling over.  Weapons that teenage boys were pointing at and excitedly saying “Crap look at that one!”

PEOPLE Really…Seriously? How on earth can these be on display and sold?  Do we not have enough violence to deal with in our little suburban lives without thinking that Mr. “I want to sell you a new electricity plan”, who comes knocking on our doors, doesn’t pull out one of these instruments of death.

We don’t have wild animals roaming for the need to protect ourselves from them. Our kangaroos are very rarely seen in suburbia. What on earth and more so how on earth are people allowed to sell these in a Sunday market along side your fruit and veg?

It baffles me and disgusts me and certainly gives the wrong message to the “let’s go strolling round the market and see if we can buy a kick-arse machete this afternoon?!”

That’s it – I am done, but I shall be writing our local paper and ask W..T…


Over and out







Shall I write of what I dreamt?

Oh my such a dilemma I face. I wait with baited breath for a new challenge to be posted. Yet last night when I lay in my bed, this went through my head, so I cannot wait for a photo. I write this NOW because I have the need to, because it kept me awake half the night. I write this, because of my compulsion to do so. Now all I have to do is remember the words that ran through my head! Who indeed shall read and comment…. for those that do, I welcome you and I thank you.

Josh walked up to the barn door, though large and heavy, he lifted the wooden latch and slid it open with relative ease. He blinked, his eyes trying to accustomise to the light, that shot it’s way through the opening into the cavernous surrounds before him.
An old rusted plough to his left and on the wooden railing in front of him, two leather collars hung on rusted nails that the Shire horses would have worn heavily around their necks,  as they trudged through barren soil opening the way for seeds to plant.
Out of the corner of his right eye, he thought he saw something move, a shadow, a flash of dark.
He had bought the house and the barn and the acreage, knowing the stories from the village, the old wives tales of the property he had bought, was haunted. It was the 20th Century, witches, ghosts, simply do not exist.
Yet his body shivered, a feeling there was something else in the barn, apart from him.
The door, thankfully allowed enough light for him to adjust, regain composure.
As much as he tried, something troubled him, a presence he couldn’t explain.
The shadow…the dark moved again, his peripheral vision caught it and he quickly looked in the opposite direction.
Curiosity, stupidity…he looked up and to his right, beyond the wooden palings.
Transfixed, body taut and breathing heavy.
He saw it….she?
Dressed in black… a figure.
He took one step forward.
He swallowed hard, he looked upon a face… ashen…distorted.
The barn seemed to close around him.
The figure clad in black, bare footed, hung from the beam in the loft above.
The noose that strangulated her, was taught enough to cause her eyes to bulge, her arms hung limp by her side. Blood droplets, painted the edge of her bottom lip, the colour contrasting against her pale skin.
Her hair matted, the texture of straw, nestled on her shoulders, under the hood of evil.
He stared.
Her eyes opened, she smiled with yellow teeth… her body moved back and forth,  as if on a swing.
The barn door shut, he heard the latch close.