Tag Archives: ghosts

The Serpent

Swimming in sulphurous waters
With the daughters
Of Eve.
Adam doth grieve
But woman does not deceive
For man does freely choose
His innocence to lose.

Man desires
While the serpent sires
Under indifferent skies.

The serpent lies
Apparently slumbering,
While secretly numbering
Every notch
That does blotch
His once perfect bed posts.

Themselves flaunt
And haunt
The dismal caverns of the mind.

No peace can man find
With the vampire
For she on herself feeds
And seeds
In we human dust.



In chiffon.
In fabric sheer
She passes near
Then is gone.

Shadows on the wall
I recall.
One can not catch a shade
For it is made
Of moonbeams
And passing dreams.

A 5 star review of my collection of short stories, “The Suspect and Other Tales”


I was delighted to receive the below 5 star review for my collection of short stories, “The Suspect and Other Tales”:

“This is a well-written collection of tales, some of which have surprising endings, and all of which make for great reads.
I enjoyed “the Condemned Man” a lot. But “Something Wicked” and “The 8.32” were my favourites”.
For the review please visit HERE
Many thanks to the reviewer for taking the time to read and review “The Suspect and Other Tales”.


Three Poems by Toby Wheeler

Below are 3 poems by my friend, Toby Wheeler. The poems are copyright, Toby Wheeler and may not be reproduced without the prior permission in writing of Toby Wheeler.

Tired Laces
Walking in the back woods,
Drained, instilled with dread,
I huddle down to tie my shoes,
Torn and pushed by the next lad down;

Off they would walk whilst smirking back
With mud stuck to my knees;
I asked them to wait, I would plead,
But they just carried on, my cries they went unheeded.

They did not care as I trundled behind,
Stomping on untied threads,
And the wind would howl and blow the trees,
With their distant laugh an echo in the leaves.

‘Wait’, I yelled, where are you now?
No answer was supplied,
Confused, I’d grapple and wonder why
They did not see me as equal in their eyes.

I start to run along the path, up to the forest gate,
But then I caught a branch and fell,
Tripped face first into the well,
‘Wait up guys’, in winded pain,
I raise myself and wipe my face,
I start to cry as tears form
Whilst bending down to tie my lace;
Now upset, now so angry, feeling hurt and turning blue,
I look up now and look around,
And so the silence surrounds me,
It approached while tying my shoes
The Power of Persuasion
Was that a trick of the light?
A phantom in the cupboard?
Was that the anger of a poltergeist,
Or the sound of a crying child?

There’s a face I can see in the shadows,
The smell of a haunted lover,
The moaning of a Cromwellian soldier screams on Roundaway Down

A door that creaks
The roof that leaks
The sink that taps at night,
The power of persuasion, can cause all kind of frights.

I see a ghost in St. John’s church
I see a man stand by his grave
I see a bride who’s aged, scourned and mourning

I see a fire that caused a death
A man who died alone in his bed,
And a soldier who died by the sword.

The leaves that rustle
The bell that chimes
The clock who’s ghost appears at nine;
The power of persuasion, can haunt us all tonight.

Perspectives from a corner in the pub
By Toby Wheeler

Anytime I could be here, writing in a pub;
But it happens that today I’m in this one;
Drowning my poison in horseful gulps, the precious liquor like liquid gold on my tongue.
As the man plucks his guitar and friends natter, the barman pushing pints for souls reaching out for the best type of dole;
The exposed walls offering some kind of numbing comfort that there’s something between me and the world outside as an old friend sits at the bar staring at the glass half empty; he doesn’t see me so I don’t approach, we left on bad terms.
Anything to avoid the large antique mirror pasted on the wall; I don’t want to see the anxious face that stares back, the warmth in his eyes lost after too many years of finding perspectives from a corner in the pub.

The Grey Lady Of Allerton Tower

Today I visited the ruins of Allerton Towers, in the company of my mum, her partner and the 2 dogs. On returning to my mum’s home and feeling curious regarding the ruined mansion, I Googled Allerton Towers and came across this ghost story pertaining to “The Grey Lady”, who is reputed to haunt the old house and grounds, (http://www.slemen.com/allertontower.html). I am sorry to say we saw only dogs and their owners during our walk, no “Grey Lady” did we spy. The above story does, none the less make for interesting reading.


Drowning In Nightmare

The suffocating dark holds me tight,

Locked, in the arms of nightmare through the blackest of nights.

Sweating, unable to arise from my bed,

I lie, black imaginings running through my head.

A ghoul by the bookcase stands,

Intent on dragging me into death’s barren land.

What is that shadow on my bedroom door?

My dressing gown hanging or something more?