September 10, 2017 § Leave a comment
My homage to windswept vilages and ghostly pursuers, The Bridge At Barrowdale, has been published in Old Style Tale’s collection The Yellow Booke V. The collection can be ordered as a hard copy or downloaded as a PDF, and features illustrated stories from Ever Dundas, Thomas Olivieri and M. Grant Kellermeyer amongst others.
I SPENT A UNSETTLED EVENING, sitting in a wooden chair by the drawing room’s single window and staring out at the phosphorescent sea. The quiet of the cottage, so inviting in the clamour of the City, now seemed haunted by a spectral silence. I lit a small lantern as night fell but the flickering flame jittered queasily against the warped glass of the window and eventually I pinched it out rather than suffer its fevered dancing. No moon rose into the sky but a bright scatter of stars shone their sparse light down to sparkle on the breaking waves. The eerie bark of a family of seals called from somewhere offshore, rising over the susurration of water on stone. Eventually I slept, fitfully, wrapped in coarse blankets and dreaming of sea-cold fingers reaching out of the night.
October 8, 2015 § 2 Comments
They came down from the woods that night
those of frost, not firelight.
They snuffed out flame, snuffed out as well
the lives of those who quietly dwell
in towns and hamlets, farms and inns.
The places where mankind begins.
We’ve heard their whisperings in streams,
their faces only found in dreams.
Where masters older than our own
sit upon their oaken thrones.
Everyone they found, they slew
except a pair of children who
hiding underneath their bed
heard the woodfolk laugh. They said;
“Tremble not, we’ll leave you be.
Return this dawn to moss and tree.
Another night you’ll hear our song.
Years for you, for us not long.
As long as mankind bustles, thrives,
we’ll come to take your children’s lives.”
Prophecy-poem of the Northern Marches