Sunday, 18 October 2009

All settled in and Viking Ghosts....

Well I am officially all settled in at my new blog at My primary pages of stuff about me, jorvik festival and a page showing off all my textile and other creative works have been completed and added.

Plus I seem to be becoming a little bit more famous every few days, had 10 views last wednesday and then had 11 views this saturday but my overall views is 64 which means 64 people may have seen me, talked about me with others and so more people might come back for a visit. It's quite a nice feeling.

Besides they should be visiting now that I am about to reveal my latest work in progress, a ghost story with a bit of a twist of viking influence. The story is set around Storthes Hall my old student residence and this quiant old derelict farm which has been around for at least 150 years according to my census research known as Ravensknowle farm. It's my first try at this type of thing as I'm not good at making people scared but I hope this at least intrigues you a bit and all feedback is encouraged and greatly welcomed. Thankfully I have until July next year to get this truly polished up before I submitt into a competition. But if I start having feedback now the quicker I can improve it and the sooner I can send it in. It is fairly short as the word count limit is only 1000 so I can't go into really good detail but I feel I have at least managed to give the story some descriptive meat in its key moments despite this although it did require a lot of cuts when I first began writing as I easily went over the limit.

So I do hope you check out my new blogging home at Wordpress heres the link and please do give all the feedback you can for my latest work 'As Old As Houses'.

As Old as Houses -Ghost Story – Yorkshire Magazine

“I wonder how old this place is.”

“Who cares it’s going to be gone after the weekend.”

Sarah was surprised by her friend’s comments to her question as they both stepped carefully over the branches of hawthorn which after had taken over the small yard they now stood in.


“Yeah, there’s a notice about it in reception.”

“Oh. What a shame.”

“Why? It’s a dump.” Jenny muttered pointing at the mould covered and water soaked mattresses which lay scattered like decaying corpses amongst the trees concealing most of the farm house walls. At that Sarah had to agree, staring at the tumbled pieces of brickwork, the roof with no tiles, not complete chimney stacks and the vandalism and graffiti all around.

Bored of their walk Jenny headed back towards the track which brought them to the abandoned farm house that evening. Sarah cast one glance back at the house which made her so curious before racing after her friend, returning to the familiar lights of Storthes Hall student flats.


Before her was darkness. A black nothingness yet within it something was moving. Some entity making the noise of marching feet that cracked like gunfire. The sound got louder and as it did so she could make out a faint red glow in the centre of her vision, weak but enough for silhouettes to be seen. Of heads and shoulders, close to each other, bobbing up and down with each sound of footsteps getting louder, getting nearer. Yet she could not move, she could not run away from what she saw, she could not cover her ears to what she heard. The screams of fear, panic, pain and mourning coming from directly behind her. As if an invisible crowd of women were wailing just out of sight behind her back.

Next thing she saw was the glisten of an axe blade coming down upon her from above and just before it would slice straight through her body words were whispered into her ear.

Jeg eh her.” A single male voice which gave her such a feeling of weakness Sarah sat bolt upright in bed, freed from the nightmare at last, the sound of her frantic heart pounding like the marching ghosts.


It was Sunday and Sarah was surprised to find she wasn’t the only one going along to see its sad downfall although probably not for the same reason. She stood amongst the student mob kept behind the safety barriers now that the bulldozer was in position. It was just as the bulldozer driver was about to get in, alongside a big cheer and chatter from the small crowd, that someone pushed past her. The culprit ignored the barrier and ran towards the house, straight past the demolition team. Only when Sarah glared after them did she recognise the long jacket they wore.

“Hey! Jenny! Jenny!” She yelled trying to stop her friend, Jenny turned around just as she reached the old farms coal shed which was now visible thanks to the demolition team who had cleared all the vegetation. The friend’s eyes met, Jenny gave a wave, a big grin and then disappeared quickly inside the farmhouse. “Jenny! Jenny! What are you doing?” Sarah couldn’t understand this, Jenny was meant to be visiting her family home in Doncaster. Why didn’t she tell her she was planning this kind of stunt?

People were starting to look at her with puzzlement and the demolition team were ignoring her shouting completely as the bulldozer driver turned on the engine. The rest of her cries were drowned out in a huge cruel cheer from the student crowd. Things were happening too fast.

Sarah caught the attention of the nearest man in a yellow jacket and showed genuine fear as she explained how Jenny was inside. He halted the bulldozer and went to the house with Sarah much to the disappointment of the crowd who began booing and jeering.

“She’s in here I swear. She went right past you all. Jenny? Jenny can you hear me?” Sarah called into the dusty derelict building as her and the demolition foreman stood at the doorway. “Jenny? Please come out, you’re going to get into trouble.”

“I am here.” Came an answer. Sarah took her first steps inside, immediately feeling the coldness of the shadows.

“Are you sure she’s in here?” The foreman grunted, not satisfied.

“Yes, yes she is. Where are you Jenny?”

“I am here.”

“She’s through there.” Sarah began to go into the few accessible barren rooms of the old building, seeing nothing but dust, cobwebs and bits of fallen brickwork. “Where are you Jenny?”

Again came the reply. “I am here.”

To Sarah it sounded the strongest and closest in the one room they had yet to enter. “Down here, she’s in the basement.”

“There is no basement. Not on the plans we’ve been given. Come on, we’ve wasted enough time. She’s obviously gone out whilst we’ve been looking.” The foreman turned around and headed back to the front door.

“No, no she can’t have. I heard her, she is in here? Didn’t you hear her ...”

Sarah was interrupted, as they passed through the room there was a crack as loud as lightening. A long creaking followed by several thuds as pieces of the floor concealed beneath dust, dirt and debris began to collapse and split apart. Sarah ran with a shriek towards the doorway of the room beyond.

Where the floor used to be there was now a foot deep gap the size of the room apart from the few pieces of wood remained clinging to the old stone work. In that large whole, neatly laid out before them was a skeleton holding a rusted axe.

Sarah heard those words again. “Jeg er her.”

The foreman swore before he clicked open the channel on his radio. “Dan get English Heritage on the phone, the damned house is right on top a burial site. Until then this house stays up.”

The End

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