All Hallows 2 by Evelyn J. Steward (smallest ebook reader TXT) 📕

All Hallows

When mist hangs low o’er craggy moor and owls fly on silent wings.
Where an eerie sound whines soft and low and hints at ghoulish things,
It is the witching of all nights when hags do broomstick ride,
and ghosts rise up from graveyard wombs, and skeletal creatures in
Dank dark tombs
eject the worms inside.

They rattle over moonlit earth and on the cobbled path
To fear us in our nightly round and jollyment aftermath
When wine and beer do plague the sense and set us all a-shiver,
Grey spectres hide, then leap aside to set us all a-quiver.

Then ghosts rise high and greet us nigh and we do run and hide
For loathsome sprites that roam the nights and fill us full of fear,
Hobgoblins in a merry mood do dance, and jig and leer
At mortals who dare walk abroad upon the Halloween,
Their eyes do widely gape and pop at sights that they have seen.

Men slam their doors against the hordes of beasts without a head,
So careful all ye mortal men, don’t dare to go out late,
Or all the ghouls will fright your mind and death will be your fate.
Some unseen spook, with bony hand, with ice your heart surround
And in that mortal expiry, your gasp the final sound.
Then grisly bands will roam the lands, and humankind be dead.


I read the poem out loud. It was scary, but then again, I was looking for something scary to make this the best Halloween ever. Dust leapt up into the air as I turned the musty pages of the book I had found in Grandpa’s old Library. The room was seldom used now and I felt as if I should not be there either. I shouldn’t but something made me leave the bright hallway and open the slightly creaky door into his hallowed place. Gramps loved his books and we were never allowed in there as kids.
“Stop,” he would say as we trespassed onto the threshhold. “One step forward could be your last.” At ages six or seven, you want to see grandpa, you want to cuddle into his lap and have him read you stories. And he did. Just not in the library.
Tom was in the house today but he left me alone to have ‘;my own space’ whilst he worked at some problem or other, so I knew I could call out if I wanted to. But was it scary enough to want to? Well, I was getting a funny feeling inside the somewhat darkened room. There was central heating, been there a long time, so it wasn’t cold that set a shiver across my shoulders as I looked at more pages.
Ghosts can come in all forms, whether of the mind or reality. And did I believe in reality? I had never been tested before so, maybe! This modern world of ours can hide a multitude of spirits, strange demonic forces. After all, The Bible tells of such things. Not that I have read it much, but it is discussed on t.v. There was a programme the other night hosted by a writer come comic, who had discussions with various theologians and clerics and professors about the Demons, the Devil and other demonic forces. Were they real or just perceived to be real. I was waffling to keep my spirits up. I laughed at my internal joke.
I shivered again as a light breeze blew across my shoulders. Then I heard a click. Turning to look towards the door, I found it closed, and I knew I had left it ajar so that Tom might hear if I called or if he wanted me for anything. Oh well, old houses often have strange noises and one of us may have left a window open. It all seemed plausible.
But when I looked at the book again, the pages were turned to pictures of Incubi. Slowly I turned the page myself to rid me of those malevolent images. More poems about demonic creatures, then ghosts and spirits. Why had grandpa bought this book?
The room felt narrower somehow as darkness fell outside the small window. Raven girl, I said, pull yourself together. You are a grown woman, although it did nothing to ease my mind.
There was a small desk light and I pressed the switch. Nothing happened. I was beginning to panic. Looking up, I felt the great shelves filled with thick tomes looming down on me. A slight scratch and one of the books was an inch or so further out than the others. Musty dust eddied down. Tiny motes twinkled in the last beams of the dying sun, a warming light that seemed out of place here. My arms crawled as my imagination was spurred. I was not wanted in this room. Grandpa wasn’t a bad man, was he?
Pulling myself together, I got up and as calmly as I could, I went to open the door. It wouldn’t budge! Twisting the knob, I rattled the door.
“Tom, “ I called, “Tom. I’m locked in.”
At first there was silence. Then I heard footsteps. Tom was coming. I breathed a sigh of relief. The footsteps stopped outside the door.
“I know,” he whispered. “I locked it. Soon they will come. You’re going to die Raven, and I will be free of you.”
I screamed, for a long time, until my throat was hoarse. Night fell dark and silent, until the scratching started. And the books fell on top of me. And no one came


Copyright Evelyn J. Steward Sept. 2001
Revised July 2009
Prose added November, 2011

Publication Date: 11-02-2011

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