RICK HAYNES

WHO GOES THERE by RICK HAYNES Pissed? We were, and why not, for the local pub had finally reopened, the beer was as excellent as it was before and the company of my mates was worth more than gold. Davy had brought along his guitar and Will had delved deep into his pocket to bring forth his treasured harmonica. Unable to play anything, apart from a fool, I was the chosen compere for the evening. And what a night we had. Before too long the Red Lion Inn was rocking for the firs

The Witch’s Sigil by Firle Lewis And what a fantastic poem it is with the bad and the good. This night, when stirs the very soil And all around do fast recoil, As restless spirits, deeply vexed, Do walk the earth, this world to next... You must take heed, the witching hour, When demons dark, your soul devour, And keep a virtuous, watchful vigil Against the harridan’s occult sigil. For should you sleep, ere sun has dawned, Then curs~ed be you, so adorned, By witch’s mark, your

THE DEADLY DUO by RICK HAYNES “What kind of ghost are you, Donkey Chops?” “How kind of you not to remember my name, Smarmy Face. I thought you were dead and buried.” “Of course I was, and if I say so myself, my funeral was a splendid affair, not some cheap do like yours. I mean, only complete idiots would cover your coffin with flowers already dead. But I bet you liked it, didn’t you.” “If I could turn the clock back for just a minute, Smarmy, I’d guarantee your nose would be