Saturday 26 March 2016

Prologue 5

(NB. Last of our prequels returns to the nameless and formless threat from the end of Ghost Story II which may make a reappearance in Part III. Join us, won't us next week)

Following the Post Office
Railway tunnel
From Platform 13
Shut for decades

They followed the pair of them
A few yards behind
Jutting in broken darkness

Dredged in pelting mud

Splashed across ink swirls

Shepherds in death

Choking revenge

With each breath. 

Sunday 20 March 2016

Prologue 4

(NB. Features our main characters from Ghost Story I and Ghost Story II on a road to whose nows where. (All shall be revealed in April of course). 


Flicking away in the light
Congealing in the wind
It seemed like
We walked for days
When in reality
It was maybe a few hours

Shutting out the events
From that shooter
At the station
Into loitered memories

Plunged through
Dissonaned bled tunnels

Unclear where we were going
But leaving me feeling
Like I was writing notes
For my own funeral
With each step
I took. 

Sunday 13 March 2016

Prologue 3

(NB. What is this in Prologue 3? All shall be revealed soon I promise)


Plodding back
To where it came from

Wet in hushed anger

Wrought in clawed fingers
Cradling threads from
Almost forgotten myths

Carved once upon a time
On silvered stone
In broken tongues

It waited
Sloping nearer
And near slightly

Swallowing its rage
For just a few minutes more. 

Sunday 6 March 2016

Prologue 2

(NB. Moving on about half a mile away, this second chapter is sat on St Anne's Square building more and more hints about this threat) 

On most days
You wouldn’t see her
Sat outside
The exchange
Looking to space

Reddening her tears
In the sunset
Of the thickened air

Drawing nearer
And near until dusk

Rising with emotion
Furrowed deep with fear
That stripped away
With the clock

Wondering whether
It would be her turn
That night. 

Thursday 3 March 2016

Prologue 1

(NB. Prologue 1 is the first part focusing on some rough sleepers near what maybe Manchester Victoria Train Station) 

Shaping movements
On most nights
You would see four of them
Huddled together
Just out of sight
In the boarded up old station

Shaking like tiny mammals
In the heart of winter
As the snow
Never ceased tapping
On the boards
Like postmen

Trying to get inside
To join them
Away from the nightmare
Lingering all
Over the streets above

Hidden in plain sight.