D-A-Skelly

Image from Public Domain: Frank Dicksee: Vikings Heading for Land BRENDAN and THORA By D-A-Skelly     A peat bog is particularly lonely never more so on a storm-driven night. It’s a time when the banshee howls claiming midnight for her own. With hair streaming down her back, garnet eyes alight with pain the banshee hovers watching and waiting for who knows what. Her age is timeless to all intent and purpose she is a prisoner of time itself. 795 AD     As the longboat pushed its way up the narrow river the Norse warriors were on high alert. Carefully watching the landscape as it passed them by. It seemed fertile, just the place they

Gothic invite came my way Tete-a-tete  next Friday Dressed to kill, ready to dine Escort descended from old blood line. Knocked door with pounding heart Music faint, Amadeus Mozart Heavy portal, creak and groan Butler stood all skin and bone. Gothic web trapped its guest Felt unable to protest So polite, vampire charm Was unwary, he disarmed. Oaken table, silver plate Strange, no food for dinner date? Now I see red gleam in eye Truth revealed, dying sigh.