Watching the Ripples Radiate.
Author: marshalg

Chapter 58
The Ghost at Dawson Falls


The wood room door was opened wide

I closed it firm last night.

I woke at four and felt it's breath

It gave me quite a fright.

I felt it's chilly, gentle breath

Exhaling on my brow

And upright in my skinny bed

Roared "Get thee gone ghost,

Piss off now!"


With naked shanks I padded forth

To set and light the fire

Whilst outside in the wilderness

I could hear the specter's ire,

It moved about deliberately,

It stalked outside my room.

I warmed my bum by fires heat

And cursed to dispel doom.


That icy feeling permeates

It reaches to the bone,

It is far to early for a call

Yet there's the ringing phone,

I listen to the vacant hiss,

There's no one there of course

So I bellow forth obscenities

And hang up with a curse.


Old Basil told me of the time

He watched with open mouth

Whilst a faceless man in hounds tooth coat

Glided past him from the south.

The housemaids tell with fear filled eyes

Of depressions on the bed

Where something sat and rested there

Laid down it's weary head.

Except the house was empty then,

Unoccupied by guests.

No cat nor dog nor friendly hog,

Nobody playing jests.


Some nights I walk the corridors

To see what I can see

And I fancy Thomas Dawson's ghost

Is quietly watching me,

For he only shows his bearded face

At the darkest witching hour

And it's usually in the dead of night

To the echo's of the old clock tower

When the mountain looms above the lodge

Enshrouded in the mist,

And the morepork calls its haunting sound

And the snow is moonlight kissed.

Dawson Falls Lodge


18th August 2008


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