Haunted Hill by F.A. Calder


Village in a valley’s green,
Quaintly nestled, lies beneath
Misty mountains ebony
Castle, where the spirits sleep.

Townsfolk tell a solemn tale
To the brave who wish to stay
In the rooms of famed estate,
Through the night, ’til break of day.

“Apparitions gather late.
Midnight hour’s when they wake.
Manifesting in this plane.
Reenacting death’s their bane. 

Demon’s gift – total power,
Swaying royal blood to bow
To allegiance. But they’re found
Stabbed, dismembered, hung, and drowned.

Dead of night in misery,
Sufferers of gruesome deeds,
Have no malice, only seek
Deja vu of dying ceased.”

Passing by the windows glow,
Dreary palace shadows roam.
Eerie screams and ghoulish groans.
Echo mood of restless souls.

Visitors who catch a glimpse,
Of the specter’s cursed for sin,
Feel deep sorrow and a chill,
Journeying to haunted hill.


F.A. Calder is an indie author and U.S. military veteran who is a member of The Planetary Society. He has some poetry published, such as in The Rippling Waters: The National Library of Poetry and The Nocturnal Lyric. Having traveled throughout the globe, his cultural and historic explorations have allowed him to expand his horizons, while engaging in research, reading classic literature, and writing across genres.


Published 2/10/22


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