50 Word Thursday #40 – The Results

Well, another week has just flown by! The 50 Word Thursday challenge has come to an end. Click on the link to see the post:


The Rules:

  • Find the muse within the photo or line provided and follow where it leads. It can be a story, anecdote, poem. Anything!
  • The Story must be between 50 and 250 words, in 50-word increments. (so 50, 100, 150, 200 or 250 words)
  • Link back to this post with the tag 50WordThurs so that everyone can find it, or post your response in the comments below.

Here was the picture:


And the Words: “It is quite true that his life had been very evil, but, upon the other hand, he was most conscientious in all things connected with the supernatural.” – The Canterville Ghost by Oscar Wilde.

To some of you, this may have seemed like an insurmountable challenge, but to others, it was a challenge that they were determined to meet. Here are the eminent entries of those intrepid writers, some of the stories are dark, shadowy and tenebrous, guaranteed to send a chill down your spine! 🙂


50 Words Thursday #40


50 Word Thursday








Deb Whittam, of the blog Twenty Four, who created this challenge originally, has agreed to co-host this challenge with me. I am honoured to hand the baton over to Debbie, who will post this week’s 50 Word Thursday Challenge!

Deb, over to you 🙂


I have also included the following word prompts in this post:


FOWC with Fandango — Chill






50 Word Thursday #40 – Without Qualms.


And the Words: “It is quite true that his life had been very evil, but, upon the other hand, he was most conscientious in all things connected with the supernatural.” – The Canterville Ghost by Oscar Wilde.


He materialised in his usual place, within the ruins of the castle that had once been his home. He cast his mind back remembering the splendour of his great hall once lined with red silk tapestries.

Spotting what he’d very much hoped to see, a lingering tourist, who had come unawares that this was one of the most haunted sites in England, he drifted over, slow and steady in his usual manner.

His body had become incorporeal but he retained his sentience and his desire to kill.

It is quite true that his life had been very evil, but, upon the other hand, he was most conscientious in all things connected with the supernatural.

As he reached out to this living creature, hoping to scare him to death, the man turned and stood there, without a qualm, no delicious screams.

“People were so hard to scare nowadays”, he lamented woefully.

[150 Words]


This story was written for the 50 Word Thursday challenge, click below if you like to take part:



I will be posting all the entries tomorrow evening.


I have also included the following word prompts:


FOWC with Fandango — Cast




The Strange Inheritance – Finale – A Multiple Word Prompt Story for Halloween.

This is my final part of the horror story I have been writing. Halloween is almost over.

If you want to read the full story, I have linked to it here:


This story contains the following word prompts:


FOWC with Fandango — Weight




Halloween, ghosts, goblins.


James held Jennifer’s weight in his arms as she continued to cry into his shoulder.

“How did you know? Did you find her body in the cellar?” Jennifer’s’ voice was muffled and it barely sounded like her at all.

“I found something in the Cellar. It wasn’t her body. Something is going on in the cellar, there are books down there and scientific equipment” James hesitated before continuing “There are also jars containing body parts. I recognised Aunt Elizabeth’s eyes.”

Jennifer pulled back and stared into her brothers face. Her eyes were open as wide as they would go, he could see the whites all around her pale grey irises. She looked deathly pale too. He smiled at her, to try to reassure her and patted her hand.

“How did you know she was dead, Jenn?” 

“She came over to me as I was reading and spoke to me. I thought it was her, but then she changed into a girl and ran through that bookshelf. She was a ghost, James. I hate this place, there are ghosts here. I want to leave. Can’t we go now, before its too late? It’s Halloween and I don’t want to stay here after nightfall.”

“You know full well we can’t leave. We would forfeit Uncle Joshua’s money and everything we’ve done will be in vain.” James smiled again.

A thought passed through Jennifer’s mind. If the Aunt Elizabeth that came to her just now had been a ghost and there was a jar in the cellar that already contained her eyes, then maybe the Aunt Elizabeth they had heard screaming in Old Uncle Joshua’s bedroom had been the real one. Maybe the one they saw afterwards in her bedroom, that had been a ghost, or something else in disguise. She looked back at her brother who was grinning at her. James was sullen and morose, it wasn’t like him to smile like that. His eyes too were intense, bluer than she remembered.

Quickly she jumped up and ran to the door.

“Jenn? What’s up?”

She turned and shouted.

“Are you really James? Or are you some trick? I can’t stand this any more.”

James stopped walking towards her and suddenly the same thought occurred to him, nothing is quite what it seemed in this place.

“How do I know it’s really you for that matter? Look, Jenn, we’ve got to trust each other, or we’ve had it. Remember in the orphanage, I gave you my teddy bear when the warden said we couldn’t sleep in the same dormitory. What was it called, do you remember?”

The memory came flooding back, the loneliness of the orphanage. She used to cry herself to sleep every night missing her mother and father and James kept sneaking into the girls’ dorm to comfort her. When they caught him there they would beat him, but he still came. Then he gave her his teddy bear. What was it called again? That’s right, it was called Mr Micawber.

“Mr Micawber, I remember”

They both relaxed then. The feeling that they were not on their own gave them some comfort.

They sat down on a leather sofa and looked through the window at the grim light. It was still hours from sunset but it was one of those days where the grey clouds kept it from becoming true daylight. The view down to the lake would have been pretty on a sunny day, but today it only gave a modicum of comfort.

James had picked up the journal from where Jennifer had dropped it on the floor.

“So, what’s this you’ve been reading, Jenn?” 

“It’s horrible James. It’s Old Josiah Van De Gaard’s journal. He was wicked, a monster. He murdered his own child. I think he was dabbling in devil worship too.”

James opened the book and skim read it. He was always a quick reader, he had a much faster brain. “Yes, It looks like you’re right, he was into something really dark. He was looking to make himself immortal! Jenn, you know what?”

“No, James, What?”

“I think he succeeded. I think he’s here in this house somewhere.”

“Don’t James, I’m scared enough already. Where could he be, we’ve searched everywhere in the house and you’ve searched the cellar.”

“We haven’t been inside the master bedroom, it’s been kept locked. He’s got to be in there.”

“That’s enough James. I can’t take any more of this. I don’t want to find out any more about this horrible house. Let’s just leave. While we still can.”

“No Jenn, I promise I won’t go looking any more. We’ll stay together from now on, but we’ve got to stay the night. We’ll inherit a fortune. We’ll get Aunt Elizabeth’s share now too.”

“How can you be so callous, James. She was our Aunt.”

“She was a hateful, selfish old woman. You don’t remember like I do. She deserved what she got. It’s just the two of us now, but I’ll look after you, I promise. Haven’t I always?”

From then on, they stayed together, stuck firmly with the glue of absolute terror. In the kitchen, Jennifer heated up the dinner that Mrs Ponsomby had left them and they ate it sat at the table as they watched the meagre daylight slowly diminish. They had turned on all the lights of the house already, every single lamp. They had also brought the torch down from upstairs so they would not be caught out by any sudden power cuts.

The additional light didn’t seem to help that much. The noises started even before sunset. The voices whispered at them, called to them.

They could hear footsteps overhead. Scampering steps like little goblins running up and down the stairs. Jennifer heard the same cackling laughter that Aunt Elizabeth had made before she’d transformed into a ghost child.

“You should have gone, while you had the chance. Too late. Too late now. You’re mine now.”

This was no whisper but the loud deep voice of a man, it came from the floor above.

Then they heard a bloodcurdling scream and all the lights went out.


Quickly, James pulled the torch out from his pocket and the kitchen illuminated. Jennifer started lighting the candles they’d placed around the room, then held his hand in a vice-like grip.

The door to the cellar flew open and the same voice came calling.

“Come to me now. It is time, at last. The final step. Your blood is mine.”

Jennifer ran screaming towards the front door but James grabbed her and held her tightly. He was smiling at her again. A twisted smile. His eyes seemed to glow. Then he began walking toward the cellar door, pulling her along. She struggled and screamed but he was too strong. He was always stronger.

“That’s it, come to me. You can’t resist the call of the blood.”

He dragged her down the steps into the dank cellar. A red light came from somewhere further in.

“Yes, bring her to me. I must have blood to be fully released.”

Then she was the creature standing in the main chamber of the cellar. It wasn’t human, or at least, it wasn’t anymore. Horns sprouted from out of the bald cranium, the sunken eyes in that old mans face glowed red. The gnarled old hands ended in claws and the grinning mouth contained a multitude of pointed fangs.

Jennifer tried desperately to pull out of her brothers grasp but his grip would not lessen. He stood staring blankly at the demonic presence that their great-grandfather had become.

An almighty crash sounded coming somewhere above them. The fiend looked up and shouted. “Noooooo!”

Down the cellar steps, figures emerged each wearing a costume of red satin robes with black masks. They were chanting in Latin.

“Dies irae, dies illa solvet saeculum in favilla teste David cum Sybilla. Tuba, mirum pargens sonum per sepulchra regionum coget omnes ante thronum. Quod sum miser tunc dicturus, quem patronum rogaturus cum vix iustus sit securus”

As they chanted the demonic figure roared and grew larger, exploding from its prison within the body of that old man. Remnants of flesh remained at the monster’s feet as it expanded to fill the space to the vaulted ceiling.

A figure wearing white robes and a black cap ran forward and threw white powder over the floor and over James and Jennifer too.

The other figures formed a circle around the creature and continued chanting, getting louder, filling the space with their voices.

James shook himself free of his enchantment and looked around him, he remembered nothing since the lights went out in the kitchen above. The smell of sulphur and decay filled his nostrils. The sight of the huge demon made him fall back. It was then he realised he was still holding Jennifer’s hand. She was staring at him like he was a monster.

What’s going on? Who are you?” James shouted at the man in white.

“We are the Order of the Black Rose. We are here to finish off this Demon for once and for all.”

One of the red-robed figures cried out “Quickly Doctor, we can’t hold it much longer. He is too powerful. He is breaking free.”

The figure in white pulled a long-bladed knife from his robes.

“It has to be this way. I’m sorry. Our former leader, Joshua Van De Gaard discovered the secret before he died. He spent his whole life keeping the demon that his father had become contained, but he couldn’t break the original pact. As long as there is Van De Gaard blood running through someone’s veins, Josiah Van De Gaard, or the demon he has become, cannot die. Only with the death of every Van De Gaard can we finish off this monster.”

The man pulled Jennifer up from the floor where she had fainted and grasped her hair in one hand exposing her neck. He lifted up his blade ready to strike.

“No, Wait!” James shouted and grabbed the mans wrist, holding the knife “She isn’t a Van De Gaard. She’s not my sister. My Sister died of a fever before I was sent to the orphanage. I couldn’t bear the thought that I had failed her. I wanted to protect her, but I failed. At the orphanage I met this girl, she looked so much like Jennifer that I decided I would protect her instead. I called her Jennifer and eventually, she forgot who she really was. I am the last Van De Gaard.”

James wrestled the knife from the Doctors hand. He held it firmly and then plunged it into his own chest.

The Demon screamed, it’s head fell back and a white light emerged from its gaping maw.

The chanting grew louder and the Doctor began chanting different words that echoed around the chamber with great power.

The Demon exploded and all went black.



Jennifer awoke from a terrible nightmare. She was laying in a strange bed with a feather pillow under her head and a hideous pink candlewick bedspread over her.

She didn’t recognise the room. It wasn’t her flat, that was for sure. It was a small room, with a tiny window through which sunlight was streaming. There was a writing desk in one corner and on the wall opposite was a large crucifix.

The door opened and a lady came in carrying a tray. She recognised the woman and a name came into her head which she spoke out loud.

“Mrs Ponsomby?”

The woman came over and placed the tray on her lap then put a hand to her forehead before replying.

“That’s right dear, quite a turn I had finding you unconscious on the kitchen floor. Dr Forbes has been in to see you. He said you would be right as rain. I’ve brought you some chicken soup, that should help build your strength up. I knew you’d catch a chill, sleeping in that draughty old house by yourself. Well, all that’s done and dusted now. There’s a solicitor chap downstairs who wants to see you, but I said he’d have to wait until you’ve had something to eat first. I expect he’ll want to talk about your inheritance. I’ll send him up in a little while.”

“Thank you, Mrs Ponsomby,” Jennifer said weakly.

She smiled and left the room.

As Jennifer lay there, she felt a cold sensation come over her. Then on the desk, the pen began moving on its own. She heard the scratch-scratch sound as the fountain pen passed over a scrap of paper. Then the pen dropped to the floor and she felt the coldness leave.

Pushing back the tray, Jennifer jumped out of the bed and picked up the paper. Scrawled on it were only a few words.

“I protected you the only way I could. Love, James.”




Copyright@ Kristian Fogarty 31st October 2018











In Velvet Dreams – A Nostalgic Ghostly Tale

As you may know, I am currently taking a break, but wanted to share some of my earliest posts with you, that you may have missed. 

This was the first ghost story I ever wrote on the 5th of April.

Quite appropriate now we are in October and Halloween is approaching. 

All the best 🙂 


In Velvet Dreams

He couldn’t believe it. The House of his dreams. Ever since he was a little boy, he always wanted one of those grand Victorian houses, like the one in Mary Poppins. With the house prices in London sky high he could see his dream getting further and further away.

He worked as a freelance journalist and so money was not flowing and sometimes the stream dried up completely for a short time. He had just come to the end of a lucrative contract and he had saved every penny, living mainly on baked beans just so he could get the biggest deposit he could. He was quite lucky in that his Uncle owned the flat he lived in, in Clapton, and so he paid minimal rent.

Continue reading In Velvet Dreams – A Nostalgic Ghostly Tale

A ghostly family home – Short story.


FOWC with Fandango — Comfortable



It was an old rickety house and no one in town liked it much, but it was home for me. 

It was my ancestral home. Generations of my family had lived in it since it had been built back in 1890.  In fact they still did in a way. Not living of course, but they weren’t quite gone either.

So what if it was haunted? It didn’t bother me at all. They weren’t just ghosts, they were family. 

There was something so warm and comforting to be surrounded by your loved ones. My grandmother still sat in her rocking chair in the bay window knitting something that no one would ever wear and she will never finish. The moths had eaten away at the ball of wool that was still at the back of the wardrobe in Granny’s old bedroom. 

My own Mother and Father still occasionally drifted past. I often bumped into my Mother in the kitchen, which is where she spent most of her life providing meals for the family. My father was usually in his comfy chair by the fire. You could hear the rustling noise of his newspaper.

My Grandfather was mostly seen in the potting shed out back. That was where he was found after his last heart attack. 

The house had become a bit of a local landmark, you could see it from quite a distance, perched up on the hill at the top of the street. The old wooden boards were peeling, they could do with a lick of paint. Some of the roof tiles had blown off in last winters storms. The curtains at the windows were all moth-eaten and straggly with cobwebs hanging from the corners like it was always dressed for Halloween. 

It was nice being left alone. No unwelcome guests or nosy neighbours trying to find out your business. We didn’t even get any ‘trick or treaters’ at Halloween anymore. Not after the last time. I think I scared those poor kids out of their wits; it must have been a shock seeing my old body lying at the foot of the stairs like that. The way they screamed and ran away down the hill was hilarious.

No, some people may not have wanted to live in that house with all its ghostly echoes of the past, but I was comfortable. I was one of them now.

The End

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 30/July/2018


Three Things Challenge – 11th June – The Night Crawler

This is a Three Things Challenge as set by the haunted wordsmith, see link below:



Here are the three words for 11 June 2018: cat, grass, midnight

Here is my attempt:


It was funny how things looked so different at night. The colours had somehow leached out of everything. The grass no longer looked green, but a funny grey colour. It was a bright night though. There was hardly a cloud in the sky and the moon was only just short of being full. It shone brightly, casting an eerie silver light over everything. 

It was a warm night too. The humidity was quite stifling, maybe the black clothes were not such a good idea. 

Just then the clock in the old church chimed midnight. 


If it was going to happen, It should happen now. The dead were supposed to walk abroad at midnight and this was supposed to be the most haunted graveyard in the country. 

Continue reading Three Things Challenge – 11th June – The Night Crawler

The Old House on Hallow Hill – A Macabre Tale

They had only just moved in to what they hoped would be their forever home.

It was an old detached property, possibly Victorian, and had decoratively carved eaves and a covered porch. She could imagine putting a swing in the porch and sitting there on warm summer evenings. It was a cold March day and the wind was far too biting for any lingering on the porch today. 

They were still moving in, there were boxes and chests everywhere and the furniture was just dumped randomly around when the doorbell rang. Jessica put down the box she was carrying, that was headed upstairs to the second bedroom and the doorbell rang again as she walked towards the front door. 

Thinking it was a bit early for the neighbours to start calling and sussing her out and slightly irritated at the way the person rang the doorbell twice and hadn’t given her a chance to answer it, Jessica aggressively swung the door open.

On the doorstep was a small old man with a large nose and big ears and a rather alarming glare in his eyes. He had on an old plastic mac over dungarees and a check shirt.

“Yes? Can I help you?” Said Jessica slightly tersely.

“Maybe, are you the mistress of the house?”

“Yes, I am Mrs Lee. What can I do for you?”

“Just a warning for you. You’re new to the house so no one will have told you yet. Don’t go messing about with the house or the garden. They won’t like it.”

“Who won’t?”

“The Spirits, they aren’t resting easy, you mustn’t disturb them. Don’t go changing things around too much, or they’ll come for you.”

“Well, thank you for visiting, I’m sure you have some more people to see and I’m rather busy. Good day.”

Jessica slammed the door. “Bloody Crank“. She said. “Why do they let them out?”

She thought no more of it. They had so much to do and Keith, her husband only had today off work to help and Tom, her son wasn’t really much use now he had reached those teenage years. He just liked to find somewhere quiet and play games on his phone or snap chat the friends that she’d wanted to get him away from. Their old neighbourhood was way over the other side of town and this was supposed to be a nicer suburb. She hoped he would start to mingle with some nicer kids who would actually engage in the real world rather than just talk though a phone all day. 

It had taken them until the sun was well and truly below the horizon to get things in a semblance of order. Even Tom helped in the end, mainly getting his own room sorted so he could lay in his bed instead of on the floor.

The living room, Kitchen, their bedroom and Toms were pretty much done. The other bedroom held random stuff for upstairs that she could sort out in her own time and the dinning room held downstairs stuff. 

Jessica put the kettle on and made them all a nice cup of tea. As they sat down on the sofa, still covered in its dust sheet Jessica remembered about the strange man and told Keith and Tom about it. 

“Sounds like a right nutter to me.” Said Tom. Echoing Jessica’s own conclusion.

“That does seem odd. It reminds me a bit what they said to me at the estate agents when I went to pick up the keys.” Said Keith.

“Really, what did they say?”

“They said the house had been empty for some time, because the house sometimes didn’t like people, like it had a mind of its own.”

“Really, it doesn’t seem to be a creepy house to me. It has a nice feeling about it. Cosy.”

“Well maybe that’s because it likes us.” Said Tom. “Maybe if it didn’t like us it would be all cobwebby and like something out of a horror, but if it likes us, it’s cosy.”

That night, Jessica slept soundly. There is nothing more exhausting than moving house and she was knackered. As she drifted off into a lovely deep sleep, she’d felt somehow that someone was holding her hand, comforting her. She felt a waft of air though her hair, like a soft and gentle caress. 

As the weeks went by, Jessica felt more and more like there were others living with them. Not so much when Tom or Keith were with her, but when she was alone in the house or in the bath or lying in bed. It was like having a team of invisible admirers constantly smiling and giving off comforting vibes at her. It was comforting and strange at the same time. 

When they’d been in the house a couple of months they decided to host a dinner party and invited one or two of the neighbours they had got acquainted with and Keith invited his boss and her husband. Mr and Mrs Atkins lived in the new house opposite. She was a schoolteacher and her husband was a football coach. They seemed a very nice middle-aged couple. Mrs Saunders lived two doors down and Jessica had met her in the supermarket and had struck up a conversation in the queue. Mr Saunders was a rather quiet mild-mannered man who probably didn’t get a word in edgeways as his wife was loquacious in the extreme. Keith’s boss Siobhan Edwards was a tall and elegant lady, exquisitely dressed in a dove grey high-necked gown. She was very intellectual and loved talking about the Opera that she had been to in Milan, or the last performance of the London Symphony Orchestra that she’d seen on her last business trip. Her husband was a nervy pale thin man. He had been in the Navy and it had left him a little bit shell-shocked. Jessica found him actually to be a nice person to talk to. He would talk about the places he had been to around the world, but not in a boastful way like his wife. 

“I have wanted to see inside this house for such a long time.” Said Mrs Saunders. “I had heard so many rumours about this place, I was dying to see it.”

“Oh Really? What rumours are those?” Jessica inquired. 

“You mean you haven’t heard? This house is supposed to be full of spirits. It has been simply ages since anyone lived here. The last owners were the Schuylers. Mrs Schuyler died not long after we moved here and then her Husband was taken away. He was losing his faculties apparently and they put him in a place where he couldn’t be a danger to himself, or anyone else.”

“Yes I heard that.” Said Mrs Atkins. “It was before we moved here though, we’ve only been here ten years. I do remember someone bought the house briefly though and moved in at the same time we did. They left suddenly after just three weeks and it went back on the market.” 

Siobhan then told them all about a trip to Edinburgh when her and her husband had gone on a ghost tour. “Remember Henry? I didn’t feel anything at all. It just smelled damp and I think that’s why people thought it was haunted. But Henry swears he saw something, Don’t you Henry?”

“Yes dear, I definitely saw a man, dressed in armour with a grisly expression on his face. It gave me quite a nasty turn. I didn’t sleep well for a while after that.” 

“He’s so sensitive, poor thing.” 

“Excuse me Mrs Lee, do you mind if I used your bathroom.” Asked Mr Edwards

“Yes of course, Its right at the top of the stairs and the first door on your left.”

Jessica was just serving the after dinner coffee and mints when they heard the loud scream. It was a mans scream, a deep bellow, but it was the scream of someone scared out of their wits.

Jessica put the coffee pot down and ran out into the hall, several others had followed her out. 

Mr Edwards was walking backwards towards the top of the stairs. He had covered his mouth with one hand and his other hand pointed to the other end of the landing toward the attic stairs. He looked as white as sheet and was sweating profusely.

Siobhan rushed up to grab her husband, just before he nearly fell backwards down the staircase.

“Henry, what’s wrong?”

“I saw her, it was horrible. A woman with blood pouring down her face. She was there on the attic steps.”

Siobhan helped her husband down the stairs.

“I think we should be off home now. Thank you for a lovely evening Jessica, See you on Monday Keith.”

The guests all left after that, mumbling their thanks.

After that no one ever came to dinner. Excuses were made, no one ever said outright that they were scared, but nevertheless no one ever came in for more than a cup of tea and never when the sun had gone down. 

A few months later they decided to do something about the eyesore at the bottom of the garden. There was a pile of brambles and vines and a collapsed structure that was probably an old summer-house. They also decided to make use of the Attic. Up until then they had used the spare bedroom for their junk and so hadn’t bothered going up there. Now they’d had word that Keith’s Sister was coming to stay from England for a whole month, bless her, and so they would need the spare bedroom for her to stay in. They discovered the door to the attic was locked and none of the keys they had been given worked on it. 

The two things happened simultaneously. Odd that sometimes that happens.

They had workmen clearing the mess at the bottom of the garden and at the same time, they had hired a locksmith to open the door to the attic.

Tom and Keith were down at the bottom of the garden helping clear away the brambles and vines. She was with the locksmith as he finally managed to get the door open. 

Nothing could have prepared her for what they found. 

The door opened and the attic was bathed in a dim light from the round attic window. The room was covered in cobwebs but had clearly decorated with dark velvet drapes covered in occult symbols. Inverted pentagrams and other demonic devices. There was a long altar like table and lying on it was a decayed corpse. It still wore remnants of a long gown, which indicated it had been a woman. The skull looked like it had been hit with an axe. 

Jessica prided herself on never having screamed in her life, but she could barely contain herself. Then she heard someone come running up the stairs. It was her son Tom.

“Hey Mom, Mom, they’ve discovered something horrible down at the bottom of the garden.”

Her protective instincts kicked in and she moved to block the view of the room from her son.

“They have found six bodies buried there. Small bodies, they look like children. It was awful.”

Jessica began to close the attic door but the locksmith was kneeling in the way, his face staring at the horrific scene in the room. He was frozen in fear and disgust.

With some difficulty she managed to move the man out of the way and closed and locked the door. 

In a shaky voice she said.

“I think we should call the police.”


The End

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 16/April/2018




via Daily Prompt: Crank