Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

Image by Jan Mallander from Pixabay 

The dead don’t talk, they don’t play games
They walk through doors
Somewhere a chain to bind them to time
Over time the stories have grown 
To keep the local boys from playing in the old mill House
Many have entered and never returned
The towns folk say it should be pulled down
The sea has tried to reclaim the old mill house
It stands perilously at the edge of the land
If you visit the grave of Tommy Wilson
You lose the power of free will
To plead with your mind would be useless
You enter the old mill house, never to be seen again…


©AnitaDawes2022