I now have a website for my books http://www.hayzeebooks.co.uk
Thursday, 4 October 2018
Saturday, 15 September 2018
Echoes From a Cobbled Street - Kindle Book only £2.00
The follow up to What Has He Done Now? - PRICE REDUCED TO ONLY £2.00
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Echoes-Cobbled-Street-Stories-Poems-ebook/dp/B07GVNQZ4S/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1537016941&sr=8-1&keywords=echoes+from+a+cobbled+street
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Echoes-Cobbled-Street-Stories-Poems-ebook/dp/B07GVNQZ4S/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1537016941&sr=8-1&keywords=echoes+from+a+cobbled+street
Sunday, 12 August 2018
Ghosts and Other Aberrations - Launched Today
My follow-up to Mysteria - An anthology of spooky and mysterious tales is out now in paperback and Kindle book
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1718126565/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1534106015&sr=8-2&keywords=ghosts+and+other+aberrations
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1718126565/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1534106015&sr=8-2&keywords=ghosts+and+other+aberrations
Friday, 29 December 2017
Mysteria - An anthology of spooky and mysterious tales - free download
FREE FOR 5 DAYS, FROM 29TH DECEMBER 2017 TO 2ND JAN 2018
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Mysteria-David-Hayes-ebook/dp/B071K39KF7/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1514562637&sr=8-1&keywords=mysteria
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Mysteria-David-Hayes-ebook/dp/B071K39KF7/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1514562637&sr=8-1&keywords=mysteria
Friday, 10 November 2017
What Has He Done Now? - by David Hayes
My first book. It's all about growing up in a North West mining and cotton weaving town. It begine when I start school in 1960 and ends around 1971 - The golden years. A nice stocking-filler for Christmas
Here's the link to the book on Amazon. You can read the first story by using the 'Look Inside' facility
Monday, 25 September 2017
Monday, 18 September 2017
Mysteria - An Anthology of Spooky and Mysterious Tales
Here's the link to my new book. Just click the link above to go to Amazon. It is available in paperback and e-book format.
Just the thing for Hallowe'en!
Sunday, 3 September 2017
What Has He Done Now? - Download Kindle Book FREE until 5th September
You can download my book What Has He Done Now? in Kindle e-book format FREE OF CHARGE until 5th September 2017. If you haven't read it, now is the time!
https://www.amazon.co.uk/What-Has-Done-Now-Childhood-ebook/dp/B01M06MNJR/ref=sr_1_1_twi_kin_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1504447234&sr=8-1&keywords=what+has+he+done+now
https://www.amazon.co.uk/What-Has-Done-Now-Childhood-ebook/dp/B01M06MNJR/ref=sr_1_1_twi_kin_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1504447234&sr=8-1&keywords=what+has+he+done+now
Thursday, 20 July 2017
Mysteria - An Anthology of Spooky and Mysterious Tales
My book is out now in both paperback and Kindle format, or you can order it through theISBN Number of 9781521790915.
Sunday, 18 June 2017
My latest book - Mysteria
The book is now out on Amazon as a Kindle book. For those of you who do not have a Kindle, you can download the app free of charge to your smartphone, laptop or PC
It has guest stories by Bernie Morris, Ann Perry, David Clarke and Lesley Hanson. I hope you enjoy it.
CLICK HERE TO VIEW OR BUY ON AMAZON
Sunday, 12 March 2017
New Book Coming Soon
A new book is in preparation as we speak from Bronwyn Editions. It will be entitled Mysteria.
Here is a sample story from the above book:
Here is a sample story from the above book:
Toy Soldier – A Ghost
Story
Sue sat at the foot of
her five year old daughter's bed. She happened to be reading her a
bedtime story. She was almost at the 'And they all lived happily ever
after' bit, when she heard a child's voice say 'Help me....please'
The voice was right outside the bedroom door. Her daughter either
hadn't heard it or was choosing to ignore it. Carry on mummy...how
does it end?' her daughter said. Sue finished the story and tucked
her in, then kissed her forehead.
Sue was about to put it
all down to tiredness when she saw a small, plastic soldier by the
bedroom door. She picked it up and recognised it as the sort that her
brother had when he was a child. 'I wonder where she found this?' she
thought to herself. She slipped it into her jeans pocket. Something
niggled at her mind as if to say that something wasn't quite right.
Once downstairs, she placed it on the fireplace to remind her to
mention it to her daughter Poppy in the morning.
It played on her mind.
She couldn't believe what she was doing, but she rang her brother
Tony. 'Hiya kid, it's me' she said to her brother. 'Hello love, how
are you?' he asked her. She told him that she was fine and then asked
him if he still had his toy soldiers. 'Why?..does Poppy want them or
something?' he asked her. She told him that she had found one at the
house and wondered if he had let Poppy play with them when she was
round at his house. 'Can't be mine' he said. 'Mum gave them to a kid
down the street when I was about fifteen'. She thanked him and they
exchanged a few more pleasantries, then she hung up.
When morning came she
woke Poppy and gave her breakfast. She then started packing her lunch
for school. 'Oh, Poppy, I found this toy soldier by your bedroom
door. Is it yours?' she asked her. Her daughter chuckled and said
'Oh, that will be Alan's'. Sue was rocked by this. She knew about
Alan, but he was her imaginary playmate when she was younger. She
hadn't mentioned him in over a year. They were running slightly late,
so there was no time to discuss it further, but Sue was definitely
not happy.
All day Sue busied
herself at work, but the toy soldier came into her mind constantly.
During their break, Sue mentioned it to her workmate Janice. Janice
had known her since they were at school together, and so knew her not
to be the hysterical or fanciful type. 'Oh bugger off Sue, you are
giving me the creeps' she said. 'She definitely meant her imaginary
playmate, and not some boy at school?' Janice said. Sue grasped at
this straw. That is what it had to be. She had misunderstood. She
thanked Janice, and they carried on with their break.
Sue collected Poppy
from school on her way home from work. As they were driving along,
Sue asked Poppy about her friend Alan at the school, and whether she
was going to give him back his toy soldier. Poppy answered her by
saying 'I don't have a friend at school called Alan, mummy'. Sue
almost swerved into a parked car. 'OK, get a grip girl' she said
inside her mind.
Sue put this down to
'just one of those things' and left it at that. Once home they had
dinner and Poppy sat to watch a little TV. Sue opened her laptop on
the kitchen table to check her emails. As she was checking her
emails, she knocked over a little sugar pot. She got up to fetch a
sheet of paper to sweep it onto. When she got back to the kitchen
table, she saw that someone had drawn a frowning face in the spilled
sugar, like an upside-down smiley. She let out a small whoop of fear.
She knew it couldn't have been Poppy, because she would have had to
pass her to get into the kitchen.
Sue grabbed Poppy and
said, 'It's Friday, let's go round to your granny's shall we?' Poppy
was delighted at this sudden and impromptu adventure. She rang her
mother and asked if they could stay there for the night, and that she
would explain why when she got there. She then quickly gathered
together a few belongings to last them the night, and then drove them
both off to her mother's house.
Her mother welcomed
them both with open arms, giving Poppy a big hug, and presenting her
with a chocolate biscuit. 'Go and get my big button tin out of the
pantry and play with it on the rug. Your mummy and I are going to
have a chat and a cup of tea' she said to Poppy. Poppy was happy to
do this, and a few moments later she was happily munching on her
biscuit and playing with the buttons.
Her mother got as far
as saying 'What on earth is....' before Sue stopped her and said
'Please mum, just listen to the full story, and please don't think I
am mad'. Sue then told her the whole tale. Her mum then looked
pensive, as if in thought. She then said 'You know that I gave birth
to a baby boy, but he was stillborn?' Sue held her mother's hand and
said 'Yes mum, you did tell me'. She then looked Sue right in the
eyes and said 'I don't think I ever told you, but we were going to
call him Alan'.
Sue was speechless at
her mother's revelation. Her mother went on to tell her that when Sue
told her that she had an imaginary playmate called Alan, it didn't
surprise her. She went on to tell her that she had caught a glimpse
from the corner of her eye of a little boy dressed in short trousers
and school uniform. 'When did you see this, mum?' Sue asked her. Her
mother told her that it was virtually every time that she babysat
Poppy.
Sue slumped back into
the kitchen chair, before saying 'And you didn't think it worth
mentioning??' Her mother said 'What was I supposed to say. Oh Poppy
has been a good little girl, she has been playing happily all day
with a dead child?' 'Fair point' Sue said, before going on to say 'I
would have thought you were going a bit senile if you had'. The joint
laughter came as a blessed relief to both of them.
'Why does he want me to
help him?' Sue said, before admonishing herself and saying 'Bloody
hell, I am starting to believe this shite'. Her mother chuckled, and
then told her that if it was indeed Alan, he wouldn't wish them any
harm. 'I told you I see him out of the corner of my eye?' her mum
said, before going on to say 'I sometimes see him standing behind me
when I look in the bathroom mirror. It looks like he is trying to say
something, but I can't hear him'. Sue never swore in front of her
mother. Not the bad words anyway. This time she broke the habit of a
lifetime. 'Fucking hell mum...firstly you are scaring me now...and
secondly...how long has this been going on?' Her mother smiled and
said 'About the same time that Poppy first mentioned him'.
'How do you know it's
Alan. Your Alan?' Sue asked her mother. 'Do you think I wouldn't
recognise my own child?' her mother answered, before continuing to
say 'Anyway, he told Poppy that he was' Sue said 'OK I am furious
about this. You should have told me' Her mother answered by saying
that she thought Poppy had told her all about it, and that it never
entered her head. 'Don't blame me if your own daughter doesn't tell
you things' she snapped back at her, before grabbing Sue's hand and
apologising profusely. Sue apologised as well, whilst saying that it
was a very fair comment. 'I am always so busy since the divorce. She
was only two when he left' she explained to her mother.
Both of them were
unaware that Poppy was now standing and looking at them both. 'Are
you talking about Alan?' she asked them. Neither of them answered.
'Well....are you?' she said. Sue said ' About this Alan...'. This was
as far as she got. 'Don't call him that mummy, he is OUR Alan, not
THIS Alan' Sue began to cry a little. Poppy came over and sat on her
knee. 'Why are you both so frightened of him?' Poppy asked them.
Sue's mother then asked Poppy what he wanted. She told them 'Alan
says he tries to talk to you, but you can't hear him. He says you are
too scared to hear him'. Her gran started to cry. She told Poppy that
tonight, if he would show himself in the bathroom mirror, that she
would listen. Poppy said 'He says he will talk to you right now if
you like, but just you'. Sue grabbed her mothers hand but her mother
said 'Tell Alan I am on my way'.
Sue's mother stood in
front of the bathroom mirror, hardly daring to open her eyes. When
she did, she saw Alan standing beside her, his hand in hers. 'Hello
mummy' he said. She heard him as clear as day, then she dissolved
into tears. 'Please dont cry mummy' Alan said. She composed herself
and apologised. 'I'm listening now darling. What is it that you want
to tell me?'
'I saw how unhappy you
were when I didn't take my earthly form. I have tried for so long to
talk to you. When Poppy could see me I was so pleased'. Alan told
her. 'I left that toy soldier for my sister to find, because she
couldn't hear me either' He then went on to tell her that he knew it
would frighten her into talking to someone, and that he and Poppy had
planned it together. 'What is it that you are so desperate to tell me
my darling?' she asked. Alan replied 'I just wanted to tell you that
I am OK and this is just my little boy shadow. Look again mummy' When
she looked into the mirror again she saw a tall, handsome and
athletic man in his prime. He smiled the broadest and happiest grin
and said to her 'I just wanted to tell you that I am fine and that I
love you mum' He then faded away.
Sue, her mother and
Poppy never saw Alan again after that day. He became far more subtle.
When Sue worried over the bills, she would feel her big brothers arm
around her shoulder. Poppy walked with an air of confidence, knowing
that her Uncle had her back at all times. Alan's mum felt him around
at all times. Sometimes she would find a little heart drawn into the
dust, and beside it a kiss.
© David Hayes
Saturday, 4 March 2017
A Love Story
Winter's Tale in Summer
Told
A sanguine moon hangs
o'er all
and paints the leaves
with dark intent.
The trees they shake
and bow their heads
in supplication, once
again.
Their boughs they
stretch to hide us all
from our own shame and
scarlet deeds.
But wait, all is not as
it seems
For there within the
glade so pure
there shines a light to
guide the soul,
and lead us through the
sorrowed times.
The creatures bay and
lap the dew
Atop the grass and
mellow ferns,
and snuffling like
truffle pigs
they hunt to stave off
hunger's teeth.
Their time upon this
earth so short
and then their passing
goes unmourned
Their body once again
returns
to soil that welcomes
every drop
of their own wild and
deep decay
that seeps into that
ground.
The light it moves with
sure intent
towards the dwelling by
the woods.
It's essence drawn by
candle-light
that shines through
windows specked with dust
Festooned with spiders
webs that gleam
Reflections from the
stars that shine
in majesty and glories
told
by each small shaft and
peck of light
The spirit has so
little time
it's message to convey.
Open up your rusting
heart
and throw the door
asunder now
Embrace the light that
stands before
your countenance and
calls to you.
Oh, when it filters
through your eyes
and seeps into your
tender heart
The tears will fall
like summer rain
as soft as thistledown
upon
your rosy cheeks so
fair with grace
and you will be
complete.
The light it comes but
once - no more!
Miss it, and the greed
inside
your bleeding heart
will eat you up
and leave you dry and
hollowed out
Like the husks from
summer's corn
The winds of winter's
dark despair
will scatter all you
hold so dear
to those four howling
deathly winds
and all that will be
left inside
is bitter, sore regret.
DH 2017
Friday, 10 February 2017
What Has He Done Now? - My Book
You can purchase copies of my book from any bookseller by quoting the ISBN number, but you can buy the book direct on Amazon by clicking on the link below. You have a choice of paperback or digital book from Kindle Books.
Wednesday, 8 February 2017
Another story from the forthcoming book
The Sickness
He was tired. That
unbelievable, bone-aching tiredness that you sometimes get. He
decided a good round tumblerful of single malt scotch was just what
was needed. A benediction for a tired mind, and a kiss for a wearied
soul. The gentle glug as the scotch poured into the welcoming glass
was like music.
People just didn't
believe him. They didn't believe that he was actually fighting for
his soul. 'It's all in your mind Roger old mate' his friends said to
him. Some had stayed overnight with him, but of course it didn't show
then did it? This snide, sinister, energy-sapping spirit was like
some kind of torturer. It deprived him of sleep. It hid in the
shadows and showed itself to no one else. He never quite got used to
that creepy sight. Just as he was falling asleep he would see the
eyes floating in the darkness, close by his bed, then the sickly
grimace. A row of closely packed together teeth. Almost needle-like.
This would lurch him back into a terrified, sweat-soaked wakefulness.
Tonight he would face
this. Tonight he would face it down – or die trying. He had no idea
how to do it, or indeed what would happen; but this stopped right
now. He didn't believe in crucifixes or the bible. He called the
bible 'A book of fairy tales'. He knew that this was real though. He
had seen it move things and damage things. He also knew that it was
in some way part of himself. That night though, he had a bible
beneath his pillow, and alongside it a kitchen knife and a small
bottle of holy water that he had taken from the font of a local
church. Well, in truth he had no idea whether it was holy or not, but
it was a weapon. The irony hadn't gone unnoticed to him that the
bottle he used had once contained whisky. 'Spirits for a spirit' he
said to himself as he filled the half pint whisky bottle. What he was
going to do with the kitchen knife he had no idea. It just looked
violent and impressive!
That night he went to
bed 'tooled up' with all his bits of kit. Right on time, just as he
was dropping off, he saw the sickly white grin in front of him. Roger
grasped the bible in both hands and in a flash, he screamed like a
soldier on bayonet practice, and venomously shouted 'God is going to
kill you' and lunged towards the face and thrust the bible into it.
He heard a whine that sounded like someone standing on a poodle's
paw. He heard something scurry behind an easy chair in the bedroom.
Roger was onto it and had ripped the top off the whisky bottle and
was throwing the water around in gay abandon. He saw it knock aside a
small table and disappear into a built-in wardrobe. This was a part
of the old house he had kept as an original feature. 'So that's where
you live is it you cowardly, squirming little shit?' He had never
felt quite as alive in years. He was fighting back. Now it was this
squirming piece of darkness that was scared. Roger pushed the easy
chair against the wardrobe door and soaked it with the remains of the
holy water.
Roger left the house
and booked into a hotel for the night to regroup. He got his first
good night's sleep in weeks. The next day he rang in sick and took
the day off work. He set out to find someone in one of the several
churches in the district. Someone who wouldn't just tell him that he
had been working too hard, or that it was all in his mind. This
proved to be quite difficult! He had gone into the fourth church
that day and had become a little bit impatient. Yet again he was
hearing the same old questions and hackneyed litany. 'Are you a
member of this church? Have you been baptised? Have you tried
praying? Now this one was asking him if he had a history of
psychiatric problems in his family!! Roger just let it all pour out.
'I always wondered what it meant to be a christian' he told the now,
wide eyed cleric. 'I now realize it means taking round the collection
plate and visiting old ladies, but the first time someone needs a
spiritual defender YOU ARE A SHIT SCARED LITTLE COWARD' Roger flung
the door open and was about to walk out of the vicar's office when he
called him back. 'Meet me back here in two hours' he heard the vicar
say.
Roger did as he was
asked. He knocked on the vicar's door. The vicar opened the door and
handed Roger a couple of aluminium flight cases. 'Here, carry these
for me. We will go in my car' the vicar said. Roger didn't ask any
questions and followed the vicar to his car. The vicar asked Roger
for his address, and so he told him. 'It's 82 Fordham Street' Roger
said. The vicar looked at Roger for a few seconds, before closing his
eyes and quietly swearing under his breath. 'You do actually know
what happened there don't you?' the vicar asked. Roger said that he
hadn't a clue.
The vicar went on to
tell him that Mrs Rogers had lived there. She was a parishioner of
his. He then went on to tell him that Mrs Rogers had come to him and
told him of the exact same happenings. 'And what did you do for her?'
Roger asked. The vicar didn't answer. 'I said – what did you do to
help. What did you do for her?' Roger repeated himself. Still the
vicar said nothing. Then Roger saw that he was weeping. 'Oh don't
tell me you did nothing...please don't tell me that' Roger said. The
vicar told him 'We believed that she was going senile. Seeing
things'. Roger asked him what had happened to her. Between sobs, the
vicar told him that she had hanged herself in the little built-in
wardrobe. Roger's blood ran cold. 'You do know that's where the sly
little bastard lives don't you? He said. The vicar just nodded.
They both arrived at
Roger's place. The vicar laid the cases down on Roger's bed and
opened them. 'What's all this?' Roger said, as he surveyed the case
full of electronic gadgets. 'Just because I am a vicar, it doesn't
mean I live in the dark ages. These are the tools that I use to hunt
ghosts with'. The vicar said. Roger didn't know whether to laugh or
cry. Who was this person that he had invited back to his place? The
vicar took out an EMF meter and started walking around the room.
Roger just let him get on with it.
'How did you drive it
back and into here?' the vicar asked whilst looking at the chair that
was still jammed against the wardrobe door. It was now Roger's turn
to feel embarrassed. 'I shoved a bible into it's face and screamed at
it that God was going to kill it'. Both men looked at each other and
fell into nervous but uproarious laughter. Their laughing was stopped
immediately when they heard a regular thud, thud, thud noise coming
from the wardrobe. 'It doesn't like laughter, does it?' Roger said.
The vicar appeared deep in thought. After a little while the vicar
spoke. 'I think we are dealing with a demon of some kind' he said.
Roger was now at the
very ragged edge of his beliefs. Well to be honest he was way, way
past the edge and into totally new territory. A year ago he would
have been rolling around laughing – but not any more! The vicar
went on to explain his theory. 'It is my belief that evil is a real
force, and that evil can attract evil. If enough evil collects, it
can turn into an existence. An entity if you will. A sentient being'.
Roger was in no mood to argue. 'What do we do with it then?' Roger
asked. The vicar told him that they had to try and break it back down
into it's constituent components and banish it.
'Switch all the lights
on and draw back the curtains. This thing hates the light' the vicar
said. Roger did as he was asked. Roger laughed a forced laugh and
said 'Not so tough now are you – bastard?' This brought forth
another series of thuds from the wardrobe. 'Let's have a sing-song
too' Roger said, whilst turning on the radio. It was tuned to his
favourite channel of Radio 2. The thuds became louder. 'At least keep
in time to the music you piece of nothing'. The entity sensed that
this was it's requiem. It was it's funeral music.
It was then that Roger
heard a voice in the room. 'Don't do this son. This isn't right' it
said. He turned and saw his father standing there. Oh how he missed
his father. Roger was about to move towards him when the vicar stood
between them and blocked his path. 'What is your name then?' the
vicar asked him. The ghost merely glowered back at him. 'That isn't
your father, Roger' the vicar told him. When Roger looked again, he
could see his father's face morphing into the needle toothed entity
before finally dissipating. 'He is on the run. He will try these
tricks. Believe nothing it says' the vicar said.
The vicar opened
another case and took out a bible, some incense, two crucifixes, and
a bottle of holy water. 'Wear this' the vicar said. Roger did as he
was told. The vicar lit the incense and began incanting prayers. The
thudding noise from the wardrobe had now been joined by the sound of
dozens of voices. Each voice issuing forth screams and filthy words.
'Help me move this chair and then stand behind me' the vicar said.
The chair was moved and the dorr was opened. There in the corner it
sat. It was in some distress. There appeared to be something oozing
from it. It looked like black blood. The vicar carried on incanting
prayers and spraying the area liberally with holy water. The entity
seemed to sort of implode, and make a noise a little like the
squealing of brakes on a car. 'It's gone' the vicar said. The whole
room seemed lighter. It was as if the room was filled with sunshine.
Roger and the vicar hugged each other. 'I owed that bastard one' the
vicar said, then laughed. Roger nodded and said 'We put a wrong to
rights didn't we?' The vicar said 'God's peace be with you Roger'.
He packed away his equipment and left.
Roger felt weary and
emotional with the whole thing. He also felt elated. They had beaten
it. It was gone. He took down a tumbler from the kitchen shelf and
poured himself a good measure of single malt from a bottle he had
been saving for a special occasion. 'If ever there was one this must
be it' he thought to himself. He walked back into the living room and
the glass fell from his hand. There in the corner he espied the
gleaming, needle-like teeth. They were tinged with blood. On the
floor beside it were pieces of the vicars bloodied clothing. 'Now
it's my turn to play' the demon said.
© David Hayes
© David Hayes
Monday, 6 February 2017
Here we are at last!
At last I have decided to put together a small repository for all my scribblings, adventures and any other business. I cannot say how often I will be updating this, but hopefully quite often
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