Ghost stories and strange tales

I really loathe my pointy teeth, They stick out when I smile, Thank god I can’t be photographed, My selfies would be vile. My skin’s a deathly shade of pale, My breath would kill a cat, There’s woodlice living in my cape, My trousers smell of rat. My nails are sharp like razors, My eyes are bloodshot red, I once was drop-dead gorgeous, Now women just drop dead. My jet-black hair is streaked with grey, My six pack’s disappeared, The zombies laugh when I walk past, The werewolves think I’m weird. So please send your donations, Support this poor dead freak, Ten pounds will buy me makeup, (I only wear Clinique).

Stravinsky, Shubert and Tchaikovsky. Jacob's violin honoured their memory in the cold street for an hour. Perfect pitch, not a single note missed, not a semibreve off-key.   Beads of sweat peppered his collar despite the chill. His concentration never wavered; the intensity of sound heightened by a sense of sweet revenge, edging closer with every sweep of his bow.   Catgut, metal, horsehair and wood. Sticky resin irritated his skin, yet on he played until the last strains of the Shubert melody died away. On the final note, the metal e-string snapped and recoiled like a spring. Pain seared through his fingers as the string curled around the violin’s neck. Always the e-string.   In the distance, Big Ben struck seven O’clock. Jacob bent down, inspecting the empty fedora hat at his feet. The commuters of London showed no love for his music, but he played for himself, not for them. His violin returned to its case; Jacob walked the short distance to the Cellar bar he had ch...

Joram’s eyes flicked open as a rat’s sharp teeth bit into his leg. At 2am, the Calais Jungle held terrors both real and imagined, but there was no mistaking the searing pain. Joram slammed his fist down on the rat’s head and winced as its skull cracked. Fumbling for his torch, the rat still attached, he shone the dull beam of light, pulled apart its jaws and threw it in the corner of the shack. Hasan was still sleeping, and Joram noticed a gathering pool of water next to his son’s pillow. He would scavenge some tarpaulin in the morning after taking Hasan to his makeshift school.   At 8am, he and Hasan joined the breakfast queue in the aid workers' tent. Most days, they had bread and jam, on rare occasions a croissant. Calais was a dump, but at least they wouldn’t starve. The Jungle was a melting pot of nationalities and languages, united by the dream of a better future. If Joram could get regular work, he would smuggle himself and Hasan to England, even though it might take ye...

As I’d predicted, the office party was rubbish. I had caught the last tube home, wishing I was already in bed. My carriage was packed with late-night revellers, but I manage to nab one of the last few seats. My eyes were closing in blissful anticipation of a quick doze when a man in his early sixties sat down next to me. Apart from his lumpy physique, no doubt the result of a dubious lifestyle, the only thing of note was his oversized suitcase.            The black canvas cover was fraying at the sides and covered in unpleasant-looking stains. I didn’t want it near me, but he attempted to park in front of him, spreading his legs on either side to accommodate it. There was little room for anyone to get past and he seemed oblivious of how annoying he was.  Worst of all, he wanted to chat. . There was little room for anyone to get past and he seemed oblivious of how annoying he was.  Worst of all, he wanted to chat. ‘A good evening, was...

While other girls worshipped David and Donny, my bedroom was adorned with photos of my favourite actor, Anton Walbrook. I didn’t have many friends, but it didn’t matter, as my mum and I were always so close. At weekends, she’d put the kettle on we’d snuggle up on the sofa and watch old movies. Anton starred in our favourite films: tales of obsessive love, brainwashed Nazis and suicidal ballerinas. He was always so handsome and mysterious. I loved his neat moustache, luscious dark hair and soft Germanic accent. He was my first real crush, despite inconveniently dying a decade earlier.  As I grew older, I got a job at a university. I kept myself to myself, but I enjoyed my work. At lunchtime, I would head to the library and study the film books and borrow DVDs to watch at home later. But then one day, mum had a stroke and she died two months later. It was a huge shock. I decided to take some time off, while the students were away, hoping it would give me the chance to adjust.  W...

Jackie’s a sinister rabbit You won’t see him hop – he just creeps He tucks himself under your pillow And nibbles your neck while you sleep. On Sundays, he sidles down chimneys His beady eyes watching the coast Then he’ll sneak in and your turn off your oven And devour your best Sunday Roast. You might see a glimpse of a bobtail, Or hear the faint gnawing of teeth But brother, if you want to confront him Tell your sister to go buy a wreath. Where did he come from – nobody knows He’s a changeling, a devil-may-care Jackie’s a sinister rabbit And he’s sitting right under your chair…

For over one hundred years, actors and filmmakers  have headed to the bright lights of Hollywood with the dream of making it big in pictures. Yet for every tale of overnight stardom, there are countless more of disappointment and failure, for behind the glitz and glamour, there is a darker side to Hollywood. Certainly, the location appears to have gained a sinister reputation. Paranormal Investigator Nick Nocerino, former director of the Institute of Psychic and Hypnotic Studies once declared there were more homes afflicted by evil entities in the Hollywood area than anywhere else in California. Aleister Crowley is rumoured to have formed a black magic coven there in the 1920s and the Founder of the Church of Satan, Anton Le Vey held court with movie stars, most notably Jayne Mansfield, later died in a horrific car accident. Hollywood was also the backdrop to Charles Manson’s hippie cult murders which led to the deaths of seven people, including Sharon Tate, the actress wife ...