SLAINS CASTLE. CRUDEN BAY. SCOTLAND
A SIMPLE TALE
The castle of Slains,
where Darkness reigned,
Dracula too, it’s said,
as Stoker penned his greatest book,
deep in my past,
dungeon deep,
discovering the haunted pleasure of those ghostly times,
of dread,
running home with dusk at my back,
waiting for that hand to grasp my neck,
to shiver in the grip of one clawed hand,
never to turn around and face the evil I was fed.
My youth now gone,
but the terror of that night remains,
the North Sea blowing storms,
howling winds,
shipwrecks on the shore,
so many people having passed this way before.
Then on summer days,
bravehearts,
fear banished in the burning sun,
and the simple things of boyhood times,
climbing the towered walls,
running wild in the concrete corridors,
free of the adult’s world,
bucking the devil’s paw,
lay at my feathered bed.
juandecadaqués 