Spooky Work­shop

The People's Friend - - Your Letters -

We held one of our Septem­ber Short Story Writ­ing Work­shops at the Bar Con­vent in York, founded in 1686. It’s an old build­ing, with lots of his­tory and doors that we heard knocks at or that mys­te­ri­ously opened with no-one there. That in­spired one of our aspir­ing writ­ers to pen this poem – and she hap­pens to live in Ceme­tery Road! Blos­som Street Con­vent near the Bar, Where spir­its meet from near and far, And one of whom, a sprightly lass, Does much en­joy a “Writ­ers’ Class”. Though she could freely move through brick, She likes to play her party trick, And open­ing the door quite wide So silently she comes in­side. She sits and lis­tens. Oh, so still, And never has to pay the bill! And when her in­ter­est some­times drops, Why – up she gets, and out she pops.

It is her fun and now her craft

To cause dis­tur­bance and a draught. Was she a writer dur­ing life? Or just frus­trated, play­ing wife? So when we have our “Last En­core” Will we re­turn to have some more? Life is a puz­zle, that’s for cer­tain – Maybe there is no fi­nal cur­tain! Ms M.A-H., Lan­cashire.

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