There is no train to check and I'm soon back in the warmth. The mechanical distress I've just witnessed has put from mind the sound of the gibbet, and for this I am grateful. But Captain Ned is not the only one to haunt these moors: there are others. Tales I could tell you of them, their nature and history, but I have one of my own, and to tell it, I must first give short account of this place, this lonely signal-box on this windswept railway line. Only then will you understand the terror that now stalks my every night here.

Purveyor of tales of the Supernatural and just plain Off-the-wall