:: Adam Zed's Blog ::

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And so here we are, at the end of another Ghost Story Advent. For our final tale, I very strategically chose ‘Martin’s Close’ by M.R. James. Tonight, on BBC Four at 10pm, Mark Gatiss’s adaptation of this brilliant story will be broadcast. I’m so grateful to Gatiss for (seemingly) fighting for the return of this wonderful tradition of a televisual ghost story on Christmas eve. I’m delighted, too, that he’s returned to the master, M.R. James, as the source material. A few years ago, Gatiss adapted ‘The Tractate Middoth’, another of James’s less known works. It was fantastic and really reminded me of the old BBC stories of the seventies. I can’t wait to get cosy, with a glass of something tasty, and watch the tale be brought to life. 

This is a fantastically gripping story, too. It is, in essence, a court case. Imagine all of the thrills of a great legal drama combined with the nerve-shredding chills of James’s finest work. It is the story of Ann Clark and her dreadful murder at the hands of one George Martin. It plays out almost like a play script and has some surprisingly humorous moments, particularly from the grouchy Judge Jeffries. However, the ghostly moments are thoroughly haunting -  the scene with the cupboard, in particular, is very scary indeed. It’s a moving, realistic and memorable tale. 

I’ve never read a ghost story writer that works quite so effectively as James’s. His work is so fantastically evocative and the several pages of banal admin he often includes only add to the experience of reading his tales. It’s a pleasure to include a few of his each Ghost Story advent.

And that’s it! I hope you’ve enjoyed this run-down of twenty-four ghostly tales. Do stay in touch with me via the Facebook group. Have a Merry Christmas. Oh, and I’d love to see you at one our performances in 2020! If you love ghost stories, our show Upon The Stair is now on sale. It’s touring early 2020 in Halifax, Salisbury and Harrogate. Grab your tickets here.

Read the story here. Join the Facebook page here   “The circumstances I am about to relate to you have truth to recommend them. They happened to myself, and my recollection of them is as vivid as if they had taken place only yesterday.” So begins today’s tale. A few months ago I started reading ‘The Phantom Coach’ by Amelia B. Edwards. For some reason, I didn’t finish it and so I picked it back up again for Ghost Story Advent. Wow. What a penultimate tale for this year’s run-down. 

It’s the story of a newly-wed man who gets lost on the Yorkshire moors. After encountering a man trekking across the barren landscape, he demands to be taken to his master’s house. There he encounters a strange old philosopher-cum-alchemist who, in a world-weary polemic, tells the stranger his theories and hypotheses. After giving the man a dram to send him on his way, the newly-wed sets out to catch the post coach to get him home to his wife before midnight. And on this coach nothing short of a waking horror awaits him. 

I can hardly describe how much I love this story. It is so accomplished and so brilliantly constructed and I cannot wait to re-read it. The macabre details thrill and mortify; the atmosphere whips like bracing wind and chills much the same. The final scene, before the denouement, is absolutely horrifying - the stuff of nightmares. I’m really excited to be able to share it as part of GSA and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.  If you love ghost stories, our show Upon The Stair is now on sale. It’s touring early 2020 in Halifax, Salisbury and Harrogate. Grab your tickets here.

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Day 22 brings us to ‘The Old House in Vauxhall Walk’ by Charlotte Riddell. This is a pleasantly-chilling little creeper that I’d not read before. It begins with a privileged man who has been abandoned by his father and cast out onto the streets. While wandering around Lambeth, he happens upon an acquaintance who is apparently moving out of his home in Vauxhall Walk. After being offered shelter in the mostly-empty house, the young man has a vivid dream which bleeds into reality and reveals a violent incident in the house’s past.

It’s a cosy thing, this one. Really fun to read and the spooky moments inspire a gasp or two. There’s some fabulously atmospheric writing at work that really draw the walls of the story in on the reader: “The horror of the silent house grew and grew upon him. He could hear the beating of his own heart in the dead quietude which reigned from garret to cellar.“

The violent moments are brutal and the lingering spirit is suitable unsettling. There’s an interesting undercurrent, too, about cowardice and bravery and proving one’s worth. It is, really, a story about a man who feels the need to prove himself to his father. I’m certainly keen to check out more of Riddell’s ghostly works.  If you love ghost stories, our show Upon The Stair is now on sale. It’s touring early 2020 in Halifax, Salisbury and Harrogate. Grab your tickets here.

Watch the trailer here.

The Orphanage (El Orfanato) is one of the best horror movies I’ve ever seen. I saw it at the cinema back in 2007 and it immediately ascended to my top 10. I have been recommending it ever since. It has everything: a creepy old house, a strange, masked figure, intrigue, gripping and melancholic backstory and plenty of hair-raising set pieces. 

It’s the story of Laura who, now married with a son returns to the orphanage where she grew up. After she reopens the place, her son, Simón, begins to talk of a new friend called Tomás, who wears a sackcloth mask. After discovering the truth about his own past, Simón goes missing and Laura must find a way to get him back while fending off the ghosts of the old house. 

It’s a remarkable story and a remarkable performance from Belén Rueda (Laura). As well as being creepy as hell, it’s absolutely heartbreaking in places and beautifully realised. I remember watching a particular scene - set in the bedroom - and thinking “here’s a director who really knows his craft”. If you haven’t seen The Orphanage, I highly recommend it. It doesn’t quite have the cosiness of a Christmas ghost story but it’s memorable and powerful piece of cinema which I think will become a favourite to any ghost story fan. 

If you love ghost stories, our show Upon The Stair is now on sale. It’s touring early 2020 in Halifax, Salisbury and Harrogate. Grab your tickets here.

Ever since reading ‘The Kit Bag’ a few years ago, Algernon Blackwood has shot into my top 5 scariest ghost story writers list. He’s a real virtuoso of the craft. The Wood of the Dead is a great, unusual little tale. It has a real modern almost cinematic edge, too, with hints of folk horror throughout. 

Our narrator opens the tale by describing a country inn at which he has stopped during a country ramble. Here, he encounters a shadowy fellow in the corner and, courtesy of the inn-keeper’s daughter, learns of the the fabled ‘wood of the dead’ and the curse which surrounds it. I was surprised by the direction that the tale took. I was delighted - in a most grim way - by the strange effect the wood has on its victims. One part raises the hairs on my neck on each reading: “A grove of pine trees behind the farm - the girl pointed them out to me on the slope of the hill - he said was the Wood of the Dead, because just before anyone died in the village he saw them walk into that wood, singing.” 

That last detail. So creepy. There’s something of Britt Ekland’s character in The Wicker Man (indeed, I’d be surprised if this story wasn’t familiar to Robin Hardy, director of that particular masterpiece). There’s also something chillingly banal about the action later in the tale. There’s that wonderful intrigue which folklore always inspires and the way everything comes together is very satisfying and very unsettling. It’s a brilliantly put together story and once that I’m glad to share as we enter the final furlong of Ghost Story Advent. 

If you love ghost stories, our show Upon The Stair is now on sale. It’s touring early 2020 in Halifax, Salisbury and Harrogate. Grab your tickets here.

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Edith Wharton is another of my very favourite ghost story writers. Her work is smart, sharp and political. Any opportunity to share and celebrate her chilling tales is a very good thing. Some Gothic writers excel at story. Others, at creepy vignettes and atmosphere. Others still at those unshakable moments of uncanny which haunt us for many years to follow. Wharton is accomplished on all fronts. 

This is the first time I’d read Miss Mary Pask and I loved every mist-soaked page of it. The first line is like diving immediately into a plunge pool: 

“It was not till the following spring that I plucked up courage to tell Mrs. Bridgeworth what had happened to me that night at Morgat.” 

We know something horrible has taken place and now we’re hurtling through the sentences and paragraphs to find out exactly what. 

Our narrator tells us of his friendship with one Mrs Bridgeworth and, at length, of her relationship with her sister, the titular Mary Pask. When staying in Morgat, the narrator is reminded of Miss Pask and sets out to visit her in her remote dwelling. This, really, is the size of the plot. But its in the fraying fabrics of the relationships, the subtle observations of character and the oozing, murky atmosphere where Wharton demonstrates her genius for storytelling. The tale puts me in mind, in places, of ‘A Christmas Carol’ and of Marjorie Bowen’s incredible ‘The Crown Derby Plate’. There’s the jangling sense of uncanny as (what we think) the truth of the situation is revealed. 

The fog comes to represent a sense of discombobulation and confusion and, indeed, the tale trades heavily on keeping its reader in the dark. Mary is forgotten, in more than one way, and this is a real source of tragedy in the story, right up until the last beat. The scenes in the house are delightfully creepy and the final revelation is both strange, satisfying and, yet, bamboozling. It’s was a joy to read. 

If you love ghost stories, our show Upon The Stair is now on sale. It’s touring early 2020 in Halifax, Salisbury and Harrogate. Grab your tickets here.

Read the story here Join the Facebook page here   Here’s an odd one. Everyone likes a good séance story, right? Well, our 18th instalment of Ghost Story Advent is just that. Arthur Conan Doyle wrote some stunning, ghostly work. My favourite, perhaps, is ‘The Captain of the Polestar’ which I covered a year or two ago. That one is a melancholy and moody tale of loss and interminable grief. And then there’s this. ‘Playing with Fire’.

It begins brilliantly:

“I cannot pretend to say what occurred on the 14th of April last at No. 17, Badderly Gardens. Put down in black and white, my surmise might seem too crude, too grotesque, for serious consideration.“

Indeed. That familiar, cosy, confessional style that many ghost stories adopt is the perfect way in to this ultimately strange tale. After this into, the story then proceeds as a particularly effective story about a seance. It creaks and it creeps and has bags of atmosphere. Then it takes a rather original and unexpected turn. To say more would be to spoil it. Just... have a read.

On first reading, I found it a little ridiculous... but on a second, even knowing what was ahead, I found it actually quite horrifying. There’s something about the might and power of what is conjured that is quite awesome and frightening. There’s a violence in the descriptions which is very powerful - the reference to the disruption and destruction of the room is surprisingly effective, too. Whatever else, this tale is certainly unexpected. What did you think?

If you love ghost stories, our show Upon The Stair is now on sale. It’s touring early 2020 in Halifax, Salisbury and Harrogate. Grab your tickets here.

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Every year I include several M.R. James stories in Ghost Story Advent and I allude to the BFI boxset of ghost stories made for the BBC, beginning in 1968 with the great Jonathan Miller’s adaptation of ‘Oh, Whistle, and I’ll Come to You, My Lad’. The films, in their own way, are all wonderful. Dated in places and some are more affective than others but they have a creepy, cosy, uncanny atmosphere that I love to revisit every Christmas. They are so bold, too, in style and content. I really urge you to buy the collection. It’s pricey, but worth every penny.  Earlier this year, I got hold of Dead of Night, another BFI DVD collection. It contains three episodes of an anthology TV series from the 70s. The first episode - ‘The Exorcism’ - fits beautifully into that same televisual niche that shows such as Inside No.9 now fill -  a different, self-contained tale each week. This is the story of a group of friends who get together for Christmas. After a power cut in the cottage, strange and gruesome occurrences start to plague the group and the terrible history of the place is slowly revealed. 

The writing of this play is extraordinary. Bizarre in places, self-indulgent in others. It’s more like a stage play than a TV episode, with its slow place and long, lingering set pieces. But, again, its boldness is to be applauded and admired. There are some great jumpy moments (the ice cube experiment - which has continued to freak me out since seeing it!) and the final climax is so surprising and so horrible that I’m sort of lost for words that it was allowed on TV. You may disagree; after all, fear is subjective. But the image has lingered and I’m actually somewhat wary of returning to it for a while. 

Also - it’s always nice to see Clive Swift doing a turn! Do let me know what you think of this, if you get a chance to see it.  If you love ghost stories, our show Upon The Stair is now on sale. It’s touring early 2020 in Halifax, Salisbury and Harrogate. Grab your tickets here.

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Today’s story is another by the very brilliant E. Nesbit. I wasn’t going to include another by her (though I’m so glad of this opportunity to do so)  but then I spotted this version of ‘Hurst of Hurstcote’ on BBC Sounds. Have a listen...

This is the story of John Hurst, a student mesmerist and dabbler in the occult. Hurst is quite the cad on campus and viewed suspiciously by many of his male classmates and colleagues. Much to the chagrin of our narrator, Bernard, Hurst begins a relationship with Kate Danvers and, after university, marries her and retires to his family pile of Hurstcote. After a confession from Kate - with whom Bernard is still, evidently, in love - that Hurst has hypnotised her many times, her health begins to deteriorate. After her untimely death, Hurst’s grief manifests as ravings and claims of visions of his lost wife. Then comes Hurst’s own confession, which may explain why the two mens’ love is being prevented from her eternal rest. 

It is a chilling, beautifully written story. It has a feminist allegory at the heart of the tale, too, which makes it all-the-more compelling and engrossing. The horror, here, comes from a man so controlling and possessive of his wife that he believes even her soul is his to claim and use as a possession. Her lack of autonomy and agency at the hands of her husband is chilling. The resolution is grim and ambiguous (a classic Nesbit device) and may reveal more about the male gaze than the realm of the supernatural. A fantastic story which seems to reimagine and challenge Edgar Poe’s ‘The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar’ and, perhaps, even ‘The Fall of the House of Usher’. It’s well worth your time. 

If you love ghost stories, I am touring my adaptation of A Christmas Carol with my theatre company The Book of Darkness & Light this December. Also, my show Upon The Stair is now on sale. It’s touring early 2020 in Halifax, Salisbury and Harrogate. Grab your tickets here

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Another M.R. James belter. ‘A School Story’ - along with another of my absolute favourites, ‘Wailing Well’ - was apparently written for children. If you know these tales, this is quite surprising, because they do not pull back on the grisliness nor the horror.

The tale begins in a stuffy-enough way: “Two men in a smoking-room were talking of their private-school days” and then gently proceeds into a story about a recollection of a school teacher, McLeod, who makes the classic ghost story protagonist error of taking an item of antiquary that he had no right to be in possession of. Then follows, of course the classic Jamesian whallop…

There are some delicious, heart-stilling moments in this short tale. For example, the first real glimpse of the ghoul: “…there was a man sitting or kneeling on Sampson’ window-sill, and looking in, and I thought he was beckoning…” For me, though, the epilogue of this tale is everything. It’s so final, so brutal, so satisfyingly uncanny. If you haven’t read this one, do. If you have, read it again. The devil is in the detail with James’s stories and this one has more to offer with every next visit. If you love ghost stories, our show Upon The Stair is now on sale. It’s touring early 2020 in Halifax, Salisbury and Harrogate. Grab your tickets here.

Read the story here. 

Before we begin: this is a genuinely disturbing story. If you’re easily upset by horror, don’t read it. I don’t think I’ve ever added that warning before in Ghost Story Advent, but on re-reading this macabre, short tale I felt I needed to. The story lulls and then strikes like a viper. 

It begins as a story about a child who, from a very early age, appears to have an irrational fear of the cellar and cellar door; a theme to which it’s easy to relate. But, it gradually moves into a darker place and the denouement is horrifying. 

I love the style of the tale. Lines such as “When Tommy learned to creep, he lost no time in leaving the kitchen” are so carefully by subtly constructed that it would be easy to ignore Keller’s skill in constructing such an atmospheric tale. There’s something fairy tale-like about the story, too, which is one of the reasons why the climax is so raw and affecting - it feels almost out of place in such a lyrical, innocent-seeming thing. 

Is it a ghost story? Perhaps; perhaps not. It certainly seems less cosy than a ghost story as it progresses, but begins with that pleasing, creeping sense of dread so familiar in this genre. In my writing workshops, I often explore this idea of ‘what is a ghost story’. The best answer I can come up with is: ‘you know one when you see one... mostly’. See for yourself. 

If you love ghost stories, I am touring my adaptation of A Christmas Carol with my theatre company The Book of Darkness & Light this December. Also, my show Upon The Stair is now on sale. It’s touring early 2020 in Halifax, Salisbury and Harrogate. Grab your tickets here:

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There’s a melancholy at the heart of today’s ghost story. ‘The Library Window’ by Margaret Oliphant is the story of a young woman who, while at her aunt’s house, becomes entranced and obsessed by a window on the opposite side of the street. When the contents of the room begin to be revealed to her over time, a tragic, grisly history of the room’s former occupant begins to come to light.

It’s a lengthy tale, but worth your time and investment. Oliphant is a wonderful storyteller and her drawing of characters is masterful. The mystery at the heart of this story is what makes it. And, as for how it is resolved, I was left with some questions which enriched my experience rather than diminished it. The character of Lady Carnbee - with her diamond ring that bites - is a fascinating one, enshrouded (almost literally) in darkness and intrigue. The fevered, climactic realisation on our protagonist’s part about the fate of the young man is very raw and moving. There’s a real poetry in the storytelling, too, which makes each sentence a treat to read. 

It doesn’t take too much of an analytical brain to realise this is a story about societal oppression of women in the Victorian era. There’s a sense of gaslighting (to use a more contemporary term) on the part of those who surround our protagonist and a questioning of what she sees vs. what she ought to see. Like with Edith Wharton’s ghost stories, this extra layer makes the tale all the more rich and fascinating; not to mention resonant and important. 

If you love ghost stories, our show Upon The Stair is now on sale. It’s touring early 2020 in Halifax, Salisbury and Harrogate. Grab your tickets here:

Read the story here. Join the Ghost Story Advent Facebook Group.

Today is an important, perhaps even momentous day in the UK. A Christmas Carol felt like a very appropriate choice for Ghost Story Advent. Having recently adapted Dickens’ classic tale of Scrooge and his eventual redemption, I’ve come to realise how incredible the original novella is. So moving, so apt and, at times, riddled with grisly, gothic horror. There are, too, many lessons we could learn from it. 

It is the story of Ebenezer Scrooge, a rich and miserly businessman who is visited by his deceased partner, Jacob Marley - now a moaning, roaming spirit tethered by a dreadful chain. Marley’s warning that Scrooge must change his ways to avoid a similar fate unleashes visits from three spirits, Past, Present and Yet-To-Come who all have lessons for the small-hearted old miser to learn.

Each Christmas there are so many versions of A Christmas Carol on offer. Many of which are incredible (Alastair Simm, Patrick Steward, The Muppets...). But I’d urge you to go back to the original text. Scenes such as Scrooge’s encounter with his young sister, his break-up with Belle (for my money, the best break-up scene in all of English literature), his observations of the Cratchit family, the ‘meagre, scowling, ragged, wolfish’ children called Want and Ignorance, his coming face-to-face with his own body are all so brilliantly and humanely drawn that it’s no wonder this story has endured. 

It’s incredibly rich and rewarding. It’s a story about choosing kindness over selfishness, thinking of society, not just the individual, taking off one’s blinkers and opening up one’s heart to our ‘fellow passengers to the grave’; those on our doorstep and beyond who need our help, our support, our love. Of banishing ignorance, even if - in any way - it brings us gain while others are denied common comforts and necessities. It’s a story that shows us that our actions have an impact on those around us and that if those with privilege act peevishly and cynically, the many suffer greatly. It asks us to consider how we might feel if we were brought face to face with those less well off than us because of the decisions we have taken. If literature has the power to inform, teach, move, sway, even, I hope that this tale is fresh in the hearts of everyone voting today. 

If you’d like to see our version of this classic tale this December, you can find info and book tickets here.

Read the story here. Join the Ghost Story Advent Facebook Group.

E.F. Benson is one of my favourite ghost story writers. And if you don’t know his work, dive in, and you’ll soon find he’s one of your faves, too. I still maintain that ‘The Room in the Tower’ is one of the scariest works of literature ever. It kept me up for hours, the first time I read it. 

Here’s another excellent, creepy gem from this master of the macabre. The set-up: two old friends, Dr. Asheton and Louis Fielder, who come to live together in an open-plan house. But, something else appears to be present in the house and it may not be at all pleasant. 

Benson is wonderful at ramping up the tension so that when the real ghoulish hits come along, we’re already in a slightly frantic state. As with many others of his tales, this story looks closely at the idea of knowledge, belief, scepticism and occultism. It seems like it might walk a certain, cosy line but ends up being something far nastier and (oddly) more satisfying.

By the time we get to the first climax, we’re already so engrossed and invested that, regardless of how strange and fantastical the tale becomes, we follow the gruesome trail and, simply, accept. 

Benson’s back-catalogue is substantial and there are way more hits than misses in his impressive body of ghost stories. I recommend grabbing Night Terrors, his collected ghost stories. There’s also an excellent podcast by Richard Crowest, who selects and reads some of Benson’s tales. 

If you love ghost stories, our show Upon The Stair is now on sale. It’s touring early 2020 in Halifax, Salisbury and Harrogate. Grab your tickets here:

Read the story here.  Join the Ghost Story Advent Facebook Group.

Ellen Wood’s melancholic ‘Reality or Delusion’ begins with the immortal line ‘This is a ghost story. Every word of it is true.’ Though, now, an all-too familiar opening, it gives us that crackle of excitement and, for me at least, sends me into the story grinning wickedly. ‘Reality or Delusion’ a relatively simple tale of jealousy, betrayal and crime in the small community of North Crabb. The writing has a pleasing anecdotal quality which lends it the air of being told by a close friend or acquaintance - it’s a neat trick and, when pulled off effectively, makes the yarn all the more engrossing. 

This is the story of Daniel Ferrar and the woman to whom he is engaged to be married, Maria Lease. Into the community comes Harriet Roe and Daniel’s wandering affections are suddenly split between the two women. It is a beautiful character drama which moves slowly but hooks from that first inviting sentence. There’s a sadness and a frustration in the character of Maria which burns at the centre of the story. The bad treatment of her on Daniel’s part is so carefully drawn that we almost forget that this is a ghost story until the last few pages. Indeed, this feels like a secondary consideration for the author, but it hardly matters in a story so well told and with characters so well rendered. 

All of that said, the more supernatural scenes and descriptions towards the end are chilling and although the climax isn’t particularly surprising it induces that cold knot in the stomach, a feat which only the very best ghost story writers can accomplish. 

If you love ghost stories, our show Upon The Stair is now on sale. It’s touring early 2020 in Halifax, Salisbury and Harrogate. Grab your tickets here.

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Here is the first non-ghost story of Ghost Story Advent 2019! They pop up occasionally either a) because the story is masquerading as a ghost story (i.e. it appears in a ghost story collection) or b) it has all of the atmosphere and hallmarks of a ghost story and I feel it’s too delicious not to share.

‘Tarnhelm’ by Hugh Walpole falls into the latter camp. It does, in fact, fit snugly into another genre, but to tell you which is almost to ruin the story. There’s another reason for including this, too: Walpole is one of the finest ghost story writers I’ve ever read. Everything I pick up by him is a joy. His stories are so rich and have such interesting subtexts that I find myself going back to him endlessly.

This is a tale about a neglected young man who goes to stay with his remote (geographically, familiarly and emotionally) uncles. It’s a story about fear, otherness and ostracisation. It’s also a story about the hidden dangers of those who are, at their core, ultimately predatory. There’s a tonne of atmosphere in this gothic tale and plenty of strange tension to boot. The narrator’s loneliness is easy to associate and empathise with - his bookishness and longing for acceptance, friendship and love is surprisingly moving.

There’s something troubling and awkward about the relationships in ‘Tarnhelm’, due, in part, to the narrator’s age and vulnerability; it’s something I haven’t been able to fully understand or reconcile. But it’s a story that digs deep in terms of its exploration of the interaction between those in positions of power and those reliant on the kindness and decency of their elders. I can’t wait to hear what you make of it. 

If you love ghost stories, I am touring my adaptation of A Christmas Carol with my theatre company The Book of Darkness & Light this December. Also, my show Upon The Stair is now on sale. It’s touring early 2020 in Halifax, Salisbury and Harrogate. Grab your tickets here:

Read the story here: http://gutenberg.net.au/ebooks06/0605771h.html

Who doesn’t enjoy a story about a locked-up, empty room? Then, you’re in lucky with ‘The Everlasting Club’ by Arthur Gray. This is a curious little story about a private club at Jesus College, Cambridge. Led by the shadowy Alan Dermot and having a membership of only seven members, the club is like a cross between The Chit-Chat Club (where M.R. James would share his ghost stories on Christmas eve) and the notorious Bullingdon Club. But there’s a ghastly supernatural to this particular clique as its strange regulations bind its members to the club, in both life and death.

The tale has an administrative quality which lends it a creepy veracity. The devil is very much in the detail, here, and at just five pages in length it is crying out for a second read to really wring out the terror. There’s a haunting (blink-and-you’ll-miss-it) climax which, in the dry context of the story, works effectively. There’s also a chilling allegory about the behaviour of young people binding then, eternally, to the poor decisions they may make. It’s a surprisingly contemporary message for a story written in the early 20th century.  

I would love to know what you think of this story. I have a Facebook group where you can follow along and leave your comments on the stories. Join it here.

If you love ghost stories, our show Upon The Stair is now on sale. It’s touring early 2020 in Halifax, Salisbury and Harrogate. Grab your tickets here: