Would you Spend the Night in a Haunted Castle part 1

Beaumaris Castle with moat taken by Debbie Dunn aka DJ Lyons
Beaumaris Castle with moat taken by Debbie Dunn aka DJ Lyons | Source


This is based on a story I wrote long ago that you can find along with 31 others in my second published novel called “White Reindeer, Kudzu Monster, & Other Tales of Wonder” written under my pen name of DJ Lyons. As I prepare to perform this story at an October 15, 2011 function known as “Ghost Stories told around the Campfire,” I decided to transform it into poetic form for the enjoyment of my friends on Hubpages. Check the link at the bottom of the page should you like to view or purchase a copy of my book on Amazon. Or you can visit my website at http://askdjlyons.com in case you can get it for a cheaper price.

Naturally, when I perform it, I will tell it as a story rather than a poem. I just found it fun to solidify the story images in my mind that I soon will be performing along with several other ghostly tales.

Another view of the outside of Beaumaris Castle taken by Debbie Dunn aka DJ Lyons
Another view of the outside of Beaumaris Castle taken by Debbie Dunn aka DJ Lyons | Source

Would you Spend the Night in a Haunted Castle part 1

© 2011 by Debbie Dunn aka DJ Lyons

If you were dared,

double-dog dared,

to spend the night

in a haunted house

or better yet,

a haunted castle.

What would you do?

Would you say yes?

Would you say no?

Would you be scared?

Would you feel brave?

What would you do?

I wonder.

That is precisely what happened

to a young man I know.

He goes by the name

of Gwyn.

That’s right – Gwyn.

Where does Gwyn live?

If you are in the USA,

you must travel

across the Atlantic Ocean.

You must probably fly into London.

Then you take a rail train

to the country of Wales.

Then you take a bus

to the Isle of Anglesey

until you finally end up

in the ancient town of Beaumaris.

That is what I did twice

back in the 1990’s.

I took that trip.

Soon I was standing outside

the gates to a beautiful castle

called by the name of

Beaumaris Castle.

This castle was built

many, many years ago

by King Edward I of England.

This happened over 700 years ago

in the ripe old year of 1296.

If you wish to tour

this beautiful castle built long ago,

you go to the gate

you pay a fee.

At the time when I went,

it was a pound fifty.

Back in the 1990’s,

that was the equivalent

to about two dollars and forty cents American.

Then you are free, are free, are free

to tour this castle

to your heart’s content,

as long as you leave, you leave, you leave

before four o’clock.

That’s when the gatekeeper

goes home, goes home, goes home

to have his cup of tea and a bite to eat,

ne’er to return to the next morn

where he does this all over again.

Sad to say,

the castle built by King Edward the first

was never finished

due to lack of funds.

And yet,

if you are a child

or a person with imagination fully active,

you can have a lovely time

playing and exploring

and reliving the time

when dozens of people lived

inside these castle walls.

For Gwyn, age twelve

with best friend Hugh

and Hugh’s younger brother

by the name of Sion,

they had a time filled with delight

and wonder

as they played the age-old game

of Hide and Go Seek.

The one boy searching

for the other two boys

would have to enter

one of fifty guard rooms

to see if the third one lurked

within these thick stone walls.

The challenge lay

in the way each room was built.

If you stood in the doorway,

what could you see, you see, you see?

You could see a long narrow window

built for the archers to use their crossbows

to defend the castle against Scotsman

who used to like to invade the castle

as they crossed over the Irish Sea

that used to come all the way, the way, the way,

to the stone walls of the Castle Beaumaris.

If they managed to find the way, the way, the way,

to get the drawbridge to be lowered

over the moat that used to surround all side

of this beautiful stone castle,

their challenges would not be at an end.

For if they stood

at the entrance of each guard room,

other than the long narrow window

they had no clue, no clue, no clue

if someone was lying, or sitting,

or standing, or crouching

on the long stone bench.

You ask, you ask, you ask why this is so?

Because a stone wall blocks your view

in each and every room.

The only way the invader

or a young boy playing hide and go seek

could know if someone was lurking

on that stone bench,

they would have to enter the room

at their peril.

Not just enter the room

would they have to do, to do, to do.

They actually would have to walk.

One step. Still don’t know.

Two steps. Still don’t know.

Three steps. They soon will know.

After a quick pause,

you peer around that stone wall

to receive your answer.

Back in those long ago days,

you might get speared, get speared, be gutted.

In these present days,

you might have a young boy

jump out at you

like the boogie man,

yelling his fierce war cry

causing your heart to beat double-time

as you fall backward

in nervous fright and

full of laughing delight

at a trick very well played

by your fellow friend and companion

playing this game of hide and go seek

for hour upon hour

until hunger drives you to

the center courtyard

to enjoy a picnic snack

made by the Mum of Hugh and Sion.

What fun! What fun! What fun!

Can you see those three boys?

Can you imagine their pleasure?

Here is the long narrow window just the right size for a crossbow

Here is the long narrow window just the right size for a crossbow taken by Debbie Dunn aka DJ Lyons
Here is the long narrow window just the right size for a crossbow taken by Debbie Dunn aka DJ Lyons | Source

Castle Corridor inside Beaumaris Castle

Castle Corridor inside Beaumaris Castle taken by Debbie Dunn aka DJ Lyons
Castle Corridor inside Beaumaris Castle taken by Debbie Dunn aka DJ Lyons | Source

A Guardroom inside Beaumaris Castle

A Guardroom inside Beaumaris Castle taken by Debbie Dunn aka DJ Lyons
A Guardroom inside Beaumaris Castle taken by Debbie Dunn aka DJ Lyons | Source

However, …

their pleasure gets interrupted.

They hear a sound blowing through

the castle corridors.


Seven-year-old Sion yells,

“Ahhhhhh! It’s the Beaumaris Ghost.

He’s here. And it’s not even dark yet.


Big brother Hugh listens to the sound,

frown lines creasing his forehead.

Could it be? At this hour?

In broad daylight?

Usually it happens at dusk,

or more often than that,

around the hour of midnight.

Gwyn, however, is not fooled.

He turns to the brothers

and assures them

it is only the wind ricocheting

through the long stone corridors

of the Castle Beaumaris.

He scoffs at the little boy’s fright

and gullibility for thinking

there could possibly be a ghost

haunting this over 700-year castle.

Hugh looks at Gwyn to state, to state, to state,

“There is indeed a ghost

that haunts this very castle

night after night around midnight.

Perhaps that time,

it was indeed the wind.

But Sion and I, and I, and I,

have heard the ghost

more than once

as we pass the castle

on our way to school, to school, to school,

when the sun is not yet high

in the sky, the sky, the sky.”

Gwyn looks at the brothers two

and states,

“It is a fact, a fact, a fact,

that there is no such thing, no such thing,

no such thing,

as a ghost, a ghost, a fanciful ghost.”

Hugh states back,

“Gwyn - Sion and I know, we know,

yes we know,

there is a ghost, a ghost, a ghost

who haunts this castle

night after night

for over 700 years.

We know because

we’ve heard it from our Gram.

She heard it from her Gram.

On back and back and back

for over 700 years.”

Gywn challenges, “Okay,

if you are so smart,

tell me this story

of your make-believe ghost.
Make me a believer,

if you can, you can, you can.”

Hugh says, “I will try, will try, will try

to tell you this spooky tale.

Me Gram could tell it better,

but I will do my best, my best, my best.”

Long, long ago,

over 700 years ago,

King Edward I determined

to build a castle

made of stone

in the town of Beaumaris.

He hired man upon man,

hundreds of men,

to gather stone from the quarry.

They loaded these stones

on a ship.

Transported these stones

through the Irish Sea.

Then upon reaching Beaumaris town,

they lay stone

one upon the other,

building the walls of this very castle

that you see in front of you today.

This effort was fraught with challenges.

The biggest challenge of them all,

was funding.

For as you heard that gatekeeper say,

King Edward I of England yore

kept running out of money.

Definitely not funny.

He kept running out of money.

One day,

not a fine day,

about half his men

walked off the job.

Perhaps you could say, could say, could say

they decided to strike

that very day.

Hundreds more

remained on the job, the job, the job,

hoping beyond hope

that soon they would be paid,

so they could put more than excuses

in the hungry mouths of their

despairing wives and kids, and kids,

of their despairing and hungry

wives and kids.

One tragic day,

King Edward I of England yore

learned that never, never, never

was he going to get one farthing more

to invest in the building

of this castle of dreams.

Beaumaris Castle was never

going to be finished at all, at all, at all.

Nor was the money there,

to ever, ever, ever pay

those men who had labored hard

and long on building the castle walls.

Did King Edward I of England

have the courage to face these angry men?

A very resounding no, no, no.

He did not, did not, most resoundingly,

he did not have the courage for that.

So who would go

to tell these men

that nevermore would they be paid

and nevermore would this castle

be finished?

Who would go indeed?

King Edward I of England

found an archer.

He sent him to the town of Beaumaris,

a town from which he hailed.

He said, “Tell these men

to put down those stones.

Stop building.

Go home.

To my regret,

I’m sorry.

There is no money

for you ever to get paid.”

Have you ever heard the expression,

“Don’t kill the messenger!”?

Perhaps this is where

that expression originated.

That archer went,

he told and trembled

at the murderous rage

of the multiple villagers.

Did they think about the fact

that this poor archer

would most likely not receive pay as well?

No! No! No, they did not.

They thought only

of their wasted effort,

their hungry families,

their terrible feelings

of betrayal and disappointment and rage.

The few archers left

now had to work overtime.

Not only did they have to try

to defend the castle against

invading Scotsman,

they had to defend the castle

from the very villagers

who had labored long

on this castle called Beaumaris.

One dark night,

it was the archer’s turn

to stand watch.

He had a four-hour shift.

When his time was up,

a new archer appeared

ready to take his place.

But ...

Where was the first archer?

Had he fallen asleep

on one of the fifty stone benches

in one of the fifty guard rooms?

He checked each room.

He was not there.

Then he entered the tower.

He climbed the narrow stone steps,

that wound round and round,

holding onto the rope

that was attached

to the stone walls.

Round and round and round he went

until he reached the tower top.

No archer did he see.

He was about to turn,

when something glinted

in the moonlight.

The replacement archer walked

and bent so he could retrieve

a spear.

A lone spear.

Lying unattended

on the stone tower floor.

When he picked up this spear,

what did he see on the end?

Was it blood?

Was there blood on the end?

Holding his torch,

he peered close.

Yes, it did indeed appear to be blood.

Next he rushed

to the tower wall.

He peered over the edge

into the Irish Sea.

No man did he see.

Only crashing waves.

Weeks later,

a body floated in

on the tide.

It was the messenger archer

bloated and dead.

The people all wondered,

forever more they wondered,

was he pushed?

Did he accidentally fall?

Or did he jump in his despair.

But no answers did any

of them ever get.

The only thing they did get

was the firm knowledge

that now an unhappy ghost

haunted this castle,

forever more haunted,

night after night haunted

for over 700 years.

Tune into the link below to find out what happens next

To be continued ...

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Comments 5 comments

writer20 profile image

writer20 5 years ago from Southern Nevada

Great reading. I think I did too many castles living in England, my father use to like visitng them.

Off to read the next part. awesome/up

Ask_DJ_Lyons profile image

Ask_DJ_Lyons 5 years ago from Mosheim, Tennessee Author

Writer 20, thanks so much! I hope you enjoy the second part as well.

Best wishes, Debbie

Eiddwen profile image

Eiddwen 5 years ago from Wales

I am so sorry Debbie but I've had no notifications when you have published and I am missing all your hubs.

Still better late than never because I really enjoyed this one,and look forward to the next chapter.

An up up and away for this one.

Take care and enjoy your day.


Ask_DJ_Lyons profile image

Ask_DJ_Lyons 5 years ago from Mosheim, Tennessee Author

Thanks so much, Eddy. The link to part 2 is above. I appreciate your kind feedback.

Best wishes,


James A Watkins profile image

James A Watkins 4 years ago from Chicago

Beaumaris Castle! I have been there. Lovely place.

Your poem is fantastic! I enjoyed every minute of it. Thank you for publishing Part One of this treasure.

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