The Grisly tale of Timothy Brooke:

“Daddy, tell me the story again!” “Okay angel, if you want me to.” “It was All Hallow’s Eve, and all through the gloom, not a single thing stirred in Timothy’s room. His mother, so dear, had kissed him goodnight while tucking him in and repeating her plight: ‘Timothy, my child, hear what I say and then you’ll be sure to greet the next day. Tonight, should you hear, a suspicious sound stay under cover and don’t look around.’ Now Timothy lay ‘neath his sheets oh so warm, while outside his window there raged hellish storms. But being a boy with courage beyond his years he didn’t pay mind to his mom’s silent fears. Late in the night he did hear a sound like moaning from corpses beneath hollowed ground. Now trying to flee from encased, muddy tombs like dead babies crawling from the earth’s womb. Timothy shuddered and ducked under cover of his sheets sewn together by his dear mother. From under the covers he didn’t dare peep, while silently Timothy began to weep. For hours it felt like the moaning increased, when suddenly it seemed that the moaning had ceased. Daring to look after all had gone still Timothy plucked the courage of will. In the nocturnal hour all through the gloom, not a single thing stirred in Timothy’s room. Timothy’s gone and he’s never been seen again since that night on All Hallow’s Eve.” “Night angel…” “Night d-a-d-d-y…….”