Welcome to the house at the end of EVERY WITCH WAY LANE.

2011-06-11T22:45:00.001-07:00

The winding lane that leads up to the front steps of the Witches house can be treacherous. Pause for a moment to listen to the whispers in the wind, and you might hear the cackle of a Witch far off in the distance. Or maybe the hoot of an owl in a nearby tree. You never know what things you may see and hear as you make your trek up the pathway to the front door, just know the door is always unlocked and you are free to enter, we will keep a candle lit for you!

This is a site that is dedicated to the creation, display and sales of one of a kind art work, that is all and every thing about Halloween Witches, Ghouls, Ghost and Spooks. These pages are filled with everything from the Whimsical Witch to the Frightening and Scary Witch. Feel free to browse through the hall ways of the house at the end of EVERY WITCH WAY LANE, and read about the artist, their work, and view their creations. We welcome you to join our followers list, and we also welcome any feedback or comments! We are always here, or at least flying by now and again! You never know what spells are being cast behind the door of the house at the end of EVERY WITCH WAY LANE !

Black cats and witches hats,
Big yellow moons, and old hags with brooms.
A cool breeze gently pushes a eerie thick fog,
And a thick wet mist, rises up off the bog.
I must insist, you hasten your pace,
Making your way up the tree lined lane.
Swiping branches away, as they scratch cross your face.
Trying to reach some shelter before the rain.
You trek up the path, through the gate you do pass,
Then up to the steps, onto the porch with a gasp.
The cry of the planks, as you quietly creep,
Each step up draws you closer to the answer you seek.
Forward you reach,
for the tattered old door ,
On a rusty hinge it hangs,
and nothing more.
It gives an endless creek, slowly open it swings.
You hesitantly step in,
Whisking cobwebs from your chin..
The door slams closed behind you with a swift crisp moan,
Raising the hair on your neck, giving you a shiver to the bone.
Is there anyone here? Is there anyone home,
With a dead silence it echoes, yet loud as a groan.
Such a lonely old house, at the end of the lane does loom.
No inhabitants to fill it, the air is thick with gloom.
And if there were such things as witches, spirits, ghouls and ghost,
It would surely be a place, that they would like the most!

author~ patrick j. gill

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