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Last year my good friend wrote a story featuring my two journalist snoops Keyer & CHRYSTEL. Check it out here Keyer and Chrystel - Haunting of the Highwayman
And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding-
Riding-riding-
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard,
And he taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

The Highwayman – Alfred Noyes
Chrystel frowned as she finished reading the poem resting on her lap. “Bit morbid, don’t you think?”
“It’s just a ghost story,” Anna Keyer laughed as she turned the steering wheel, directing her car through a sweeping bend in the isolated country road. “I remember stu I loved the story so much I just had to do some illustrations for it so here they are.

The girls make a very significant discovery but soon end up at the mercy of a deranged cameraman…
Story by . Art by me.

Description

Last year my good friend wrote a story featuring my two journalist snoops Keyer & CHRYSTEL. Check it out here Keyer and Chrystel - Haunting of the Highwayman
And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding-
Riding-riding-
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard,
And he taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

The Highwayman – Alfred Noyes
Chrystel frowned as she finished reading the poem resting on her lap. “Bit morbid, don’t you think?”
“It’s just a ghost story,” Anna Keyer laughed as she turned the steering wheel, directing her car through a sweeping bend in the isolated country road. “I remember stu I loved the story so much I just had to do some illustrations for it so here they are.

The girls make a very significant discovery but soon end up at the mercy of a deranged cameraman…
Story by . Art by me.