Never speak to strangers, you may get burned.

Up in the woods, a young man has frequently been spotted with capabilities of setting light to objects by just looking at them. Again and again up in the woods people have been on there sunday walks and come out injured. They've all reported the same thing, seeing a young man in hiking gear asking for directions. His eye's firy red. Even with all the care in hospitals, each individual who spoke to this young man, couldn't cool their temperature and died a couple of days later from burns and heat stroke.

He's said to wander the footpaths between Lambourn and Wantage. Mostly seen up in Lambourn Woods, he's reported to have walked into the woods to calm himself but never came back. Reported missing, a pile of human ash remains near to a burnt tree was found during the police search of the wood area in 1894. It's believed he takes his wrath on the local people for bullying his work style: his eyes scorched by the flames he loved so much.

Halloween Special

1. The Bowler Stag Division

For Michael centuries have passed by, again and again the eternal youth he has possessed has allowed him and his budding carriage to travel across the country. The sounds of a man with well trimmed suit and shoes that grace the floor in a meaningful way, only to be disturbed by the consistent tapping of his umbrella as a walking aid. The larger than life Bowlers hat denotes his authority. Michael, one of the leading Bowler Stags provides services to those who need cleansing from the Poisoned Forest.

In the 16th Century Amptill Forest to the west of London was enjoying its time of infamy with Royal household issues under King Henry VIII and Katherine of Aragon. But with all the normal day to day lives Witch hunts were being carried out too. Therefore all those with powers who were clever enough, hid away living normal lives so as to not be caught. Those who strayed from the line were drowned and burned, but for the few witches and warlocks who knew how, they not only faked death but resurrected to haunt the population, escaping all rituals.

Again and again, sightings of folklore have been recorded, but telling folklore from witches has proven hard. The Bowler Stags, have one key duty, separate the identities of true witches from the folklore and allow the Woods and Forests to be rightfully lead by the Deer once again.

Under darkness, the majority of folklore creatures come out to play. This be the time for when Bowler Stags are most alert at their duties. Here tonight before Halloween sets in the Bowler Stags are meeting up, the first time in over 200 years. The meeting would not have been called if it was not for the Emperor's death in Devon. The 'Emperor of Exmoor' slained by locals on a hunt, died on the clearest nights with the full moon bearing down on him. Due to the Emperor's untimely death and the reawakening of the spell makers within the Poisoned Forest, the Bowler Stags must find out who would gain.

Well, for one thing the witches and warlocks that are hidden away. As soon as word spread of the Emperor's death by the Green Men call, a rapid assembly of all creatures gathering within Thetford Forest began. Across the country from the Lancashire Hills, The Black Dog is said to have been seen heading on down to Exmoor, first dropping in on Amptill Forest nudging any co-conspirator in the wrong direction for his own solitary humour but more importantly for his own safety, he must remain hidden, for he now remains the most illusive and most powerful creature to walk the land, remaining as his own authority over the land.

The Emperor of Exmoor had held control over the Forests for longer than any Red Deer before him. The sole leader of the whole tribe for 25 years fell to the ground leaving a space for authority and the beginning of an early contest for the next Emperor, however with the Witching Hour upon the country, the potential for anarchy with no real authority may lead to the Witches and Warlocks taking control of the Forests.

The Black Dog, well aware of this goes in place to calm and send order, guiding creatures to their 'rational' locations, harbouring any potential information for the Bowler Stags meet. He sits and looks out across Lyme Regis, an old haunting site of his, before heading back north for Exmoor.

The Bowler Stags meanwhile attempt to call order on what will be a 400 year old test, who rules the Forests? The spell makers from the Poisoned Forest (otherwise known as Amptill Forest) or a new Emperor who would need to command order and impose the long standing law on any of the spell makers of Amptill Forest.

2. The Merchants of Umbrella's

Behind each umbrella lies a terrifying story of when it was last opened drowning in sorrow, carried upside down or felt ridiculed by the fact it wasn't given authority. Umbrella's are just object's aren't they? Well no, in each they hold a small potent creature waiting to jump out and become the new leader of the territory, The Merchant. The Merchant is the Umbrella that rules all other Umbrella's, but no one really knows of the Umbrella's true powers, long forgotten and hidden away, they have laid dormant. Every time they are opened inside a house the creature, acting as a parasite on the Umbrella, releases it's potion, sending untold bad luck upon the house.

But now, the parasitic creatures within have sided with the Poisoned Forest. The Merchant couldn't resist the powers he could unleash, and now stands proud floating in readiness to take control. His true wish: to undermine the witches and rule over all the land once and for all. His best and most powerful secret is that they have been forgotten, each and every person has an Umbrella these days, even the dearest Orpheline, a Witch crossed with Vampire desires and one who holds the key to the Poisoned Forest at Amptill - The Merchant could rule the land if Orpheline finally perished.

Orpheline

Due to her Witching powers and Vampire stripes, removed from the norms of the magical and the blood suckers that be, she has acquired the name Orpheline. Through the woods she wanders crying and whimpering, bringing the unwary into her beautiful sight before sucking them dry or sending them back out to hunt for more blood. Quite a timid Witch, she uses her beauty and passion to lure in her victims, reducing the need to use magic to the hardest catches before setting her victims up for their doom. In one infatuating kiss her victim falls to the ground starving of blood. Orpheline does not like to hurt her victims and cradles them back to health, converting the victimised Elf, creature or passing human. However, hard she tries to be nice, she knows that she will have made another victim. Sometimes hoping that her plan will fail and the Bowler Stags will cure them.

But in recent weeks she's found out about the creatures in the Umbrella's, for she caught one and has held it in possession, attempting to draw The Merchant to her.
Now she wants The Merchant under her control, that way she'll be able to take down the Bowler Stags, and bring down all the Folklore Creatures under her command. Just one would remain elusive but would soon be turned over to be her pet, The Black Dog, for he gave her the name and the Poisoned Forest to live in. The Black Dog, guided her to safety and now Orpheline wants all the creatures under her command for damming her to eternal loneliness, eternal beauty without anyone and no pets, just the powers to control all around her, so many creatures are scared of her and remain away from Orpheline, she wants her new found pet friend, The Black Dog, to come home and play with her, forever.


All that Orpheline really wants is freedom to roam, but she knows of too many ghosts and spirits, the Fairies fly away warning others of her presence, the Devil of Croydon Hill comes from Rodhuish when no feast is available to howl in the nights scaring Orpheline into starting fires commanding the stars to burn the Devil of Croydon Hill's path. Alas, she set light to an old favourite monument of hers, The Hasting Pier. Not the first time that someones attempted to escape her powers on to Piers, a number have gone up in smoke over the years.

Hastings Pier

3. The Black Dog

Back in the day, suspected Witches and Warlocks were drowned, on there resurrection burned. For a normal human would not survive a dunking. Either way, once suspected you were sent to your death. In Chadlington, a Hawk stone exists where those who survived drowning would be chained up ready to be burned.


Orpheline having lived out in the southern parts of the land didn't care much to where she travelled in the past, but on one unfortunate attempt was caught and taken to Chadlington, however, she was transported via a small village of Chipping Norton where a Vicar took a liking to her, no less through her seductive powers, the man of God soon forgave her sins and left the chains to the Hawkstone undone as the fire began, the watching crowd were never seen again.

Orpheline escaped unharmed, but soon bumped into The Black Dog, and as they say the rest is history.

The Black Dog carried on from Exmoor during the day and into the night, with having seen the sight of where The Emperor had fallen to Thetford Forest. His abilities to travel far copiously unchallenged by the size of his stride and pace.


Now that Orpheline was on the hunt for not only The Black Dog and the The Merchant, The Merchant was attempting to play his own game and finally remove Orpheline, although the Bowler Stags an unbiased authority in all their powers would have to work hard to not just have a final ousting of the more powerful Witches and Merchants in Waiting but place a control over all the creatures allowing the Deer to unite under one new Emperor. The Bowler Stags however, even with there most knowledgeable capabilities did not know that The Merchants were still alive, and the one in Michael's hand was relaying all sorts of important information about how the the Bowler Stags would push for authority.

Their position was simple oust Orpheline with the help of The Black Dog and push her back into the Poisoned Forest.

Whilst this was more than capable, Orpheline's trade mark was gradually spreading, over recent months not only had she left a trail of destruction behind, she sat and cried out yelling at the Devil of Croydon Hill to stop chasing her. Orpherline, had headed to Theford Forest picking up the scent no Emperor was in charge. She had at once begun to suck dry many a creature. The Bowler Stags, only had to locate her and cleanse those she did not finish off once and for all.

But whilst this may have been all to easy, The Black Dog locating her and dragging her out of Thetford, banishing her back to Amptill Forest, The Merchant, had turned his head.

Orpheline and The Merchant both thought they had the upper hand, she lead the Merchants in Waiting down on to Salisbury Plain. The Black Dog witnessed every last detail from Stone Henge. Creature after creature that had waited within an Umbrella was swiftly sucked dry, her anticipation for so much blood was impossible to control. The Merchant, thinking he had struck gold sudden found The Black Dog gradually coming up to him in the mist. To the other side row upon row of Bowler Stags emerged, Michael ahead of them all heading straight to one point. The Merchant, hovering directly over Stone Henge awaiting the Full Moon for his parasitic underlings to flourish into full blown werewolves before the sun rose, burning into everyone. The Merchant hoping to place Orpheline as a sacrifice in the centre, willing her to come to him. A new Megalithic Passage Tomb would be made for her, so that she could never be freed and eternally burned by direct sunlight on Solstices.


The only question was, who would be there first. Orpheline, the Bowler Stags or The Black Dog. The Bowler Stags still unaware of The Merchants know how, proceeded. The Green Men signalling where Orpheline had been, The Black Dog tracking her home. Those in Thetford Forest, petrified, but protected in mass by Bowler Stags and Deer, Deer beginning to fight for the Emperor authority. Deer that were gradually poisoned in Amptill. Deer which had been targeted by parasitic creatures of The Merchant.

4. The Emperor

With The Merchant being handled by The Bowler Stags, bringing on swirling mists and relinquishing creatures from parasitic control. Orpheline had turned her attention towards The Black Dog, for whilst she may have stopped the land and all Forests from being taken over by The Merchants in someways saving the Deer, her own plans were only just unravelling. Striking potions down upon creatures, her attention was focussed on The Black Dog. She wanted her pet, without hesitation she swapped from the lust of magic and blood she saw turning towards her more emphatic side. Practically wooing on her pet to come closer. The mist gradually thickening and the leading Stag from each Deer tribe approaching Salisbury Plain in an attempt to solve who will be the next great leader. She provided that quiet sultry sound, beckoning all those in ear reach, to the core of their bodies to look at her.

But The Black Dog knew better, an independent higher power over all the land himself and elder of all creatures, he just looked at her and said "I'll see you when I see you", and through the mist vanished again. Orpheline, not content attempting to call louder found herself with Thee Bowler Stag and a number of Deer around her. Was she in control of all, or were they just looking on?

One Deer looking out from the top of the hillside, called down the Deer leaving her side, the Bowler Stag leader just pointed in the direction of her home, hoping that he wouldn't have to use force. He knew all to well that she wanted to be freed, but it wouldn't be until the new Emperor saw fit, acknowledging that she would one day it would come, but only when she could control both her powers and her fire-ry temper. Until then she remained in authority over all Witches and Warlocks that had escaped the Witch Hunt forever residing in Amptill Forest.

In the mean time normality resumes, a new Emperor, The Emperor of Exmoor, and enough mishaps to keep the uninitiated humans on there toes, how so they didn't understand ghosts, witches and the presence of so many creatures living on, leaving trails, but none the less, with a Full Moon out tonight an extra stash of missing persons, sightings and werewolves praying for food. For on Halloween, all the land awake, a brilliant time to bring those strange stories back to the real world. But still The Emperor knows they won't be noticed, any paranormal activity and sightings placed under illusion. Orpheline may just be allowed a free reign after all, tonight, plenty of chances to scare some locals with that burning look of lust she brings to the area. Yet timid and yet playful like a child, but always dangerous, appearing and disappearing before you realise, she's taken you in.

Ashes of the Innocent

Nocturna

--
Photos with Thanks to BBC Pictures, Christopher Tomas, George Grie, Nathalia Suellen/Lady Symphonia, Rammstein Footage and Winification. Some of my own photos are also in here too.

Emerge Writers Island Prompt

The surreal art always allows me to comprehend old ideas with a new perspective. I enjoy looking and interpreting these sorts of images because they can mean sso much more than the stated obvious. Here below for Writers Island Prompt Emerge is one of the photos given out by Winification.Whilst I'm by no means an artist, I believe this collection to not be from Rene Magritte however lots of Apples, Pipes and people with no heads (occasionally replaced with fruit) exist within the collection; somewhat similar, maybe Magritte was inspiration.

When I got to the end I realised I had elucidated on another theme as well. John Le Carre's George Smiley, such a cliche: "When he watches he listens, he listen's with his eyes...", it deserves a slap on the wrist.

From Winification

***
Whilst you may all look the same and be the same, operating as one group,

you are all individual recalling your true selves from behind the mask.

Bringing with you the entirety of the powers from above,
the worlds have power far greater than any of us can handle.

Three beautiful masks hide those powers, we wait endlessly for replys to our wishes, but it turns out our three Queens have sent there Servants or is that just another illusion, they were really just hiding in someone elses skin.

Standing in clouds we wait, the diplomatic relations between our two worlds, you the power and us the servants. We don't want to upset the Planets. Even though you are all very different without your masks, you are still here for one task. Young and old, agile and frail you wish to find out what it takes to be eternally appealing.

Turning your backs to the old ways, revealing yourselves, the reality is you stand proud of your achievements but you no longer wish to remain acting as false planetary gods. Standing dressed as Servants are you now wishing for us to show you the way now that you have revealed yourselves? Or are you actually just wishing for guidance, repentence, the next step...the next face off?

Tell me, what are you looking out at? Because, if your eyes are so unblinkered, why is there all this mist before you? Swirling poisioned gases above and throthy sea water beneath. What are we all waiting for to emerge from this stand off?

Join us as equals, or join our setting in stone sacrifice, we will paint you beautiful forever, we can be free from this illusion you have laid down on us and start afresh, (together).
***

Harvest Moon

BBC Pictures 2010

Harvest Moon's are always spectacularly beautiful. Larger than life due to the optical illusion between the height of the moon in the sky and its actual size. So bright in the sky, the Harvest Moon's are named as farmers use the extra 'day light' to get on there land. Only in occurrence on the equinox, the moon rises only far enough to shine so brightly upon its subject.

Back in time under pagan ritual, where people worshipped the sunrise and set at henge's, did such factors of universe seem so powerful. But even today, the powers which stand in the sky can still control our thoughts and destines. So we may know the Earth travels round the sun and not the other way, and that it is not flat. But even through the Dark Ages and Medieval times, some of the the greatest magical powers have survived, reincarnating themselves and preparing to unleash the power of their imagination. The sure signs of folklore that you and I may always say never existed in reality, the fairy tales that are just stories all come to life.

In time you and I may wonder, what happened to all those people who said they could use powerful spells? But the myths still go on. Take Macbeth for instance, even today the play is said to be cursed, the spells stolen from the witches, cursed the play. Anyone who mentions the name has to perform one of a numerous set of antidotes for disaster has struck many of the cast and theater houses to perform Macbeth or to those who say his name under the roof.

But enough of all those, what have the creatures which now live among us, tantalising and hiding from us. No Halloween goes without a joke about Vampires these days, but then whose to say they don't exist. In our times of such logic and scientific knowledge why do we still have the chills about black magic and white magic, Ghosts, Goblins and Elves, creatures of the night. Science has eaten vast chunks away at the powers god performs, and yet science has not stopped people from believing in the magical. Is it something to do with our pasts, is it because it's only recent history we still relate to the punishment, "if you were a witch or warlock no mercy was given?" The way it's become part of reading culture it feels much more real and believable...?

Whilst never knowingly had such issues, one personal touch I should really remember is that of my ginger hair. In Lancashire, on New Years Day if a person with red hair enters a house first, they bring ill luck.

I say I'm not superstitious but it only takes a little unnerving and I start questioning my own thoughts, are we really here alone or is there something more powerful at work, pulling the strings from behind the scenes. I have known many a place where ghosts have said to be, and known people who have said they've seen them. Dear Lady Castlemaine, my school house was named after the lady who was said to have died in The Castle after her father did not agree to her marriage, she roams the halls on Christmas Eve. Her supposed escape to dash through a tunnel with the aid of her mother through the Guards Quarters out to the safety of Bourne Hall where her beloved waited in vain. She had lived just up the road in the grounds of Nonsuch Palace as it was back then, being horse drawn through what are now the school grounds.

In history we imagine a time which appears only to have existed only for a few years. Ladies living in mansions and palaces, huge gardens and green space within the grounds. Meanwhile, out on the edges, the plebeians of society remain at large, undiscovered. The men in control of large carriages, horse grounds and farmed land. Draw bridges allowing passage across small streams, where the Monarch's Swan's live. Visions of the country portrayed by the likes of John Constable highlight the glory and best of the rural idyll and norm, the Forests setup by King Henry VIII for shooting, and Woodlands diminishing gradually as has been the case since the Domesday Book (1086).

Maybe next time I see a Harvest Moon I will see not only an old way of life but one that remains dormant in the back of our minds. The vast expanses of land and courage, waiting for us to explore. Who knows what is out there for us to discover, who knows maybe there are creatures in the night adjusting all our doings in the day. Guiding us in certain directions and sometimes guiding us to our doom. The Black Dog of Devon is said to be the Devil, larger than a normal Dog. Each county has its own. By no means as spooky as 'The Hound of the Baskervilles' by Conon Doyle. Still, the Lancashire Black Hound (Gytrash/Padfoot) sometimes helps people rejoin the correct path, although sometimes he more than helps them go astray and disappear forever.

After all there are so many stories in folklore and forbidden magical acts that it becomes hard to see what's really going on. Maybe it's all just a big conspiracy, maybe none of it really exists and they are all just myths passed on generation after generation. But remember, next time your standing outside on a moor looking up at the stars, or wandering down the village high street late at night, you may not be the only creature in the area, for the ghosts have to come out and play, the fairies have to reset the flowers, and the Black Dog may well be right next to you.

Envision: For Writers Island

The black and white of life that is covered over my eyes stops me from seeing the colours which really exist when I open them.

The image reminds me all the more of The Committed Man story I wrote some while back. I often wonder if he ever managed to make it to freedom, remember what was truly out there. Unfortunately I doubt it for when you read it you’ll realise he had a number of illnesses, was he an alcoholic stuck, did he have Alzheimer’s, or was he just so old and fed up he wanted to be alone in that rotting room.

If only he could see the colour, lift the veil and see just how much he was missing, he most certainly would have wanted to, but then his vision was always waiting for his daughter to come back home. We only find out the full horror’s of what’s happened to this man’s life when she points out the reality of the situation in Part 2. Whose envision do we want? Who do we want to make feel better – the old man, or the lady who appears as Nurse and Daughter? Whilst we can still think straight we should all hold out, enjoy what we do and hope the wool, is not being pulled over our eyes by a slowly debilitating disease.

Maybe we should all envision a better future where everything makes complete sense and we are able to open our eyes to the truly colourful and beautiful world beyond this cloth we are all blinded by.

So many times we are blinded by our own unwitting stupidity, we should all pay more attention to the details however big or small they are and gain a better understanding for our future.

The Church of Scientology – A Worrying Parallel

The Secrets of Scientology

I’ve given a link to the recent Panorama program in which we come to realise that the Church of Scientology seems to have nothing to do with Science. Believe in a strange form of Xenu alien that no one knows about and when is investigated or researched follows the researchers. In there hate for psychiatry and belief its wrong they use a lot of psychology tactics to: provoke people, manipulate them to disconnect them from the outside world, watch and record them, even in ‘auditing’ periods, which is like a confession. Their sole aim is to gain numbers and increase there property portfolio, so as Panorama points out, is it a cult?

I think it is because it’s a self-actualising profession, “come to us and we will show you what you can achieve, pay us £100 and get freedom back”.

I’ve seen this portrayed in other ways for business profiteering, where you go on a course in the belief you will increase your knowledge and wealth from carrying out these tasks basically like ‘Neuro-linguistic Programming’, only to find that the course teachers are conning you by making you pay for the course and suggesting your future profit is over the odds on what you actually later earn. Almost like a Franchise where the franchisee has to pay the main owner for the name and product and pay out for any profits you get as well to develop further in the future.

But it’s much worse because it says it is a church, nicking the fundamental symbols and adapting them from the Christian faith, hiding full ‘scripture’ in layers so you have to buy your way up the ladder to more knowledge but not until they are assured you are fully understanding of your current level.

In fact it secludes people so well that it reminds me a little bit of how Berlin was during the cold war and our current issue of North Korea. From the outside no one knows what’s going on, from the inside what we do know is it’s not a pleasant environment. With tactics of manipulation, interrogation auditing and then use of family and friends by ‘disconnection’ methods it makes you want to stay within their reign. This is because if you want to leave you are punished with disconnection, unless you do leave under their terms. Their terms means money, you pay to leave because if you don’t you are threatened with your audits and then they are put in the public domain. No confessions are kept secret, the stakes are high, and your family who remain behind never speak to you again.

I don’t understand how people can be sucked into this; surely someone would have noticed that it’s not good. It’s a dangerous cult that is bullying its clients to stay and believe in a system that they don’t fully understand. Being taught mind games to keep the outside world from knowing all and not even letting those who are accepted find out everything without further money.

This is neither the Stone Masons nor the Quakers, here in Scientology; you’re expected to do as the system decrees. Everything you do is monitored and those who want to know more must pay to sign up or face being harassed.

In some ways it’s not a cult, but it has a cult following, it’s exposing itself to the world by increasing it’s property portfolio, in turn increasing it’s worth and then it is also showing a high number of celebrities getting involved. Obviously, this is only going to encourage the young and susceptible to sign up. If celebrities are doing it, then young kids are going to want to be doing it.

Because they don’t allow you full access from the public domain, because you have to pay in stages to increase your knowledge of what you’re meant to believe in. This following has no true grounding for those who have a real faith.

Thought Bubbles - Now, forever, and the past

Photo by Nathalia Suellen: Forgotten and Never Heard

Ok, so I've been holding back on blogging recently with all sorts of job hunting stuff I have to do, but it doesn't mean I haven't been writing my odd bits and bobs down ready to go out once I've drafted them out neatly.

Well, I say that, but I had to advance this item passed the others (which are taking more time).
Firstly, I was on my wanders today and a friend mentioned flash backs and nightmares. Which set me thinking about the past which had already been on my mind, evolution and change... these last two particularly because at the moment some landscape gardeners have arrived, and today day one (I will hopefully create its own blog, its got about 60days) will have radically altered a small patch of Berkshire that was once and forever the same way for quite some time, most likely 10 years or more...and now its all gone, its being felled as I speak, and so the world goes round and this small place has yet been redecorated for more normal outside wonders than invasive species.

Secondly, I came across some music which took me back way too long ago. I spells from hearing some music and trying to find out whose it was. Well I have failed on the original, I think it's from an advert but I found something more interesting.

Given, websites that play music in the background tend not to be the best sites, I feel compelled to mention Nathalia Suellen who has only recently started producing photgraphic material, and is very compelling. Further her pictures have inspired Vladimir Agaev, who has composed some short classical pieces mostly of piano concertos. A promising start for a young man from Russia.

In a tail of twisted thoughts in this tracking of music, I ended up searching high and low only to end up with Jan Hammers' Crockett's Theme, which really did take me back in time.

All those times we relflect and day dream about how we miss our loved ones hurts. Sometimes we want to go back but, I found it only hurt, you can't fix or have back what you've lost. The strange thing is, Crockett's Theme reminds me of a time when all I wanted to do is fly, I wanted to be up in the sky, have that uplifting sensation. I wanted to be thrown around the sky, I wanted to be up there photgraphing the world below me and travelling as fast as the wind, I wanted to be filming helicopters and aeroplanes as they flew over hedge rows. But this is unlikely to happen, and so I remind myself that if ever there was a chance, I'd take it, I'd fly away with whoever she was...but if only this were true.

You see, today, whatever the past is, the present can only help correct.
The future we hold only tentatively in our hands.
We must keep hold of our nearest and dearest,
for one day you and they will not be here.