A Moment in Time

A Moment In Time

    Today I thought I’d do something different and tell you a story about my great, great, grand-mother. Back in the late 1800’s, or so I’m told, when the family still lived in Suffolk, they owned a small farm and she, being unmarried and in her early twenties had caught the eye of a member of the ‘landed gentry’ who was somewhat wealthy because of his overseas interests and dealings. They courted, much in the fashion of the day, and eventually became engaged then married. 

   Now, the family history for some reason doesn’t say much about the honeymoon- how long for or even where – in all likelihood it was probably somewhere on the coast there and when finished they went to live in his house which was a large, country-style mansion…you can imagine the sort of thing- sweeping lawns , servants, etc. By all accounts they were happy in their life and settled down nicely. 

   Time passed, and as it happened business matters arose – not for the better- and this necessitated trips abroad to be taken by her husband who began to be gone for longer and longer periods of time which did cause problems, but nothing insurmountable. However, as the diary she kept tells us, he had warned her not to intrude on a room at the top of the house that he kept reserved for his own private needs- even the servants were banned from entering- and it was kept locked at all times. 

   Loneliness, boredom, and curiosity are mentioned several times in her journal- at least those parts that survived the passing years and are still readable – and so it seems she became fascinated by the thought of what could be hidden in that room. Knowing where it was she often climbed the narrow, almost secret, stairs that led to the door and stared at it – perhaps imagining sounds or movements behind it and from what we can make out it preyed upon her mind to the point where whenever her husband was away – despite her promising him never to pry into its contents- she would go there to do this albeit she never gained entrance for he had the key well- hidden, even from her.

   Time passed, yet her yearning to discover the secret did not …and as it happened one day her husband was called away for a business meeting that meant he would be gone for at least a month and with the urgency of the situation he left in some haste- and she somehow observed him hiding the key to the door – being in such a rush he had not been as careful as perhaps he should have been, who can say ? 

   Farewells were said, he left, and she retired to their bedroom with said key. In her diary she stated quite clearly of her feelings of guilt at even having taken it for the promise she had given weighed heavily on her mind yet, after a few days, she took it to the door. You may, or may not be, surprised to learn that she did not open it at first- fear of discovery and its consequences possibly prevented her to begin with-being honest we can only guess at her reasons and the state of her mind at this stage. 

   It took, from her recorded thoughts, several trips up and down those stairs before she finally succumbed to temptation and one night, after the servants had all retired to their quarters and she was certain that no one would observe her actions she ascended them once more with only the light of a candle to guide her. 

   Outside, even though the weather was fine, it was quite windy, or so we’re told, and being up in the top of the house it possibly caused a few creaks and groans to issue from the rafters in the roof which can’t have made her feel any better as she approached the door in the shadows and, after a few moments of thought, unlocked it before entering.

With only the light of that candle, from what we can make out, the room was still cloaked in a darkness that meant nothing was visible and so she was forced to take very careful steps as she progressed further inside lest she trip or knock something over- the risk of discovery no doubt still in her head. 

  

We know from what was left for us to read, although as mentioned before not all of it is readable- the wind rose and as it blew through the eaves of the roof it caused the door to close and the candle flickered before going out. Having no way to relight it she was left in absolute darkness with no way to find her way out unless she took the risk of groping about blindly until she found a wall or the door. It was then, apparently, that she heard a low moaning the sound of something dragging itself across the floor towards her.

   And, if I ever find out what happened next, I’ll let you know.

*******************

D W Storer

2018 / 2019

Black Shuck - Hound of Hell?

Black Shuck - Hound of Hell? 

   

Black Shuck

    Black Shuck, sometimes known as ‘Old Shuck’, ‘Old Shuck’ or even just ‘Shuck’ is a legendary ghostly black dog appearing in English legends that is said to roam the coastline and countryside of East Anglia. Tales of the animal are found, for the most part, in Norfolk, Suffolk, the Cambridgeshire fens and Essex.

    One tale in particular springs to mind, that of its appearance on the 4^th of August 1577 at Bungay and Blythburgh, and it is possibly the most well -known report of the creature in which reports of the beast charging in through the entrance of St Mary's Church in Bungay, accompanied by the obligatory peals of thunder, then running up the nave, past the congregation, killing a man and boy en- route, before somehow causing the church steeple to collapse through the roof. After this the tale relates further that its rampage continued as it then ran on to Blythburgh Church where it attacked and killed more people.  Some local accounts claim it to be the work of the Devil and, strangely enough there are scorch marks still visible on the church doors there which are still called by the locals "the devil’s fingerprints"

    The event is remembered, quite darkly, in this verse -
"All down the church in midst of fire, the hellish monster flew, and, passing onward to the quire, he many people slew".

      Bungay Coat of Arms-

The Latin may loosely be translated as

‘Our ways have stood the test of time’

  

    One description, by W A Dutt, in his 1901 book ‘Highways & Byways in East reads, ‘He takes the form of a huge black dog, and prowls along dark lanes and lonesome field footpaths, where, although his howling makes the hearer's blood run cold, his footfalls make no sound. You may know him at once, should you see him, by his fiery eye; he has but one, and that, like the Cyclops', is in the middle of his head. But such an encounter might bring you the worst of luck: it is even said that to meet him is to be warned that your death will occur before the end of the year. So you will do well to shut your eyes if you hear him howling; shut them even if you are uncertain whether it is the dog fiend or the voice of the wind you hear. Should you never set eyes on our Norfolk ‘Snarleyow’ you may perhaps doubt his existence, and, like other learned folks, tell us that his story is nothing but the old Scandinavian myth of the black hound of Odin, brought to us by the Vikings who long ago settled down on the Norfolk coast’

    

‘Scorched claw marks’ of Black Shuck on the
 Church door, Holy Trinity Blythburgh

   Despite this dark tale there are, as with most legends, variants not only on the appearance of the beast but as to its nature too.  In the most southerly point of sightings, the Maldon and Dengie area of Essex, to witness the appearance of Black Shuck signifies an almost immediate death yet other stories tell of Black Shuck merely terrifying his victims but leaving them otherwise unharmed, whilst some portray him as being benign even escorting women on their way home to protect them and even helping lost travellers find their way home.

   There are Black Dogs in most regions folklore, Devon has its ‘Yeth Hound’ (or Yell Hound) - a headless dog, said to be the spirit of an unbaptised child, that rambles through the woods at night making wailing noises. It is also mentioned in the Denham Tracts, a 19th-century collection of folklore by Michael Denham. It may have been one inspiration for the ghost dog in The Sherlock Holme’s story ‘The Hound of the Baskervilles’ that roamed Dartmoor by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle which was described as ‘an enormous coal-black hound, but not such a hound as mortal eyes have ever seen with fire in his eyes and breath’

    In the same region can be found the tales of the ‘Wisht’ or Wish Hounds, which may well be another version of the Yeth Hounds. Wistman's Wood on Dartmoor in southern Devon is said to be their home and it from there that they are said to scour the lands in search of prey with their preferred haunts being Abbot's Way (a road) and the valley of the Dewerstone. There is even a tale that tells of  the ghost of Sir Francis Drake driving a black hearse coach on the road between Tavistock and Plymouth at night, drawn by headless horses and accompanied by demons and a pack of headless yelping hounds.

   Sidney Paget's illustration of The Hound of the Baskervilles

    As to be expected, tales of ‘Black Dogs’ can be found across the world- and yes all the legends seem to be very , very similar . A shared memory or purely down to ideas spreading as cultures intermixed?  Something to ponder on. Saying that , if you have any thoughts on this , or local legends to share please feel free to post them up here in the comment box and ...if you're feeling kindly disposed towards this blog please share it and / or recommend it to all and any who you think may like it . 

Many thanks

D W Storer 2018/2019

Cthulhu, the Necronomicon, and other Curiosities

Cthulhu, the Necronomicon, and other Curiosities

   H P Lovecraft was an American author, mostly of what would be described as ‘pulp fiction’, who gained a small cult following during his lifetime yet, like so many other author of note, only truly became successful after his death. The American pulp magazine, Weird Tales, published his tale ‘The Call of Cthulhu’ in 1928 – the creature existed as part of the ‘Great Old Ones’ within the universe he created for his readers and looked like a hybrid of an octopus and a dragon  somehow combined into a human form.

   

   

Howard Phillips Lovecraft – 1890-1937
 

    A dark, esoteric, if not forbidden, knowledge drives the theme of the majority of Lovecraft's works - his heroes, or anti-heroes, seem to be impelled by curiosity or scientific need. The knowledge uncovered usually consists of such revelations that end up destroying them psychologically, physically, or even at times both which with so many of the characters in his books ending up dead brings us rather neatly onto the ‘Necronomicon’ .

     Lovecraft introduced the Necronomicon as a fictional grimoire and was an account of the history of the ‘Old Ones’ which contained the means for summoning them and it first appeared in his 1924 short story "The Hound" – though in the tale its origins are stated as coming from the works of the "Mad Arab", Abdul Alhazred, who had appeared as a character previously in another of Lovecraft’s works, "The Nameless City".

   After being faced with so many questions as the whether the Necronomicon, its ‘author’, or those beings it described, H P was forced to write a book about the books and even stated in a letter to Willis Conover, a jazz producer and broadcaster on the Voice of America for over forty years -

    ‘Now about the "terrible and forbidden books” — I am forced to say that most of them are purely imaginary. There never was any Abdul Alhazred or Necronomicon, for I invented these names myself. Robert Bloch devised the idea of Ludvig Prinn and his De Vermis Mysteriis, while the Book of Eibon is an invention of Clark Ashton Smith's. Robert E. Howard is responsible for Friedrich von Junzt and his Unaussprechlichen Kulten.... As for seriously-written books on dark, occult, and supernatural themes — in all truth they don’t amount to much. That is why it’s more fun to invent mythical works like the Necronomicon and Book of Eibon ‘.

‘That is not dead which can eternal lie.

And with strange aeons even death may die.’

H P Lovecraft
The Nameless City" (1921) & The Call of Cthulhu" (1928

    In his work ‘The Dunwich Horror ‘(1929) Lovecraft’s character, Wilbur Whateley, at the age of fifteen, locates a copy of the work library of Miskatonic University and finds the following passage -

 ‘Nor is it to be thought that man is either the oldest or the last of earth's masters, or that the common bulk of life and substance walks alone. The Old Ones were, the Old Ones are, and the Old Ones shall be. Not in the spaces we know, but between them, they walk serene and primal, undimensioned and to us unseen. Yog-Sothoth knows the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the key and guardian of the gate. Past, present, future, all are one in Yog-Sothoth. He knows where the Old Ones broke through of old, and where They shall break through again. He knows where They had trod earth's fields, and where They still tread them, and why no one can behold Them as They tread. By Their smell can men sometimes know Them near, but of Their semblance can no man know, saving only in the features of those They have begotten on mankind; and of those are there many sorts, differing in likeness from man's truest eidolon to that shape without sight or substance which is Them. They walk unseen and foul in lonely places where the Words have been spoken and the Rites howled through at their Seasons. The wind gibbers with Their voices, and the earth mutters with Their consciousness. They bend the forest and crush the city, yet may not forest or city behold the hand that smites. Kadath in the cold waste hath known’ Them’, and what man knows Kadath? The ice desert of the South and the sunken isles of Ocean hold stones whereon ‘Their’ seal is engraven, but who hath seen the deep frozen city or the sealed tower long garlanded with seaweed and barnacles? Great Cthulhu is Their cousin, yet can he spy Them only dimly. Ia! Shub-Niggurath! As a foulness shall ye know Them. Their hand is at your throats, yet ye see Them not; and Their habitation is even one with your guarded threshold. Yog-Sothoth is the key to the gate, whereby the spheres meet. Man rules now where They ruled once; They shall soon rule where man rules now. After summer is winter, after winter summer. They wait patient and potent, for here shall They reign again.’

    After reading that excerpt, you may be surprised to learn that Wilbur dies after being mauled by a guard dog in situ – as to why, well, you’d need to read the book to learn that. I’m not about to spoil it all for you.

   And so, now we’re reaching the end of this post, what of the ‘Curiosities’ mentioned in the title of this piece? Well, the curiosities are in fact my own – to wit, how can people base a belief or even a religion on something that they’ve read?  Now I’m all for people reading , especially if it’s a book I’ve written and, even though what I write is based on observation and personal experience, I don’t expect, or even want ( maybe when I’m older  I might feel differently - who knows ? ) people to build temples and worship me in them as appealing as the thought is . The whole point is a writer writes and hides lies in truths and truths in lies usually with the intention of hopefully entertaining you - so if they tell you something is in fact an invention, a work of fiction, then take note. On the other hand, if they tell you something is completely true and that you should ignore everything else then  maybe it's time to run like hell. I’m not sure who’s the most dangerous in those cases, the author or the reader? And that is all I’m trying to say.

D W Storer August 2018/2019

Once We Were Giants?

Once We Were Giants ? 

   Nephilim & Crystal Skulls:  As a child my interest was aroused on this subject via an unlikely source – Arthur C Clarke’s 'Mysterious Worlds'. I had seen the television programme, bought the book, but wasn’t satisfied. It seemed to me there was something not being said, and I wondered why?

   Back in the 70’s there wasn’t a lot of material available on the subject, even in the local library. And rooting through second hand book shops proved to be frustrating. Nearly forty years later, I finally came to a theory of sorts. It is just a theory, I can’t offer any proof or evidence to back this up, it’s merely a vision that comes now and again and seems to repeat itself, as if a message - one that it is often reflected in those poems and books I have written.

   The first book I came across that offered any real notions on the subject was ‘The Book Of Enoch’ and there I read of “Watchers”  ,“Nephilim” , “Wars”, and “Floods”. It struck me as a peculiar thing- a Jewish text dating from around 300BC that seemed to reflect elements of Gilgamesh, a work preceding it by some 2200 years, about a King born of Gods.

    The more I read of this, and other similar works, the more the thought came to me that these ‘legends’ if they were indeed legends - were being repeated throughout history in one form or another, and was there a reason other than evolving religions and politics? What if there was a great Truth behind them all that had been hidden beneath mistranslations and cultural differences? What if, at one time, a Higher Race had existed? Was there a time of Giants? I had to look further, for I could not shake the feeling that these ‘tales’ would have some bearing on my life.

     I had to first consider ‘Angels’ not so much in the Biblical sense, but as actual entities that were more than just a spiritual force. Were they spiritual beings that were able to take on a physical form, or perhaps already having one - living, breathing, talking, and walking amongst us. What then, if that was possible, would result if they mated with our ancestors? More to the point, what if they actually were our ancestors and humanity has regressed both mentally and physically?

    There is an old saying, “There is no new knowledge, only old knowledge rediscovered” and with that thought I wondered: if all these tales are true, why have they been forgotten and more to the point why are they so often denied? It’s a puzzle, an enigma, that has preyed upon me for years and has only been made worse by learning certain ancient ‘technologies‘ that according to conventional teachings could not have existed.

    Working ‘batteries’ made of clay, the ‘Baghdad battery’ for instance, dated possibly approx. 250 BC; statues electroplated with layers of gold measuring a thickness of mere microns. I had to ask, how was this possible? Are archaeologists and historians mistaken, or do they have something to be hidden? So many questions, they seem to multiply each time I find a new piece of information. And I will say that with the internet and the myriad of sites out there it’s a real task to decipher anything that may be useful, or real, notwithstanding the lack of time to research this subject but as Galileo said ‘All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is to discover them.’

    And so I needs must continue on this journey, groping blindly in the dark as it were to find the truth. If indeed there is one to be found.

Upon this path

This journey mine

Where echoes come

From Other minds

What hidden dreams

Are there to find?

   Are we the bastard off spring of a higher race?

(a real photo- or a hoax?  what do you think?)

   William Blake once said, “What is now proved was once only imagined.” Are we the bastard off spring of a higher race? By a peculiar instance of chance a bible passage was quoted to me by a friend on face book after I had posted a poem. It seemed coincidental, yet took on a greater meaning when I started to work on this passage, as if I were being urged on ;

    Genesis 6:4, “There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came unto the daughters of men, and they bear children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old men of renown.” The giant off spring of this union between the sons of God and the daughters of men were called the Nephilim.

    In the collective sub-consciousness of all races, within the creeds and beliefs, perhaps there are channels that can be tapped by not only psychics but also by those who can have a mind to do so- blood memories, for example, amplified by some force unknown that drives us on to seek our beginnings?

    Are all religious texts based upon real events? Altered, then, over the centuries to fit in with the political needs of the times?  Pondering this, another question arose: ‘if there was indeed a higher Race of Giants, did they evolve here or were they in fact from somewhere else?’

   Von Daniken, whose works I read during my teenage years, wrote that Alien races had visited the Earth, taught us various technologies and had been worshipped as Gods, Anunnaki, Fallen Angels, Nephilim ? And so again the puzzle became more complex. Yet, in my search, and I search in ways that may differ from the methods employed by others, I sought a vision. Which came when it, or I, was ready. 

I lay at rest, though not to sleep

And whilst at peace did vigil keep

For sight to come through other eye

When gentle as an autumn sigh

Quick as silvered thread in sky

Though I could never tell the why

What world this was,

I cannot say

Where upon white sand the sea did play

And in this night as bright as day

From waters rose Dark-winged Angel,

And dark-orbed stars joined his refrain

Joyfully, without restrain

"Ar Ya Ma Th e O”

(From The Key of The Storm - D W Storer 2010)

Available on Amazon worldwide

   

What did it mean? I have my thoughts, and leave you to your own. But I will close by saying that I wonder more and more if we are not the lesser children of greater sires, and so I am only sure of one thing - Once, we were giants

May your Gods

Whoever they may be

Walk beside you always

D W Storer 2018/2019