FROM THE GREAT LIBRARY OF DREAMS 122 - They Go to the Fire by Jim Moon

In this podcast, a dark tale for Hallowe'en night, very much in the spirit of Ray Bradbury and Richard Matheson, by Mr Jim Moon himself.

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HYPNOGORIA 272 - The Origins of Halloween Part XV

In this chapter we explore Hallowe'en in the mid-nineties, and chart the rise of The Crow, Angela returns from Hell in Night of the Demons 2, go trick or treating with Richie, Eddie and a cattle prod, and suffer Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers.

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HYPNOGORIA 271 - The Origins of Halloween Part XIV

In this chapter we look at what was a bumper year for Hallowe'en - with 1993 delivering classics such Tim Burton's A Nightmare Before Christmas, Disney's Hocus Pocus, a film of Ray Bradbury's The Halloween Tree, and the first publication of Roger Zelazny's classic novel A Night in Lonesome October

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FROM THE GREAT LIBRARY OF DREAMS 120 - Halloween in a Suburb by HP Lovecraft

Halloween in a Suburb 

by HP Lovecraft

The steeples are white in the wild moonlight,

     And the trees have a silver glare;

Past the chimneys high see the vampires fly,

     And the harpies of upper air,

     That flutter and laugh and stare.

For the village dead to the moon outspread

     Never shone in the sunset’s gleam,

But grew out of the deep that the dead years keep

     Where the rivers of madness stream

     Down the gulfs to a pit of dream.

A chill wind weaves thro’ the rows of sheaves

     In the meadows that shimmer pale,

And comes to twine where the headstones shine

     And the ghouls of the churchyard wail

     For harvests that fly and fail.

Not a breath of the strange grey gods of change

     That tore from the past its own

Can quicken this hour, when a spectral pow’r

     Spreads sleep o’er the cosmic throne

     And looses the vast unknown.

So here again stretch the vale and plain

     That moons long-forgotten saw,

And the dead leap gay in the pallid ray,

     Sprung out of the tomb’s black maw

     To shake all the world with awe.

And all that the morn shall greet forlorn,

     The ugliness and the pest

Of rows where thick rise the stones and brick,

     Shall some day be with the rest,

     And brood with the shades unblest.

Then wild in the dark let the lemurs bark,

     And the leprous spires ascend;

For new and old alike in the fold

     Of horror and death are penn’d,

     For the hounds of Time to rend.

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COMMENTARY CLUB HALLOWEEN SPECIAL - Sinister

For our traditional Hallowe'en special, we come face to face with the boogieman as we revisit a modern classic - Sinister (2012) 

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Hypnogoria Halloween Advent Calendar - Door 31 - Into the Hallowe'en Night

Transcript from the Into The Night radio show, broadcast on Radio Redvale, Tuesday 31st October 2023

Thanks Trish! Hello folks, as you can hear I’m in the market square in Haggleton! We had a terrific lantern parade and the fireworks were truly spectacular! And as you hear they are still going off! Behind me the huge effigy of Dr Fell is being totally consumed by the bonfire and the atmosphere is simply terrific! However you are now listening to Into the Night Hallowe’en special with me Mike Nelson and the spooky fun isn’t over yet!  Because I am not setting out on a ghost hunt and you are all invited! Don’t touch that dial, this is going to be a night to remember! 

Ok then folks, we are just going into the not so secret location, it is the Mains Museum basement. Basements and let me get the door open. Here we go ,let’s get in, and just give me one moment and I’ll head over to the main mic. Let’s lock the door, there we go. Okey dokey folks, let’s switch over

*spooky theme music plays*

And there we are! Sounding a bit more familiar, yes?  Okey dokey folks! So then you are listening to Into the Hallowe’en Night with me Mike Nelson, and this is a very special live broadcast! Tonight we are out and about, away from the cosy studio and the tender care of Producer Raquel and on location as it were! So what’s the story, well, allow me to take you through our set-up and the plan for the night! 

So then I will be ghost hunting here in the basements of the Mains Museum, formerly known as Mordyke House, and often still known locally as the Old Morgue! Apparently it's a bit of a hot spot for ghostly activity but I will fill you in the details in a bit. 

Right then, tonight the museum has given us access only to these sub basement rooms, we are not allowed upstairs as the insurance for the exhibits do not allow for a local DJ bumbling about! But that's ok, as the museum itself isn’t where the main paranormal action is anyway!

So where are we exactly? Well then, I am set up in what used to be the night porter's quarters. It's just below the ground floor, and it's a cosy little room just near the back entrance. It's all wood panelled still, in fact unlike the rest of the museum which has been modernised, all the rooms down here are still Victorian. Well, not all quite original, for this lovely old building was disused for many years. But for example we still have the original fireplace and mantlepiece in here. In fact, we've got a cosy fire going in the grate. You can probably just hear the occasional crackle. Let's listen… There we have the tick of an old clock too. Very peaceful to be honest! 

Anyhow, back when Mordyke House was the home of the Goodwin family, this was where anyone on night duties was stationed. The Goodwins were funeral directors and served as coroners too. But as the Grim Reaper never sleeps there was always someone on duty, ready to attend to anyone who had a bereavement during the night.And here is where they would have been.

But tonight this will be my, our, headquarters. As well as all the electrickery for broadcasting, and a relay to the main station I also have a special ghost hunting laptop.  Now there are three other rooms on this level, just used for storage these days. And by all accounts as we will hear later, very odd things happen down here.

So how am I going to hunt ghosts on the radio I hear you ask! Well now, I must admit I did want to go the whole hog and have infrared cameras and a live video stream going out on the website and YouTube. But Them Upstairs said absolutely not, that would be way too expensive Michael! I was also up for staying the whole night down here, but they said I could only be on air for my usual slot! I know, some people have no Hallowe’en spirit! 

So then, what kit have I got! Well, as some one, i.e. yours truly,  blew the show’s budget on the prize for the Halloween poetry contest, I had to improvise! But I think I found a brilliant solution. One that comes in the shape of video doorbells! I got a set of them and placed one in each key location. Now these little gadgets have come on leaps and bounds in the last few years. Firstly I have a live camera feed from each going into the laptop here. Secondly they have microphones too so we can listen in too. Thirdly, they have night vision. And best of all, they have sound and motion detection. Basically if anything moves, or even makes a noise, these babies will not only alert me, but also automatically start recording! So if anything happens, we should get it on tape. And these things are very very sensitive! What's more they were very very cheap too, which got me back in the good books! 

Now for your benefit, I've rigged up the alerts so each room has its own sound, as I will now demonstrate. Ok we have one in the main corridor - 

*high pitched bleep*

And the next is Storage Area One - 

*medium pitched bleep*

And then we have Storage Area Two

*low pitched bleep*

 And finally,  the room the staff have somewhat ominously dubbed “The Crypt” - 

*deep pitched bleep*

There we are! So remember those sounds and listen out for them! Now then, if you are wondering, the crypt isn't in fact the old mortuary. That was on a level below this one! However, that was filled in and sealed up a long time ago, and there is a story about that I'll tell later.

Now then, my special laptop is totally portable, and the mic I'm using is wireless so this means I can actually go roving around to investigate if necessary. But as I'm not tied to this desk here, I propose that through the course of the evening we will go and do a little vigil in each of the rooms to see if we can experience anything paranormal! 

Now I'm sure you've seen ghost hunts on the telly before and you know there's a lot of waiting about in the dark! But fear not, you won't just be stuck listening to me twiddling my thumbs! To begin with we have brought the Ghost Bag… Will the jingle work, yes! 

*Ghost Bag jingle plays*

…Because we have had some letters about weird things that have gone on in this place! Furthermore we have the results of our spooky spectacular Halloween Poetry contest to announce too. Now we had so many brilliant entries Producer Rach suggested we have not just a winner but a top three and through the course of the evening I will be reading out the winning three entries on air! How dare they say this show has no class! So then gang, we've got lots to keep us busy! 

Ok, let's check in on the camera feeds. All dark and quiet in Storage One. Much the same in Storage Two, although there appears to be a moth or something flitting about. And yes, it is a moth. Definitely not an orb. Or dust as I call them. If this was a certain TV show we would be all running around screaming. Anyhow, all is well in the corridor, good good. And what about the crypt? Let’s see…  Well, unfortunately everything is behaving itself in there.

Hang on, are we sure ghosts are aboard tonight? I mean, it's not their one night a year off or anything is it? If you know, do get in touch! Remember you can text or email the station as usual and Raquel will relay them to me here! 

Now then, on a more serious note, I think I always knew that we could rustle up more than twelve ghosts. I've lived here all my life and there's always been ghost stories. Plus one of the nice things about doing this job, is I get to meet all sorts of people and it seems most folks have a spooky story or two. Which is why Ghost Bag is so popular I think. 

But I did start wondering -  are some places more haunted than others? And how do buildings get haunted in the first place? Well, last week I took a stroll down the library and I quizzed our resident history expert, my friend and yours, Mr Michael Dalby. Because there aren't many folks who know more about Haggleton history than him! 

So then while I trundle down to set up in our first location, let's hear what he had to say! Roll the tape please Raquel! 

*jingle*

Hhmm now that is an interesting question. Let's start with the basics - what makes a single haunting. Well, the common theory these days is what is often referred to as the Stone Tape theory named after a famous creepy TV film by Nigel Kneale from the 1970s. But the theory was actually posited by a retired archaeologist TE Lethbridge. He came up with the idea that so called ghosts and hauntings might be a sort of recording. He theorised that events in involving strong emotions can imprint on the environment. And when people are in a certain frame of mind, they accidentally set them of playing as it were. This is why ghosts are nearly always people who loved a certain place, or had some terrible trauma or tragedy there.

But he went further, some places due to natural conditions, such as the earth's magnetic field and whatnot, took these recordings better than others. And later folks have advanced the idea that once one recording has been made, it is easier for a second, and then a third, and so forth. Hence some places acquire a plethora of hauntings. 

However, there is another theory too that is similar but significantly different. The basics are the same, that events involving powerful emotions have a permanent effect on the locations they occur in. But this second theory claims that very powerful events do not make recordings but actually trapping spirits, or parts of spirits, in them. And this would explain why in some hauntings the ghosts aren’t just repeating the same actions over and over again, but are conscious and what's more, seemingly aware of us! This theory also claims that objects as well as places can make this, I don't know, psychic net effect. This is why we get stories of cursed artefacts or ghosts that haunt wherever their former belongings are.

Well folks there you have it! Very interesting food for thought. I must admit I do like the Stone Tape theory, where the spooks and spectres we see are just really well like film recordings. Sitting in here, alone, tonight, that makes it a little less scary! I mean, who's scared of old videos eh! 

But in so many of the stories you have kindly and bravely shared with me over the last few weeks, the hauntings often sound, well, a bit more interactive, shall.we say. And in some cases, seem to be reacting to what we do. But enough of that for now! I'm spooking myself! 

So then, I am now in the rather dark and to be honest rather chilly Storage One area! It's a rather big room with steel shelving units and lots of boxes. Nothing valuable down here though folks. Mostly cleaning and admin supplies, plus stock for the gift shop I understand. All very mundane and boring you might think. However let me tell you folks, being down here, in the dark on a Halloween night, it doesn't seem quite so boring shall we say. I can't see too much, and even though we have night vision on your little camera gizmo in here, there's still lots of shadows and dark corners where something could be hiding! Brrrr! Come on, keep it together Mike! 

Hang on, did you hear that? I don;t know if the mic will have picked it up. Some very low thudding. Like something big being dropped or moving. Let’s just check in on our cameras. No, they picked up nothing down here. Could well be something outside. Maybe a truck. Possibly there’s some post lantern parade packing up going on. Let me just listen for a moment… No…No, can’t hear anything, but it sounds like the wind is picking up a bit out here. 

Right then, I'm just going to settle here and have a little vigil as it were. But so you aren't stuck with dead air, let me tell you about some of the phenomena reported down here. And as it happens, there's a letter in the ghost bag all about this particular area. It's from a staff member who would rather not be named! Apparently the head curator does like any talk of spooky stuff! Anyhow our gal on the inside writes…

Dear Mike, just dropping you a quick line about where I work, the Mains Museum. Despite its somewhat troubled history it is by and large a lovely friendly place these days, with a warm and friendly atmosphere. However there is one place myself and several other members of staff rather dislike, one of the storage rooms in the basement. I have never seen anything down here, but things do seem to move around on their own. At first I thought it was just me being a bit forgetful. But over time, I have become convinced that there is something down there that delights in messing things up. For example a box of dinosaur models will disappear and be found hidden among the paper supplies at the other end of the room. Once the contents of a sealed up box, fresh from the supplier, had been swapped with some cleaning materials. Other staff have noticed this happening too, and we are always getting into trouble for taking too long to get things from this particular storage room.

Well, now that is very weird! Now I might be able to shed some light on that a bit later on! However funnily enough I also had another letter about this particular area. And this comes from a chap called Patrick Le Fanu. Now Pat is retired now but, in his younger days he apparently worked on the renovations on the building back in 2014. And he writes - 

Dear Michael, when I was a contractor our firm had the gig doing the rewriting and electrics in what is now the Mains Museum. It was a long and fiddly job, and we weren’t the first crew who had been working in there. Before us there been brickies, plasterers and chippies, some of whom were still finishing up bits and bobs when we started rewiring the place. Now, a few of these guys started pulling our legs about the place being haunted and whatnot, but we paid it no mind. Just banter, you know. Or so we thought. 

Now most of the job, while a bit of a pig, went smoothly enough. That is until we started in the sub basements, and then we had no end of troubles. And not all of them I can explain. Fuseboxes would blow for no reason, wires would melt and light bulbs explode. Eventually things began to settle down and play nice. But then that’s when we started to notice that things would get moved about. Little things at first, materials being shifted around and such. But then our tools would disappear. Often just when your back was turned, a hammer or a set of pliers would go walkabout. Often we would find them a bit later, and often in another part of the building, with no good explanation of how they could of got there. A couple of times, missing tools turned up in areas, I would swear had been locked off and no one could have got in. We were quite glad to get finished up and out of there. 

So there you go, apparently there is something with sticky fingers down here and has been for a while! But these reports have given me an idea! Before I toddle off to the next room, I'm going to set up what proper ghost hunters call a trigger object test. Now I got in touch with our gal on the inside, and she said this mischievous entity is particularly fond of moving toys about, so I picked out this fun little figure of a knight in armour and I'm doing to leave him stood up on a piece of paper and mark his exact position on it. And we shall see if that tempts whatever lurks down here into playing a trick on us!

  

So then, time to visit our second location, Storage Two. Now while I trundle off there, we are going to hand over back to the studio, where Producer Raquel has the announcement of who came third in our Halloween poem contest! 

Hello folks I'm Yesterday Mike! Yes, it's me Mike Nelson recording this for you Monday night in the studio! So while Future Me is wandering the haunted basements of the Mains Museum, I'm here to bring you the poem that took bronze in our Halloween Poem contest! As I hope Future Me has explained, the standard was so high, and that we thought we would read the top three verses on the air tonight, plus rustle up some extra goodies for the other two winners! Now then in third place was a poem from a young lad named Sydney Newman! No, wait, I've got that wrong! A young lady by the name of Sydney! Just like Neve Campbell in the Scream movies! And her poem is called Haggleton Halloween Party and it goes like this - 

In the village of Haggleton, 

Leaves rustle and the winds howl, 

The night of Halloween is upon us, 

And ghosts are on the prowl.

The children are dressed in costumes, 

They go door to door for treats, 

And Mike is on the radio, 

With tales of ghosts and haunted streets.

The moon is full and bright, 

Casting eerie shadows on the ground, 

The air is crisp and cold,

And the village comes alive with sound.

The church bells toll at midnight,

As the spirits rise from their graves, 

We all hold our breath, 

And try to be very brave

But fear not, dear villagers,

For Halloween is a time of cheer, 

So let’s dance around the bonfire,

And celebrate this time of year.

Wow! Incredible eh folks! And a very worthy winner! As I said, the standard was very high indeed! You folks are so talented! Congratulations Sydney! Your prizes will be in the post first thing tomorrow! Now back over to Future Me on the Into the Halloween Night Special! 

*jingle*

Thank you Yesterday Mike! What a great poem! And beautifully read out may I say too! 

So then, I'm now deeper into the depths of the basements, in what we call Storage Two. This is a bigger room I think, there’s a bit of an echo in here. Still got all the original wood panelling in here, and not much else, just a few old crates. Now back when Mordyke House was the Goodwins funeral parlour, this I am reliably informed, was the workshop where they made the coffins! So nothing that creepy going on down here over the years, just some woodwork and carpentry! At least that's what I'm telling myself now! 

However the Goodwin family used to have a saying - “don’t go into the cellar!”. And why? Well, Mordyke House has been haunted for a very long time! Nowadays we tend to assume that the old place has a sinister reputation due to the activities of Dr Fell back in the 1900s, and after his capture, the old place was left standing empty for literally decades. And as well we all know, any old house left empty will soon be said to be haunted! But apparently this place was very haunted at least as far back as the 18th century. From letters held at the Local Studies Centre at the library, I discovered that patriarch Jonathan Goodwin picked up Mordyke House for a song as the previous residents had left citing “diverse manifestations of a distressing nature”. Now being a funeral director and a mortician, old Mr Goodwin perhaps didn’t spook very easily, and indeed the family both lived and prospered here for many decades. 

But that’s not to say there wasn’t a haunting. Several family members in diaries, letters and memoirs spoke at length about the unusual events that were prone to occur at Mordyke House. The figure of a ghostly rector was often seen in the grounds. While it was said on certain nights of the year a phantom coach carrying the lost soul of Jacob Mordyke who was executed for his part in an ill-considered plot against Elizabeth I in 1575, returns to the grounds of his old home. But the main haunting was inside the house itself, and focused on the lower levels, a troublesome being the family nicknamed Old Peril. Now Old Peril was never seen, and is probably what we would call a poltergeist in the modern age. He slammed doors, threw objects, smashed crockery, and even pulled the children’s hair! And he was particularly fond of guess what? That’s right, stealing and hiding objects. One time - 

*Storage Room One alert sounds*    

Oh ruddy hell! That was Storage One!  What was that?  Ok, folks we have a situation here! Just looking at the cam now… And the little knight has fallen over… Just rewinding the footage now… Hang on, let’s see, bear with me for a moment folks… 

*a distant thump is heard*

Ah hang on… Right then ,right then. I think I can see what has happened here. Sadly I don’t think we have got a ghost acting up here. There's no sound or motion detected before the knight topples over, but we did get an alert at the same time from the corridor cam, which picked up a noise. And that's the thumping I heard earlier. So then I think…I think, what’s happened here is that they are still doing something noisy outside, possibly related to packing up the lantern parade lights or something, and well, vibrations knocked over our little knight… Yes, there it is again. I’m guessing there’s a truck or some big vehicle going down the back street behind us, which is why the corridor cam picked up a noise. Sorry folks! That was really my fault, I shouldn’t have left the knight standing up as being at ground level there are bound to be vibrations from passing traffic outside. But have no fear, on the way to the next room, I will lay him down properly and mark the position and we will take it from there! 

Ah where was I? Dear me, I have totally lost the thread of what I was saying! But yes, I was talking about Old Peril and the Goodwins. Now despite having a resident astral hooligan, the Goodwins seem to have reached some sort of accord with him or it. Apparently according to accounts several of the younger Goodwins wrote in later years, they quite enjoyed having a mischievous invisible playmate, and would leave things out for Old Peril to smash. And perhaps he is still here, and just wants to play again?  

Well then I think we’ve had enough excitement in here! I’ll go and reset our trigger object, and make my way to the Crypt! And while I do that, we will hand back over to Yesterday Me with our next winning poem! 

*jingle*

Thank you Future Me, hope it's not too scary for you buddy! Anyhow we have a rather scary poem taking silver! It's from Kevin Cole, and we thought it was the spookiest of the entries we received! It's called simply Halloween in Redvale! 

Witches cackle

Cauldrons crackle

The wind blows a gale

At Halloween in Redvale

Ghosts moaning

Ghouls groaning

All the spectres wail

At Halloween in Redvale

Monsters stalking

The dead walking

Under a moon so pale

At Halloween in Redvale

Bonfire burning

Evil returning

Trapped in a ghostly tale

At Halloween in Redvale

How about that then! Did that get the hairs on the back of your neck standing up? Well done, Kevin! That was super eerie, nearly a little horror story in verse! A bumper box of prizes are heading your way soon! Ok then back to Future Me!

*jingle*

Thank you Yesterday Mikey! I quite envy you sitting up there in that nice warm studio! Meanwhile I’m down here! Right our little knight is reset, and I’ve come to the deepest, darkest part of the sub basements. Well, the ones they will let me fool about in, at any rate! This is the last of the three adjoining rooms and it seems a long way back to the corridor and cosy night porters office! 

So then, this is the room the staff have nicknamed “the Crypt” and to be honest I can see why! This is a  smaller room, and at one time this was what they used to call a chapel of rest. Yes, the dearly departed who were ready for burial would be, well, resting in here, until the funeral hearse came and the pallbearers carried them away. And while much of the original furnishings are of course long gone, there is something about this space that makes you want to be respectful and whisper. Hence I’m trying to tone down my usual bouncy jovial manner in here.

 Interestingly from what I’ve read, it seems in the Goodwins’ day even Old Peril respected the, what’s the word, sanctify? of this place. That’s something at least, I suppose. I don’t have to worry about any unseen hands chucking a vase at the back of my head! No, but seriously folks, there is something about this place that makes me want to rein in my usual inane chattering. And that’s quite something for a  local DJ, believe you me!  I mean it’s very spooky of course, I mean it’s dark, cold, and it’s Halloween night, and I think I can hear it’s started belting it down outside. But more than that, there’s something well, sort of churchy about this room, but also something slightly sinister maybe? I’m not sure, but maybe this old place is starting to get to me!   

But that might be because of the next story I have to tell you. And it is fairly creepy. Now as I have said, Mordyke House has long had a reputation for being haunted, way before Dr Fell took up residence in the 1880s. After 1922 and his arrest, the house lay empty for many years. Although it was used briefly during the war as a temporary HQ for the RAF, and again in the 1950s it was leased out for a while as temporary office space. However no one ever wanted to stick around long it seems. It’s around this time that we start hearing occasional reports of strange figures being seen in the grounds, or looking out of broken windows. 

Of course, in many instances, it was simply probably just wandering tramps taking temporary shelter here. But interestingly, going over the local records, there has never been the usual problems associated with derelict or empty properties -no squatters, no use by druggies or vagrants. Even local vandals largely gave it a wide berth and… oh sorry folks, what are they doing out there, sounds like they got an elephant tramping about… Don’t know if you can hear that. Ah, seems to be dying down again now. 

Right, where was I. Oh yes, local vandals. Of course, the windows would get put through from time to time, but there was remarkably little damage inside, no smashed furniture or defaced walls. It seems even the criminal element preferred to stay a stone’s throw away from here. Literally.  And stories of strange faces and odd noises continued. And eventually tales of Haggleton’s haunted house reached the ears of a fellow called Thurston Wentworth.

 Now he is largely forgotten these days, but back in the 1950s he was something of a minor celebrity. And he was a ghost hunter. From what I’ve read he was very much wanting to carve out a career in the limelight as a new Harry Price. However unlike Price, he was more interested in fame than actual investigations, and he styled himself as a big game hunter of spooks and spectres. He wrote several books full of wild claims, and his investigations tended to be more publicity stunts than proper ghost hunts to be honest. 

Naturally a night in a former funeral parlour, that had been the workplace of a killer and graverobber appealed to his instincts for publicity. And so in October 1963 he came here-

*Corridor cam alert sounds*

Woah, what’s that! The corridor cam! Ok, let’s take a look. Pulling up the live view now, and switching on the sound. Now can I patch this into the feed you are hearing? Let’s see! Let’s get the volume up… Ah right, there we are, the corridor is totally empty, but let me just run a little sweep with the camera - yes, we can move it about 60 degrees either side… Let’s have a look… No, nothing down there towards the entrance door. Though it looks like the floor is a bit wet. But as I hope you can hear, it is lashing it down out there now, and there’s even a bit of thunder by the sound of it. Nice crisp night my arse, I ll be having words with weatherman Tim later… Anyhow, sweeping back the other way now, almost pitch black looking the other way, no, wait, I can see again. I think there might have been a glitch with the night vision function there, at first it was as if there was something large and black blotting out the view. 

Ok all clear, I think. Let me just play back the clip the alert captured. Again can’t see anything, although the camera has picked up some sort of noise alert. Let’s listen… What is that? Rain leaking in somewhere. Very squelchy and distorted though. And what’s that, all went suddenly black again, like a huge solid shadow slid past the camera. Solid shadow? What on earth are you talking about Mikey? Hmm, I think perhaps we have got some very minor power outages. Just flicking off the power off for mere milliseconds, but enough to glitch the camera. I think we are ok. Right! False alarm again folks! As  I said, these cameras are very sensitive. Possibly there was a little flash of lightning then that threw the night vision off and on again, as they automatically switch depending on light levels. Right, what about all the other cams? Ok all good too. All quiet. Well, apart from the odd roll of thunder in the background it seems. 

So then back to the story!  So Wentworth set up here, in this room on the night of October 3rd 1963. And he never came out again. No body was ever found. All his equipment was here, but no sign of the man himself. What happened to him? We just don’t know. Now at the time, there was more to this room. That wall over there is a new addition. Back in ‘63, behind there was a staircase leading down to the next level where the mortuary was. And according to old plans for the building, there were grates and manholes leading down into the sewers below. It’s been theorised that he ventured too far down and had some kind of accident. Hence in early 1964, the lower levels were permanently sealed off, to prevent any future unfortunate accidents. Anyway-

*alert for Storage One*

Hold on, what’s that? Storage One again folks! Ok, pulling up the cam feed now! My lord, the knight has gone. Not moved, not fallen. Just gone! Ok folks, going to check the recorded footage now. Rewinding… Damn, it! Looks like another glitch, a big wash of darkness over the screen again! But when it clears, our little guy in armour is no longer there! Things are certainly hotting up in here now folks! Right, I’m going to go and investigate, but while I do that, back to the studio for the announcement of the overall winner of the Halloween Poetry contest!

*jingle*

Thank you Future Me! Well then folks, it’s the big moment! Time to announce the winner of our spooky seasonal poetry competition! As we’ve said, the standard was very high, and it was a tough call to pick an overall winner. But in the end we went for a verse by Ms. Sariah Hearn, which we felt summed up nicely all the fun we’ve had over the last few weeks delving into the Ghost Bag. And so then, here in all its glory is the winning poem which is called simply Into the Night! 

Shadows lengthen on Chapel Hill

Where ancient ghosts linger still,

In Thistle Forest things walk after dark,

And strange shapes haunt Bradbury Park

A hungry ghost in an attic room,

A bony face leers in the gloom,

A long dead teacher haunts the school,

If you don't believe, you're the fool! 

We share our stories every night,

Sat by the fire warm and bright,

Telling tales of things unseen,

This is Haggleton's Hallowe'en

Congratulations Sariah, and happy Hallowe’en! We hope you enjoy your all-expenses paid trip and we’d like to invite you onto the show when you get back to tell us all about it! So then, that’s all from me Yesterday Mike, back to the ghost hunt! 

Right folks, I’m back in the cosy confines of the night porter’s office, and I am inclined, I’ll be honest,  to stay right here for the rest of the show! I couldn’t find hide nor hair of our little Knight. I’m guessing he will turn up somewhere unexpected. But it has put the wind right up me, and no doubt! How much longer have I got here… let’s see over another hour! Ruddy hell! Perhaps things will start settling down a bit now. Gotta say folks, this isn’t turning out to be as much fun as I thought it would . Should I delve into the Ghost Bag? You know, I’m not sure my nerves can take it at the moment! 

Ok, ok Mike, pull yourself together. Let’s check the cameras, ok all looking nice and quiet. Just as I like it! Right, that's better, calm … calm. Ok we will do a letter! I am a professional after all! What have we got here! Ah yes, this one struck me as odd, but maybe some of you can help me out. It’s from a Mr Bob Block and he writes. 

Dear Mike, I know this will make me sound like a right old fossil, but I remember a strange thing involving a call box. When we were kids, there was a story that went around, that said if you dial a certain number a strange voice would answer, and it would either say “Bring the coffins round the back”. Or “The doctor is out now” and once it asked if we were dead. We used to dare each other to ring the number from the phone box at the end of our street. Sadly I don't remember what the actual number was now. Does anyone else remember doing that back in the early 1970s. Or what it was all about! 

Well you heard the man! Do you have any idea what was going on there? Does anyone remember the number? Another time I might have been inclined to give it a ring on air for a laugh but I don't think I would try that tonight thank you very much! Ok, let’s have another… Now then… Hang on, what was that? What is it now? OK, ok, stay cool… I hope you can hear this folks, but I’m getting a knocking sound. But I’ve got nothing on the cams. Where is it coming from? It sounds like… it sounds like it's coming from below me somewhere. Oh lord, what the hell is going on! There it is again… Did you hear that… three knocks. I’m just bringing the mic closer to the floor… Can you hear that? Again Three knocks… but slower… 

Oh lord, I do not like this. I really don't like this… If you know any good exorcisms please email them into the station right bloody now! 

Ruddy hell, there it is again… three knocks… oh… no… wait… wait! Three quick, then three slow, and three quick again… Ruddy hell, it’s SOS… Jesus! S. O. bloody S… but who could be down there… Let me reply… Hello… can you hear me… knock twice for yes… Yes, two knocks… It’s from over there… let me see, let me see… MY lord… Hold on folks, there’s going to be a bit of racket here… You wont’ believe this but I think I’ve found a secret door… 

*Creaking*

No, wait, it’s not a secret door… of course not it’s a dumb waiter, let me prise it open… Hello? Can you hear me? Muffed response… What’s that.. Ok! I got it. Get in, or grab hold and OK I’ll haul you up…. Ah, almost there.. C'mon… come on… oh lord, they are in a bad way… covered in mud and dirt… Oh lord… Dalby… it’s Mr Dalby! Michael! Michael, are you ok? 

NEW VOICE  - Michael.. Who is this Michael?. You are confused, young man… I think you are having some sort of an attack, my boy. But don’t worry, I am a doctor… 

At dusk, when the sun has at last goes down,

Candles and bonfire scents haunt little towns.

Cardboard rockets pop into spangly stars,

And little shapes dart between the parked cars.

Pattering footsteps, wet pavements mutter.

Swirling dead leaves rise up from the gutter.

Dead masks groan, adorning little faces,

Ancient names spoken in suburban places.

As infant shadows scamper this way and that

All wet footprints and dropped candle fat.

Flickering lanterns bobbling down the dark streets,

Miniature ghouls out for tricks and treats.

Fog haloes around the ghostly street lights,

Mist creeps down lanes, a wet shroud for the night.

Twigs rake the sky with cold wooden fingers,

Some are long dead, but their ghosts still linger...

Don't stay out too late, and soon hurry home,

For some things tonight are best left alone

 

DIRECT DOWNLOAD - Door 31 - Into the Hallowe'en Night

Find all the podcasts in the HYPNOGORIA family here plus more articles on the weird and wonderful here-

HYPNOGORIA HOME DOMAIN 

Hypnogoria Halloween Advent Calendar - Door 30 - Local Haunts Part VI

Transcript from the Into The Night radio show, broadcast on Radio Redvale, Monday 30th October 2023

No, I don’t give a hoot what Caldecott says, I am putting out an appeal on air! You know it’s the right thing to do, they are just covering their incompetent backsides… Wooah ah! Hello folks! Apologies for that! Some gremlins in the works! So then where were we! Oh yes! 

And thanks Tim for the weather update! Well it looks like we are in for a fine crisp night ahead, and the omens are good for a fine and dry Hallowe’en tomorrow. This is Into the Night with me, Mike Nelson!  And don’t forget, tomorrow tonight we are having a very special Into the Hallowe’en Night special, full details on the spooky shenanigans coming up a bit later in the show! First up though, thank you for all our entries into our Hallowe’en Poetry Contest, we have been overwhelmed by the response and very glad to see so many of you getting into the spirit of the season! It’s gonna be tough choosing a winner let me tell you! 

And there is still time to enter if you are quick! Remember first prize is an all expenses paid trip to stay in a real life haunted hotel! So get your writing quills out! 

Now then, just a quick personal announcement from me - have any of you out there seen Mr Michael Dalby, the brilliant fella who runs the Local Studies section in our beloved town library! I’ve not been able to reach him and he hasn’t been in work since Friday. If you know where he is, please get in touch with me here at the station, as I’m a bit worried about him! Yes, yes, I know old Mikey is a bit of clucking mother hen… steady on Rach, I said clucking! But seriously, I am a tad worried, and if you know anything, please let me know ASAP!

Ok, in other news, don’t forget there is the big lantern parade tomorrow night in the market square, and we here at Radio Redvale will be bringing you live coverage of the big event! Plus there is that very very special edition of Into the Night tomorrow. For yours truly, Mr Mike Nelson will be going a-ghost hunting. And it’s all happening live and one air! And just where will I be broadcasting from.. Ah well, I will announce that in just a little while, so you all have to keep on listening! 

But now, for the penultimate time, let’s open up the old Ghost Bag!

*Ghost Bag jingle plays*

Man, I love that jingle! Right then, enough backslapping from me and on to our first letter of the evening. Now then guys, as I am sure I need not explain again, we are going to try and bag the world record for most haunted village in all of England, and the current title holder, Pluckley in Kent, only have twelve. 

Now then, over the last few weeks, we've rounded up a dozen of our own local spooks, and we've not actually wheeled out all the big guns just yet either! So then, onto what is most definitely our number thirteen! Unlucky for some? Well, very lucky for us! 

So then if you find a random person somewhere in the UK - and lord knows there are plenty of randos out there - and ask them if they have heard of Haggleton, provided they don't just say "where?" I'm betting the answer you will get is "oh that's the place with the haunted station that was on the telly!" 

Yea, it's our claim to fame sort of! In fact, because your ever diligent host did done do his homework, Fring Station has turned up on the old gogglebox, three times now! Back in 1975, current affairs programme, Nationwide - it was sort of like the granddad of The One Show for younger listeners - did a feature on vintage railways and our little station was featured. And being the spooky ‘70s, when lots of telly got scary, they even mentioned its resident spook! 

Then in the early 1990s, old Michael Aspell’s show Strange but True featured the haunted railway too. And then just a couple of years back we had Most Haunted here. But we don't like to talk about that, do we! Dearie me, so much screaming over what was clearly a moth! 

But I digress! Yes, I would have been very surprised, nay make that shocked and stunned, if we didn't have at least one letter about  an eerie encounter at Fring Station! And indeed I wasn't disappointed! You folks are the best, you know! So then to our first letter which comes from Charles Keeping, who writes -

Dear Michael, just dropping you a line to recount my encounter with one of our most famous ghosts. Now I admit, I was very familiar with the stories, but to be honest I did not believe a word of them. I have travelled many times from our station and never seen anything more shocking that the prices they charge these days for a sandwich! 

My encounter happened in the middle of the day. I had arrived early at the station to catch the 12.20 to Ashlington, and I had arrived in good time. It was a lovely spring day, so I was content to sit on the platform and read my newspaper.

I was engrossed in the crossword when a voice spoke to me, and I looked up to see an elderly man dressed in an old fashioned British Rail uniform. Now I hadn't took a train journey for several months, so I assumed they had decided on yet another rebrand and had gone for a retro look. The old man smiled politely and asked to see my ticket. Now as I am a bit of a dinosaur, I still always print out a copy of any tickets for travel just in case my phone goes on the blink. 

So I said “just a moment,” and had to rummage through my bag to retrieve it. I only looked away for mere seconds, yet when I presented it with a smile, I was completely alone. There was no one else on the entire length of the platform and literally nowhere the old railway man could have got to. 

Well, there you have it! And Charles isn't the only person to have seen the old railway man either. He has been seen regularly since the 1920s, and seems to enjoy doing this little vanishing trick. It is thought he is the ghost of one Henry Stephenson who worked all his life at Fring Station, and seemingly hasn't let a little thing like dying stop him coming into work still! 

However he is not the only spectre at Fring Station, as we shall see in our next letter. It's from Kevin Aitkin, who writes - 

Hi Mikey, quick one from me about Fring Station. I was there one November night waiting for the last train to come in. I was there to pick up my good lady who had been up to Ashlington on a hen do. As it was, the bloody train was late, and by this point the shop and ticket office was closed and shut up, so I was left on me tod on the freezing platform. Bloody perishing it was that night too.

While I was waiting I saw a light in the tunnel and I thought brill, trains here at last. But I couldn't hear nothing. The light come nearer and nearer and then I hear footsteps, like crunching on the gravel of the tracks. Who's this silly sod, I thought, he'll get himself ruddy flattened. 

Anyhow, the light comes out of the tunnel, all red and smoky, and I seen it was a lantern, old looking thing, a sooty bloke carrying it. But here's the thing, the look on that fellas mush put the wind right up me. I know it sounds daft but I was convinced he meant me harm, so I chucked me can of lager at him shouting "cop for that you crazy mothe-"

And I wont read out what Kev called him folks! But I think strong language was justified on this occasion, particular considering what happened next. Kev continues…

But the can went right through him, like it was smoke. The geezer just grinned that horrible grin and then just sorta, well, come apart, you know how like clouds drift to bits? Just like that, disappeared into a sooty mist. Seconds later the train came thundering out of the tunnel and I nearly messed myself. Drinks cabinet took a pounding when we got home.

I am not surprised! I hope the hangover wasn't too severe! But yes, young Kevin is not the only person to have had an encounter with this sinister gent. He is always described as being dressed in black, is covered in grime and soot, and is often carrying a lantern that burns with a smoky red light. Who is he? Well, we just don't know. However nearly everyone who has seen him reports a strong feeling of hostility and menace from him! 

However there appears to be another ghost at Fring Station, or rather just outside the station and seen by folks who have got a train there. Now this one is a bit of a scoop I think. Old Henry and the Lantern Man, who are our thirteenth and fourteenth ghosts, are rather well known. Both have been mentioned on the telly, and can be found listed in various gazetteers of ghosts and paranormal locations.

But the next phantom at Fring, we have found purely through your own letters. I have five messages, all sent independently, all reporting the same phenomena. All are relatively recent, occurring the last few weeks, and well, what they describe is quite odd. In fact, so odd it's not the kind of thing a half dozen folks would choose to make up! I will read you the most detailed sighting. It comes from a lady who wishes to remain anonymous, for what she saw was very strange indeed, and she was concerned about her sanity. She was of course delighted when I told her that other people had had the same uncanny experience. See it's good to share folks! Anyhow, this is what happened…

I had taken a train to go and pay my sister a visit. I booked a ticket online and made my way to the station. It was a wet day, part of that horrible damp spell we had last week. Luckily the train was on time, and the carriage was very quiet. 

The train set off, and although it was a dark, misty afternoon, I was enjoying looking out of the window, and taking in the lovely colours of the turning leaves. As I am sure everyone knows, the railway line winds its way out of town through Thistle Forest, and the display of trees crowned with gold, red and amber was quite breath-taking, despite the miserable weather. However nothing is ever perfect in this world for I could see one large tree that I thought was a bit of an eyesore really. It was tall and crooked, completely leafless, with sparse black branches. I assumed it was dead, you know a tree that has either got some disease or been struck by lightning. I know it sounds stupidly judgemental but I was utterly repelled by it. It looked slimy and well, unwholesome somehow. I thought someone should come and cut it down. 

Just as I thought that, it was as if the tree had heard me and it moved. At first I thought it must be falling down. But that wasn't it, there was no arcing over to the ground, rather it was more like the black monstrosity turned and lumbered off, black branches quivering as it disappeared into the forest. I have never been so shaken all my life. 

As I said I was able to reassure this lady that she isn't going crazy, for I have four other letters describing something very similar. Another correspondent writes -

Dear Mike, don't know if this counts but it certainly creeped me out. Had to bob up to Aisling last week, for a work training course. My motor was in the garage so I took the train. It was a horrible wet day and we had had that storm overnight. Anyhow on the way out, I noticed a big dead tree near the edge of the forest. It was black and twisted and I thought it must have been hit in the storm. So I got to Aisling and found the course had been cancelled, so less than half an hour later I was back on the train and coming home. But on the way back there was no sign of that black horrible tree. Don't know what to make of that, but it's really bothering me.

Again I have assured the gentleman he is not seeing things. But I must say I'm not sure what to make of it either! But I have three other sightings here in front of me, another person on a train who saw it and then found it had vanished when they looked again. A lady who saw a large black thing moving through the trees from the train. And another gentleman who had a very close encounter indeed. He wasn't on a train but out walking, he passed a large ugly tree he did not recall seeing before, one that smelt, in his words, like an open grave. He hurried passed on his way, but then heard strange noises behind him. When he looked round, the tree was gone. 

All very strange! Now they have all happened recently, and from talking to all concerned I know exactly where their sightings happened and they are all very close together. Now I won’t say on air where exactly or when because If I keep those details back I can corroborate any future sightings and weed out the jokers as it were. As for what is being seen, well I have no idea! Perhaps some sort of elemental? A ghost tree? If you have any ideas, do get in touch! But I think that counts as number fifteen! 

Now then, before we close the old Ghost Bag for tonight, it’s time to announce where tomorrow’s Into the Halloween Night special is coming from. Well, I’m going to be broadcasting from perhaps one of the most eerie places in the village, certainly the building with the darkest history. For tomorrow night I will be doing a live ghost hunt on air from the basements of the Mains Museum! Yes, from the Old Morgue itself! It’s going to be quite the night! From 6 PM onwards my colleague Trish Hartley will be bringing you live coverage of the annual All Hallows lantern parade and then from 9 onwards I will be broadcasting live from a place some say is the most haunted in all Haggleton! Don’t miss it! 

Right then, time for some music, and here’s a suitably seasonal piece called October Games! 

DIRECT DOWNLOAD - Door 30 - Local Haunts Part VI

Find all the podcasts in the HYPNOGORIA family here plus more articles on the weird and wonderful here-

HYPNOGORIA HOME DOMAIN 

Hypnogoria Halloween Advent Calendar - Door 29 - The Librarian's Tale - Epilogue - Some Items of Supporting Evidence

Transcript of Dictaphone recordings found in the house of Mr Michael Dalby

*tape begins*

From The Aisling Chronicle 1245, translation into modern English by Dr F. Machen

“And it was said that this Father Ambrose wouldst not receive a nomination for sanctity for it was said that he promiseth that a great miracle would come and he would return to life and walk the world once more. And yet weeks and months have elapsed and none can say that they have seen any appearance of a saintly return or any other species of resurrection bodily or otherwise. There is not even, they doth argue, a solitary rude stone or tomb where pilgrims may come to pay graces, nor any relic bequeathed to the holy church’s keeping that may give the faithful an object for their prayers and supplications. 

Yet others did argue most passionately, that did not the good brother heal the sick and giveth alms to the needy. Didst he not prophecy the very day upon which, come Hallowtide, would the emissaries of the Holy come to bid him part from the mortal ways? And most important over aught else, did not the good brother give strict instructions as to prayers and litanies to be recited to petition the Almighty that he might return once more and demonstrate the powers of the remembrance of the world and its true Creator? And is it not also the truth, that these prayers were not said, that these litanies were not performed, for plague and illness did decimate and scatter his followers. Should their weakness and failure be judged instead? Those whose lack of faith, courage and devotion did give succour to the Enemy and prevent the working of a miracle in this very land in this very age.”

*tape click*

Passage from Chapter 3 “Of The Dead” from The Remembrances of Amon by Dr Thaddeus Fell, Sublunary Press 1920 

“There are many survivals if the magician has the wit to investigate. In ancient cemeteries, there will be certain signs heralding the habitation of the tomb-folk, the burrowers beneath. It is their office to feast upon the dead and keep their secrets. They are of unclean aspect, and frequently bestial and dangerous to approach. However their knowledge, gleaned from the dreams of the dead may be of great use to the seeker of  Truth, and with the correct charms and protections they may be employed as servitors or minions. But beware, for their appetites are vast and unpredictable, and many an adept has ended up on a tomb slab to feed their young which are particularly loathsome and feral. 

Through chance and by intent, hybridisation has been possible, but the resulting children frequently revert fast to the ghoulish side of their heritage.

They are resilient, and seemingly free from mortality unless meeting physical accident, harm or injury. For some this option for survival will suffice. For it is possible, through certain rites, to join their kin, but as a method for survival for the True Initiate, it has little to recommend it.”

*tape click*

Passage from The Sussex Manuscript, itself a transcription of an occult text from the Renaissance called Cultus Maleficarum. The text is dedicated to Frederick I, Baron of Sussex, and is dated 1598. 

“The nethermost caverns are not for the fathoming of eyes that see; for their marvels are strange and terrific. Accursed is the ground where dead thoughts live new and oddly bodied, and evil is the mind that is held by no head. Truly did the wise man say that happy is the tomb where no wizard hath lain, and happy the town at night whose wizards are all ashes”

*tape click*

Not sure if this is relevant but anyway… 

From Nursery Rhymes or Mother Goose Rhymes Set to Music (1918) edited Samuel Barber

I do not like thee Dr Fell

The reason why I cannot tell

But this I know, and know full well

I do not like thee Dr Fell

*tape click*

Quote from a letter dated October 27th 1723 from Franklyn Haining to Cuthbert Bowen.

Taken from Monograph On The Trial and Execution of the Redvale Witch by Thaddeus Fell, Dresser Limited 1901

“When the goodly men did break down the cottage door, to arrest the witch Hemdyke,

many strange anatomies were discovered herein, some humankind, some of beasts, and others seemingly betwixt the two. Of these the witch only claims, “they are dead and perished now and naught else should matter to thee. None shall walk as some do”  

.

*tape click*

From The History of Witchcraft by Julian Karswell published by The Sublunary Press 1889

It would seem that in recent years an idea is gaining ground among various scholars that many figures, customs and other historical ephemera, often piled under the banner of folklore, are in fact relics and survivals of pagan times. This fledgling hypothesis, not yet a full theory, but that will surely be coming, claims that assorted legendary figures, from great heroes to local hobs and bogeys are distorted remembrances of ancient heathen gods. Various quaint customs and local traditions are dim echoes of forgotten pagan rites.

And some have gone further still, alleging that those unfortunates accused of practising witchcraft were the secret adherents of a surviving pagan faith, which Mother Church, in her great compassion and Christian forgiveness, sought to ruthlessly and bloodily exterminate. German historian Franz Josef Mone in 1839 published his ideas in a paper in which he asserted that the pre-Christian religion which degenerated into Satanic witchcraft was not Germanic in origin, but had instead been practised by slaves who had come in contact with the Greek cults of Hecate and Dionysus on the north coast of the Black Sea.

In 1862, French historian Jules Michelet published La Sorcière (The Witch), entertained similar misguided ideas, postulating a didactic struggle between working class peasants who worshipped Pan and a Roman catholic aristocracy. This was a truly courageous writer and thinker who would not be held back by petty matters such as a lack of corroborating historical sources or the slight wisp of anything resembling evidence. Crude and inconsequential speculations of this kind go far to justify those who deny Comparative Mythology the name and dignity of a science.

So called witchcraft it should be clear from my previous presentations is in fact a variety of different practises. To summarise what we have learned so far then. Firstly those unfortunates who confess to flying off to wild sabbats on the backs of rams, goats and various household utensils, if they were not simply deluded, seem to have been mere party to some illicit indulgence, to whit the knowledge of a recipe of commonly acquired herbs that brought on hallucinations and delirium of flight and fancy. Secondly others appear to have merely concocted wild tales of Satanic practises thanks to the forceful and cruel application of torture. The fact that these confessions deliver under duress match the accusations and wild ravings of the zealots who apprehended them speaks volumes, and indeed it is not coincidence that the truly learned men of these earlier eras sought to rule out testimony given under torture. 

However where we approach firmer territory is the testimonies of witches given freely at trial. These fall into two main varieties. Firstly there appears to have been many so-called witches who happily confessed to maleficarum, although it should be noted that they very rarely talk of meetings with devils or being part of a coven. Rather they operate on their own, and in fact seem highly ignorant of anything resembling a religious rite or magical incantations. In fact they do not possess any skills in magic at all, for all their witchcraft is performed by a familiar.  Usually taking the form of a small animal or bird, these familiars possess all the magical powers to change the world for good or ill. Furthermore they are not usually conjured up through rites or charms. Sometimes the witch was given the creature by another, but more often than not they merely turn up unbidden. The price for performing magical service for their adopted owner is not the worshi[p of Satan, but usually simply supping their alleged owner’s blood. I am given to think that these unfortunates were not truly witches as such but rather victims of predatory supernatural entities.  

But in the second category, whose numbers are far fewer, we do discover actual practitioners. Here we  have folks, often dubbed cunning men or women, who were learned in their way. They studied what would become botany, herbalism and medicine. Many had no knowledge of goetia or ars arcana. However some did, and indeed as we see in the history of alchemy, in ages past there was little to distinguish magic from science. And indeed, true magic, the real witchcraft is the pursuit of sciences, some now accepted, others still not.  

Clear historical evidence for this is found in the trial of Marianne Agnes, and recently documented in remarkable detail in a monograph by the antiquarian Dr Thaddeus Fell. From the transcripts of the court hearing, it becomes very clear that Ms. Agnes was a skilled healer, a knowledgeable herbalist, and I would suggest from her testimony, a student of anatomy and surgery too. Indeed the key evidence in her conviction was not dubious and childish talk of imps and Satan but the fact she had illicitly procured cadavers which I believe she was using not for morbid black magic but for study and dissection. 

Evidence presented in court included drawings she had made of “disassembled folk”, and various organs and body parts stored in jars and containers. In this regard, she was very much the forerunner of pioneering doctors and surgeons who later in the century would have legal troubles of their own for the methods they employed to acquire human specimens for study to give us the medical marvels we enjoy today.” 

*sound of an owl hooting*

Bloody owl! Hope that didn’t get picked up

*tape click*

Passage from Chapter 7 “Of Time and Memory” from The Remembrances of Amon by Dr Thaddues Fell, Sublunary Press 1920 

   

Time is not to be overestimated. It is uncertain, and indeed may depend upon the individual initiate, how long one may spend on the other side of the great disc, walking the great gardens there, before corruption and damage ensue. The first one who made the transition was called back too late, and little but bones, malevolence and a great hunger for terror remain. A mere shell now of a former powerful magus.

*tape click*

Court records taken from Monograph On The Trial and Execution of the Redvale Witch by Thaddeus Fell, Dresser Limited 1901

“Judge Asquith - Thou seems a learned woman, a benevolent lady who hath healed many. What I cannot fathom is, why thou wouldst do these appalling things, wilfully take life whence thou has saved so many others? 

Agnes - To be remembered, milord

Judge Asquith - But surely thy long and  virtuous service to this community and the folk of this region wouldst ensure thou wouldst be not forgotten for many a long year!”

Agnes - Ah milord, good deeds never linger long. Doth thou remember the holy man of Thistle Forest? Nay, despite the stone in yon churchyard that bears his name. No small wonder is it that his bones are so agitated and hateful! 

Judge Asquith - But why this vexation, this obsession with the matter of memory and the worry of the remembrance of others after thous hast departed this mortal world?   

Agnes - Milord, while yet the memory of myself and my deeds walk in the thoughts and fancies of men, whilst tales are still told and ballads sang, so to shall I walk. And I shall be young and full of vigour as I walk again. Should my memory linger long and strong, the great keepers of the wheel may yet let me walk upon the earth again. For only when one is truly forgotten is thou truly dead to this mortal world.

Judge Asquith - Ah but while others may have remembrances, they shall be of no benefit to thou! 

Agnes - But where doest we truly live and thrive milord if not in a land of thoughts, our mortal clay might move and abound in this petty world of flesh, but our truest home is the secret countries of our minds

 Judge Asquith - I do believe this line of enquiry is becoming unduly philosophic! To more earthy matters please! Doest thou dispute what testimony good farmer O'Donnell has given? Doest thou dispute what he solemnly swears he did see?

Agnes - Nay milord, how canst I account for what he perceives. Why only Thursday last he did claim to see ye Boney Grinner stalking by Molesworth Copse, and he hath said he hast seen the faeries since in Thistle Forest. Farmer O'Donnell is inclined to see an awful much it would seem milord.

 

Judge Asquith - Silence in court! ‘Tis no place for jests and jolly japes! 

Agnes - I darst say he might be seeing something else, in the dim watches of the night, over his crib, afore this week is out… 

Judge Asquith - Hold thy tongue! We have no time for idle threats, and thou art in no position to issue them. For truly before tomorrow is done, thou shalt be dead and gone. From the evidence presented here today, I hath no other option! 

Agnes - You shall not see me dead this Hallowmas, but I shall be seen standing o'er thy cold tomb on many Hallowtides to come”

*tape click*

Martin just got in touch. He recalled an old record by an obscure Brichester band called Bone Machine. Apparently they only released one EP as both band members died when a fire broke out at one of their gigs in October 1974. He wondered if this song is a rare reference to our notorious resident. He sent over the lyrics - 

Concocting eldritch elixirs

Out of books from occult bazaars

He played with bright test tubes,

Boiling flasks, leyden jars,

But he was too dangerous,

So Dr Fell was marooned on Mars

Chorus - 

Dr Fells’ on Mars

Dr Fell’s on Mars

Brains in jars

Dr Fell’s on Mars

He still yearns for the old morgue

Despite being stuck in the stars

He misses stitching flesh,

Making things out of scars,

But he still dreams of the lab 

Does old Dr Fell marooned on Mars

Chorus - 

Out of the stars

Out of the stars

Dr Fell is coming 

Back from Mars

*tape click*

Passage from Chapter 9 “Of Remembrances and Returning”  from The Remembrances of Amon by Dr Thaddues Fell, Sublunary Press 1920 

Amon was rightly recognised as the prime deity in the Lower Kingdom of Egypt, being set over life and reproduction. He was, in his form as Amum-Ra, to uphold the plume of Maat, and hence was the keeper of divine Truth. Foolish magi of Classical antiquity thought his powers were limited, that he merely a lowly deity.  And later students of Goetia thought him a mere Marquis, a minor daemon commanding a mere forty legions of Hell. These are falsehoods, and a profound misunderstanding of Amon’s vast and mighty dominions. The writers of the old grimoires accredited him with merely knowledge of the past and the future, but he hath a greater dominion yet, over the great flat disc of time itself. For the Initiate who would conquer all bounds and all limits, Amon shall be his ultimate foe.

*knocking *

What's that?

*A louder knocking* 

Who is that? 

*sound of footsteps, a curtain being drawn*

Oh lord, no, no! Not you! 

*sound of a window breaking, the sound of wings perhaps*

*silence

*owl hoots*

*silence

*tape ends*

DIRECT DOWNLOAD - Door 29 - The Librarian's Tale - Epilogue

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