HYPNOGORIA 286 - The Chime of the Bluebells

In the UK at this time of the year the woodlands are awash with a carpet of bluebells. However as beloved as these wild flowers are, they have a lot of folklore surrounding them, and links to faeries, the dead, witches and the Devil himself! 

DIRECT DOWNLOAD - HYPNOGORIA 286 - The Chime of the Bluebells

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COMMENTARY CLUB Halloween Special - Hocus Pocus (1993)

For our traditional Hallowe'en special, we watch a modern Hallowe'en favourite - Hocus Pocus (1993) starring Bette Midler, Sarah Jessica Parker and Kathy Najimy as three Salem witches from 1693 resurrected to wreak havoc in the modern age!

DIRECT DOWNLOAD - COMMENTARY CLUB Halloween Special - Hocus Pocus (1993)

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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

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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

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 24 - The Old Grandmother's Warning

Door 24 - The Old Grandmother's Warning

Take care my child when walking home alone, 

When the sun is catched in gnarled boughs of trees, 

And red beams bleed through scratchy twigs and leaves 

Take care my child and always come straight home, 

Never stray or stop to play in the park, 

For there are hungry shadows in the dark 

Take care my child and hurry quickly home, 

When copses chew on the last bites of light, 

Crooked shadows will reach out to bar your flight 

Take care my child and run, run swift for home, 

For that shadowy shape flitting in the woods 

Is a raggedy horror in a blood-stained hood... 

Extract from Songs of the Red Vale: A Treasury ed. Robert Bowen (Haining Press 1863)

DIRECT DOWNLOAD - Door 24 - The Old Grandmother's Warning

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Hypnogoria Halloween Advent Calendar - Door 15 - Down in the Woods

Down in the woods where the witch ran free, 

In the middle of a glade stands a biting tree. 

Evil twists its very form, 

Lost souls scream in a haunted swarm, 

For the tree likes blood in a thunderstorm. 

No! No! The frightening tree, 

I don't like it 

And it doesn't like me! 

Go! Go! From the biting tree, 

The dead don't rest easily. 

Down in the woods where the witch sleeps tight, 

The old tree bites the middle of the night. 

Flesh ripped raw in the thunder's roar 

A biting tree has a hungry maw. 

Go! Go! From the frightening tree, 

I don't like it 

And it doesn't like me! 

No! No! This blighting tree, 

The dead won't die easily. 

Lyrics from the single Down in the Woods by Hollyfoot, released on 12th October 1968 on Fring Records, from the album Songs of the Chapel Hill Tomb-Folk released 31st October 1968 

DIRECT DOWNLOAD - Door 15 - Down in the Woods

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Hypnogoria Halloween Advent Calendar - Door 08 - The Witch of Redvale

Door 08 - The Witch of Redvale

Extract from Rhymes From Ashlington: Redvale Verses and Stories ed. Robert Raine (Aisling Press 1973)

Halloween is a good time for witches, and next we have a story and a poem about a wicked witch who lived in the Redvale.

Once upon a time, in the olden days, when we were all shorter and lived nearer the water, there was a witch in the village of Haggleton. She was called Marianne Hemdyke and she lived all alone in a tumble-down cottage near Thistledown Forest.

She grew herbs and made potions and lotions that could cure sick people or poorly animals. But on stormy nights she could be seen up at the standing stones on Ringstone Hill, calling strange names. And other folks claimed she was often in the graveyard by the old chapel late at night, apparently talking to someone. Or something. One farmer said he had seen her in the forest talking to a monstrous toad with horns and a burning black crown.

When people began to go missing in the village, folks said enough was enough, and called on the local judge to arrest her. Stout men stormed into her cottage and found bones and skulls, and other horrid things.

She was clapped in irons, and the judge said she was to hang. They took her to Thistledown Forest and found a strong old oak to carry out the execution. And so she was hanged.

But something came out of the dark woods, a huge tall slimy thing, with a great many arms and hooves. And it plucked the screaming witch from the rope, and carried her off into the gloom of the forest. She was never seen again, and folks say that the Devil himself had come and carried her off to Hell!

What a spooky story! And the wicked witch is remembered all over the Redvale with the following poem too.

Do not tarry in the wild woodlands, 

For there are witches in the trees, 

The crooked branches are thier hands, 

And they whisper amid the leaves. 

Do not tarry in the woodlands wild, 

For witches in the shadows deep, 

Are waiting for an unwary child 

To tangle in their dreaming sleep. 

DIRECT DOWNLOAD - Door 08 - The Witch of Redvale

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Hypnogoria Halloween Advent Calendar - Door 04 - Dances After Dark

Door 04 - Dances After Dark

The wonders of Thistle Wood are for all to share 

But there are clear signs that not just mortals walk there 

Lights have been seen dancing among the darkened trees, 

And voices can be heard calling on the cold night breeze

There's a ring of worn grass where flitting faeries prance, 

And after mushrooms spring up to follow their merry dance 

But where the bony grinner stalks unwary fools 

Up slither dead men’s fingers and pallid skullstools 

Traditional skipping rhyme from Redvale Ballads And Folk Verses by E. L. Livermere, published in 1930, in Volume 41 Issue 4 of Folklore, The Journal of The Folklore Society 

DIRECT DOWNLOAD - Door 04 - Dances After Dark

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COMMENTARY CLUB 055 - Suspiria

In this podcast, we have one of the greatest cult movies of all time - Dario Argento's 1977 masterpiece Suspiria! A dark fairy tale of murder and witchery from the legendary Italian director and all set to an iconic soundtrack by Goblin! 

DIRECT DOWNLOAD - COMMENTARY CLUB 55 - Suspiria

 

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MICROGORIA 70 - Pyewacket

In this episode we are preparing for the season of the witch with a little independent horror Pyewacket. In this show we uncover the sinister witchlore behind its name and review this intriguing addition to the modern folk horror canon. 

DIRECT DOWNLOAD - MICROGORIA 70 - Pyewacket

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FOLKLORE ON FRIDAY - Stone King Wake

In the last few little articles, we have been examining the strange lore of stones that move. We have had tales of revolving rocks and stories of meandering megaliths which go off for a wander at night. However compared to some legends, these stones that won't stand still seem positively sedate. For apparently a huge number of standing stones in the British Isles are somewhat on the energetic side on the quiet!

However this isn't perhaps that surprising given the number of ancient stones which were , according to legend at least, once living beings. A common trope in stone lore is that certain solitary megaliths or stone circles were once folks who were literally petrified. And perhaps the most famous example is the legend concerning the Rollright Stones. This celebrated array of ancient stones stands near the village of Long Compton, on the borders of Warwickshire and Oxfordshire, and comprises a single megalith dubbed The King Stone, a circle  known as the King's Men, and a dolmen called the Whispering Knights.

And of course there is an old tale to explain these names. Once upon a time,  a king had gathered together a powerful band of warriors in order to conquer all of England. However as he assembled  his troops, a witch appeared who cryptically pronounced - 

Seven long strides shalt thou take
And if Long Compton thou canst see,
King of England thou shalt be.

However our ambitious king wasn't going to let the words of some mad old crone deter him, and he replied in kind -

Stick, stock, stone
As King of England I shall be known.

However when he took the seventh stride towards Long Compton, the witch spoke up again, intoning these fateful words -

As Long Compton thou canst not see
King of England thou shalt not be.
Rise up stick and stand still stone
For King of England thou shalt be none;
Thou and thy men hoar stones shall be
And I myself an eldern tree.

And so it was, and hence the Rollright Stones came into existence. And it is said that one day, the witch's spell will be broken and the ancient king will once again march to take the throne of England. Or at least, so the old story goes. Needless to say, archaeologists beg to differ, and offer a very different version of events. However according to local folklore, it would appear that the witch's spell is perhaps not as strong as it might be, for it is claimed that at midnight, the King's Men are restored to human form, and dance around in a circle. But apparently to see this sight will bring the observer either madness or death.

Now this legend first appeared in print in Camden in 1586, and several more versions soon appeared. As was often the case with 16th century publications such as ballad sheets and chapbooks, if one proved popular, further versions, often by pirate publishers cashing in, soon appeared, and frequently making the tale more elaborate with each retelling. Hence in later versions it is claimed that the witch was in fact the famous Yorkshire prophetess Mother Shipton.

However often these publications were printing up stories and songs that were already well-known. To draw a modern analogy, the then new medium of print was not unlike modern cinema, with publishers looking to adapt properties that were already popular, and hence well-loved tales and songs became books in the same way that modern Hollywood turns popular novels, comics and TV shows into (hopefully) blockbusting movies. Hence as it is very possible that this old legend was already well-known to the general public, we cannot say for certain how old the legend of the Rollright Stones actually is.

And British folklore has many more ancient stones that are said to dance too, although often their legends are less elaborate.  For example, the Nine Ladies of Stanton, near Bakewell are said to be the petrified forms of nine witches who were dancing on the Sabbath. And on nights of the full moon, they turn to human form once more and dance again, with a mysterious man in black, possibly the Devil himself, looking on. Like the Rollright Stones, there is a solitary megalith standing outside the circle, also called the King Stone, who legend claims was the fiddler for their revels.

In stories where folklore holds that standing stones were once living beings, it is perhaps not surprising that additional tales contend that at certain times, full moons, midnight or certain notable calendar days, the stones revert to their original forms and move about.  And naturally in many cases these tales obviously have an origin in the fact that it is not a huge leap of the imagination to see a ring of menhirs as crude statues of a circle of dancing folk, or an imposing menhir as a troll or witch turned to stone.

However while the human imagination's inclination to anthropomorphise any suggestive shapes may well account from many legends of ancient stones being petrified beings, other legends are less easy to rationalise. For example, there is another tale of the Rollright Stones, and this one claims that in the dead of night, the King's Men slip off down the hill to drink from a spring in a spinney near Long Compton, with the King Stone alway waiting until it hears the chimes of midnight before lumbering off to whet its whistle.

Now it would be easy to assume that this bonus legend is just a piece of whimsy that has attached itself to the existing lore. But in fact the Rollright Stones are not alone in exhibiting this most unusual behaviour, and next time we shall round up a legion of other stones that appear to have something of a thirst! 

The 'Orrible 'Ouse of Terrible Old Tat #07 - Getting to the Charmed Circle

Welcome back to the 'Orrible 'Ouse of Terrible Old Tat! Now then, where were we? Oh yes! I remember! I was going to  tell you why Which Witch AKA Haunted House AKA Ghost Castle (to name but a few) was such a brilliant game! Now where is the damn board? 

Now the first ace thing about this game was the fact it featured a three dimensional board. Now this was completely brilliant for several reasons. Firstly, it did what it said on the tin as they say in the adverts.  For there has always been games that sounded incredibly cool, often coming in fancy boxes with amazingly exciting cover art with explosions, and dinosaurs/robots/ pirates galore. However when you got them out the box, you discovered this was yet another exercise in rolling dice and moving dull counters around an arbitrary track - an activity that fell WAAAAAAY short of the exploding dino-pirate-bots fun promised on the box. However this long-lived board was different - you actually got to build a haunted house/ghost castle! And thanks to clever designs and great art on the board, it looked even better in real life than it did on the box! Result!

Better still though, it didn't take thirty years to set up. All the pieces slotted together quickly and easily, and in no time at all you were all set to race your chums round the spooky edifice. Yes, there was none of that taking about half an hour to set the game up for roughly two minutes of gaming fun... Yes, KerPlunk, I AM looking at you! Now, this was a game with exciting moving bits that did all kinds of thrilling things during game play, and unlike similar board games, in this one they all bloody well worked properly too! Yes, you may well hang your head in shame Mouse Trap!

the original Which Witch/Haunted House

So what about the actual game itself? Well at first glance, the game mechanics appear to be very simple - players race each other round the board to get to the end first. Indeed if we are looking for an ancestor for this game, its grandfather is surely that enduring classic Snakes and Ladders. For like that well-loved game of climbing and sliding, Which Witch/Haunted House/Ghost Castle made the race fun by including horrible hindrances and fiendish obstacles. And here is where the magic comes in...

Now the board is divided into four spaces, indeed in the older versions of the game, four rooms in the spooky old house. These were in the vintage incarnation labeled as the Broom Room, the Witchin' Kitchen, the Spell Cell and the Bat's Ballroom. From the 1975  onwards with the revamp New Haunted House, the game would ditch the first room and replace it with an outdoor scene where you had to make your way up to the ghostly castle/haunted house. And while the decors and some of the traps in the rooms would change over the years, in all versions in the final room is a staircase... a staircase to victory! Well, the Charmed Circle to end the witches' spells in the early versions, and the Coffin to close to end the hauntings in later ones at any rate. 

New look! New Haunted House (1975)! 

Of course to get to the end before your competitors was never simply a matter of rolling more on your turn. For as well as moving, you had to draw a card (in the earlier versions) or spin the Spider spinner (Ghost Castle onwards). Now the original deck of cards gave you three possibilities. The card Wanda the Witch Casts a Spell meant your player was transformed into a mouse and could not move, While drawing Glenda the Good Breaks the Spell meant that you were de-mouseyfied and could move again. Later versions, which ditched witches, had a tweak to this - instead of becoming mice, players were scared stiff - signified by a spooky frighted face that slotted over your player piece. 

But most ominously of all was Ghoulish Gertie Drops It Down the Chimney (a phrase that never failed to raise hilarity in our house). This meant you got to the Whammy Ball (in reality a large steel ball bearing) - or a later versions a glowing plastic skull - down the chimney. This ominous object would then rattle down through the core of the spooky edifice and drop out into one of the rooms to trigger a trap or simple to send your piece flying! If you were hit, you had to go back to the start of that particular room. Now as I said, the beauty of this game was that all the cunning traps actually worked rather well, and what's more you could never predict where the deadly missile was going actually to pop out. Hence there was always a chance you might scupper your own progress if your piece was on one of the danger spots in the track through the house.

The classic edition of Ghost Castle! 

Of course all of these elements added up to an extra bonus feature by accident. And that was if you didn't want to play the game, the game board doubled up as a rather fun haunted house playset for any action figures or toy soldiers you fancied pitting against ghosts or witches! Certainly several battalions of Airfix's finest fightin' folk met horrible deaths investigating a certain haunted house in my bedroom...

So then if you are a games designer looking to create something that will still be on the shelves in five decades time, bear in mind the following features. Make your game fun and quick to set up - this guarantees it will be played with frequently. Secondly make the rules simple and quick to learn - there's nothing worse that a cool looking game that requires a Masters degree in Law to interpret the rules. And finally, make it dynamic and as exciting as it sounds! In addition to these first two factors, which are very important in themselves, the crucial thing that this classic board demonstrates, and probably the main reason for its continuing longevity, is that it delivers what the box promises! Something we shall find severely lacking in some of the other toys and games lurking in the 'Orrible 'Ouse of Terrible Old Tat...

The current version from Goliath Games