The Ancient Oak of Wistman’s Wood

The Song of Wistman’s (AI prompt on AIVA)

“From ancient oak and granite be, the truth is held from tree to tree”

We are of old. We are long passed. Our heart lies deep within the very rock of earth.

We are far older than those that walk this earth. Our seed more ancient than time itself and long journeyed beyond its bounds.

We have lived before and do not die; for time does not pass us by.

Our lives have been many and through them much sorrow of lands we have mourned and much sorrow for those we have borne.

We are of the earth and of the air and far beyond this realm.

We are many yet we are one.

All knowledge lies within, where truth seeks sanctuary from the grey mists that shroud those that do not know.

Though man and beast may come with hurt within their hearts, we will not forsake that which we are bidden to protect. We will not forsake that which is bidden to protect us.

Come magic of man and might of mist we will not bend.

Come wind of ice and hail of Crockern, though he be of us,

Or the mighty fire of Seth.

None shall breach the purest heart where Knowledge safely rests…

This story started for me some 14 years ago in a place known as Wistman’s wood, on the Devonshire moors in the south west of England, but the story itself is much older. In fact one might say it is older than time itself and arguably, older still than our universe. It is a tale to which all people who read this book will become part. From what started as a leisurely ramble that spring morning turned into a journey that was first beyond my understanding. It was a journey that was to take me to the edge of madness and self-doubt. A journey that only a few others can have taken and some have dreamt about, but one on which I shall be ever thankful to have embarked upon.

Omhna – molaim thú

Chapter One

Morning

It was a beautiful spring morning. A morning where time seemed to slow, an unhurried feeling seemed to pervade the house. The sun found its way through the gently swaying net curtains its light dancing on the tiled floor of the kitchen. It seemed to be tempting me to leave the house to join it in what seemed to be a perfect spring day. I thought for a while on how to spend that day and whether I should go into Plymton to run some errands. I swung open the French doors and stepped out to take in the fresh breeze coming from the direction of the moors. In the distance I could see the low rolling hills of the moor, dotted with farm buildings and woodland. A sky lark hovered high over the meadow to the right of my property, her melody praising the day. As I looked up at the lark I decided to day was a day to explore the moor. I would go to Westman’s wood.

I pulled out my old canvas bag from a cupboard under the stairs, tipped it out onto the kitchen table and removed all the old items from previous walks, some dried leaves, a small white stone, some sand and a rusted nail. The stone had an interesting luster so I dropped it back into the bag. I quickly put together some fresh bread I had bought the day before, a large piece of hard cheddar and a large Cox’s apple. I filled a small bottle with water and packed them into my canvas bag. As I left the house the Skylark was still singing (such a sweet and melodic song). I wondered if she appreciated just how tuneful it was. I walked over to my old Triumph Herald threw my pack in the back seat and jumped in. I had a feeling of excitement as I drove off. No one to tell, no one to answer to, just myself. Today was going to be an adventure.

The road to the moors was winding and narrow, with high hedges on either side. It would continue for about two miles before opening out onto the moors proper. When I reached the open moor I glanced in the rear view mirror and could see the whole of Plymouth Sound behind in the distance. This particular morning it seemed even brighter, almost white as the sun shone down upon the water. There must have been a slight sea mist, which caused it to look so bright from my vantage point. I stopped the car for a moment to take in the splendor. I could see Drakes Island in the distance and the outline of the Cornish hills way beyond. There seemed to be few boats out that day and I only saw one sail and maybe the outline of a freighter in the distance. I couldn’t get over the serenity of the day and inhaled deeply wanting to draw the whole scene into my lungs, to capture the moment within myself.

I drove on higher onto the open moor towards my destination. A few Dartmoor ponies were running freely whilst several sheep grazed unconcerned by the road. A little further down two crows were pecking at what looked like a dead rabbit in the middle of the road. They hardly seemed to notice as I passed by and were too intent on their carrion breakfast. There were no other cars on the road and not a sole to be seen. I felt truly alone and exhilarated. A short while later I turned off onto an even narrower road, which I knew would be a short cut, taking me down towards Wistman’s wood. I planned to find a parking spot just off the road near an old stile which would lead my through a field to a small copse and then to a winding path that would take me into Wistman’s wood.

As I drove down the narrow road the hedges grew higher on either side. They were supported behind an old stone wall that was built using little but knowledge of how the stone would hold together. The field was a least 6 to 8 foot above the road. These were the fields owned by the farmers and who scratched out a living from the moor.

As I crossed a cattle grid the hedges gave way again to open moor land. The view was splendid, looking down towards the wood with open moor stretching into the distance. The different hues of heather and brush lending an orangey brown patchwork effect.

I intended to park the car in a small pull off close to a field that would take me through a small copse and into the wood. As I approached my usual parking spot I noticed it seemed to be somewhat over grown as if not used for some time. I put this down to the recent spell of bad weather which would keep all but the hardiest off the moor. I pulled over, switched off the engine and locked the car. I had my pack on my shoulder and was ready for my trek. As I took the keys out of the lock I looked up at two crows dive bombing a buzzard they seemed to be laughing in their calls as if enjoying taunting a the noble hunter.

Crossing over a low fence I made my way down towards the cops. The path too seemed more overgrown than usual. The grass and weeds taking hold as soon as they found a respite from any unwelcome traffic. I could see the stile about 500 yards ahead of me and was soon stepping across it. I wondered for a second who may have built it. As I crossed into the copse it was also more overgrown, with thin hazel branches barring the way and nettles underfoot. I easily brushed these aside and felt comforted that Wistman’s wood was still little visited and had not become a major moorland walk for holiday makers. There was no sound in the copse not even a bird or rustle of the breeze. I could hear the sheep in the distance on the open moor beyond the copse and made my way easily along the old path that I knew so well. There was a small stretch of open moor at the end of the copse scattered with scree and small outcrops of granite rock. A couple of sheep were lazily pulling at the short coarse grass and as I approached they gave me a quick glance and ran off down the slope. I could now see Wistman’s wood a short way down, towards the bottom of the slope. A small stream ran along the valley which I believe is a leat of the west Dart River. The West Dart eventually meets up with the East Dart and continues down on to the town of Dartmouth.

The stream was bright and appealing in the late morning sun and I looked forward to taking a drink from its cool waters. Coming to the edge of the wood I paused a moment enjoying the warm sunshine and solitude. I could almost feel the cooler air of the wood which seemed to beckon me on…

Wistman’s Wood poem by Artificial Intelligence

(Verse 1) In the heart of ancient lands, where secrets lie, There’s a Druid dwarf oak wood ‘neath the boundless sky. Wistman’s Wood they call it, where time has stood still, A place of enchantment, where the wise find their fill.

(Chorus) Wistman’s Wood, oh Wistman’s Wood, so old and so grand, Where the oak trees stand firm, on the granite they land. Mossy blankets they wear, in the moonlight they gleam, In the heart of the forest, where dreams become dreams.

(Verse 2) Mighty oaks like sentinels, guardians of lore, Their roots dig through granite, reaching for more. In this woodland of mystery’s, where the wise ones have stood, They whisper their secrets in the heart of the wood.

(Chorus) Wistmans Wood, oh Wistman’s Wood, so old and so grand, Where the oak trees stand firm, on the granite they land. Mossy blankets they wear, in the moonlight they gleam, In the heart of the forest, where dreams become dreams.

(Verse 3) Mossy green robes, they clothe the stones cold, In the hush of the night, their stories unfold. Druid chants echo, as the moon takes its flight, In Wistman’s Wood’s magic, under the starry night.

(Chorus) Wistman’s Wood, oh Wistmans Wood, so old and so grand, Where the oak trees stand firm, on the granite they land. Mossy blankets they wear, in the moonlight they gleam, In the heart of the forest, where dreams become dreams.

(Bridge) Wistmans Wood, Wistman’s Wood, where wisdom’s your guide, Through ages untold, in your arms we confide. In the heart of the green, and the stones’ ancient form, You’re a sanctuary of knowledge, in the forest’s warm.

(Chorus) Wistmans Wood, oh Wistman’s Wood, so old and so grand, Where the oak trees stand firm, on the granite they land. Mossy blankets they wear, in the moonlight they gleam, In the heart of the forest, where dreams become dreams.

(Outro) In Wistman’s Wood’s embrace, where the wise find their home, Amidst oak and moss, through the granite they roam. In this mystical haven, where time takes a stand, Wistman’s Wood, oh Wistman’s Wood, an enchanting land.

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Entering the woods was almost like saying hello to an old friend. Nothing had changed, as if frozen in time from my last visit. The woods were truly ancient. A medieval dwarf oak forest that owed its continued existence to the protection of the unmoving granite rocks that allowed young seedlings to take hold without fear of being uprooted by grazing sheep and other wildlife. The trees were magnificent in their smallness and shape. Each one was an individual. Some resembled strange figures, outstretching their fingers as if to catch some unknown intruder. Some took on the majesty of age, with long greenish-gray beards formed by the mosses that grew in a tangle on their branches. The roots, too, were thick and gnarled, pushing down in between the rocks, almost as if holding the rocks in place. This truly was a timeless place.

As I made my way across the rocks, I stumbled, lost my footing, and slid towards the crevice between two rocks. My foot became lodged, and the thought crossed my mind that this was how each tree became a member of the wood. They were all hapless humans who had stumbled on the rock and been changed into the woody sentinels that now formed Wistman’s Wood. I pulled my foot free, dismissing the thought. And as I did so, I lurched around, losing my pack, which slipped from my shoulder. The pack opened, letting the apple fall to the ground. There was no way I could stop it from falling into the crevice, and alas, the sweet part of my lunch was gone.

I decided to explore the woods a little before starting on my diminished luncheon. Treading more carefully now, I hopped over several large boulders and admired each tree that clutched the ancient rounded granite. I wondered if any power could move them and if there was any other place as timeless as this. Each tree seemed so individual, with no two having a similar shape. Their bark was silver-gray and thicker than any I had seen. One would almost think they had no life until looking up into the spreading green foliage budding with new acorns. These acorns would surely be a feast for any moorland animal that might venture into the woods. I plucked a couple of acorns from the nearest tree and tucked them safely into my bag. This would be another souvenir of my ventures, I thought. I wondered momentarily whether these ancient oaks may grow outside of the woods and had a vision of a magnificent oak taking pride of place in my backyard.

The sun was now right overhead and glistened on the water below. I listened to the stream for a while and was calmed by its melodic passage across the small rocks. The water looked perfectly clear, so I decided to drink from its cool waters. Making my way down, I crossed a large flat rock covered in soft moss. This is where I would sit for lunch, I thought. The water was truly refreshing. It was so good that I decided to empty my water bottle of the chlorinated town water and replace it with the cool natural stream water to enjoy during the day. I made my way back to the flat rock, which made a perfect place to sit or lie back. Unwrapping my cheese and bread, I began my lunch and took in the sounds of the day. The cheese and bread tasted even more delicious than I had anticipated, almost as if my sense of taste had been heightened. I took a drink from my water bottle and decided to lie back for a few minutes and relax.

As the sound of the stream, the distant call of crows, and the occasional sound of a far-off sheep seemed at times to be almost in harmony, they lulled me into a drowsy and contented feeling. Today was surely perfect!

I don’t know how long I dozed, but it could only have been a short while. I was awakened by the sound of laughter – a pleasant female laugh that seemed playful yet taunting. The sound seemed to be coming from my left, towards the edge of the woods, closer to the stream and nearer to the tor that stood watch over the woods. I looked in the direction where I thought the sound had come from. I thought maybe it was a couple that had also come to enjoy the solitude of the woods. Maybe I should just stay where I was and not appear nosy? My curiosity had been aroused, though, as the sound of the laughter seemed almost beckoning, as if challenging me to follow. “I could always make the excuse that I was walking up the tor,” I thought to myself. I clambered down the rocks to the small path by the edge of the stream and made my way in the direction of the tor. Again, I heard the same taunting laughter – so melodious yet so distant. I felt I must at least see who such a beautiful voice might belong to. As I quickened my pace, I caught a glimpse of a woman’s shape through the trees. I could only see her from behind, but her hair was long and golden, with a thick curl running down to the middle of her back. “She was moving fast,” I thought. “I must catch up.” I began to move faster and worried that she may think I was following her. I wondered if she might be with someone who would challenge my actions. I almost wanted to call out to her, to stop her, so that I could at least see her face.

She seemed to be moving faster up the hill now, toward the tor. I could just make out some form of long dress, a brown and red weave. “Almost the color of the moor,” I thought. I could not see anyone else and decided to break into a run. I felt she was aware of my presence and wanted me to chase her. As I thought I was gaining on her, she was lost from sight behind some low scrub near the bottom of the tor. My heart sank at the thought of not finding out who she was. I pushed myself as hard as I could and bounded over the small rocks that littered the hillside. I was now very close to the tor and believed I would surely come face to face with her in a few moments. I passed the area where I last glimpsed her shape but she was nowhere to be seen. “Perhaps she had gone to the other side of the tor.” I clambered up the gray granite face of the tor, believing that I would have a panoramic view of the surrounding area. “Surely she could not hide up here in the open.”

As I reached the top of the tor, I was dizzy with exertion, my lungs desperately trying to draw in enough air, hurting with the unusual effort. I turned around and around, scanning the vicinity. She was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she had found some hidden bolt hole or was hiding in the coarse undergrowth at the bottom of the tor. I half-jumped, half-stumbled from outcrop to outcrop, bounding down the tor like some crazed acrobat.

Once on the ground I ran around the base of the tor and searched every small opening that could possibly make a hiding place. She was nowhere to be seen. I was angry and confused at how I could have missed her and puzzled at how quickly she could allude me.

“Perhaps she gone back to the wood, that’s it she must have doubled back”. I turned to make my way back down to the wood and noticed a light object shining in a small patch of undergrowth. I quickly pulled the shrubs away and saw a perfectly rounded polished white stone. I picked it up and rolled it around between my fingers. It had small indentations as if for a clasp or some similar broach like object had once housed it. I quickly placed it in my pack and ran toward the wood with as much speed as my shaking legs would allow. I felt certain that I would not see her again as she must have made good ground by now. Running into the wood I almost crashed into one of the oaks, my hands smacked into the hard bark bringing me to a sudden halt. Apart from my own labored breathing all seemed silent in the wood. There was no sign or sound of the women I was sure I had seen and no evidence to suggest she had entered the wood. Catching my breath I began to regain my composure and clearer thinking. I questioned what had taken place and wondered whether I had imagined the whole thing. She had been so real though, her hair, her dress, the taunting laugh. Surely even waking from a dream I could not have imagined her so clearly?

The wood seemed colder now, a slight breeze was rustling through the trees, it felt like I had disturbed the wood in some way and was an unwelcome visitor. Gathering myself together I made my way along the narrow path by the stream back toward the open ground at the far end of the wood. My heart was still beating hard in my chest and my mind was racing with the thought of the mysterious women. It felt almost as if she were running through my blood, like a poison accidentally ingested, or a bite from some venomous creature.

At last I made it to the edge of the wood. All the time I had the feeling that I was being watched as if all the eyes of the wood were upon me and were pushing me from their site. Once out of the wood I felt a tremendous sense of relief. I sighed deeply and stopped momentarily to look back. Perhaps I would catch sight of her in the distance but no I saw not a sole only two crows chasing a buzzard high in the sky.

Chapter 2.

Thirst

As I returned to my car, I became extremely thirsty and told myself that I needed a stiff drink to jolt me from the malaise I now felt. My stomach felt heavy, and I had a feeling of nausea. Perhaps the local pub would bring me some solace?

Driving down toward the small mining village of Merryville, I could see the deserted mine workings looming grey in the distance, an ominous sign of the abandoned quarrying industry once prevalent in those parts. The Dartmoor Inn seemed more inviting, standing alone with only a few old mining cottages and farm buildings for company. A small wisp of smoke gently rising from the old stone chimney reassured me of a warm welcome. It was now late afternoon, and the sun had lost most of its warmth. An open fire and a pint of local cider would surely be most welcome.

An elderly lady drying glasses behind the bar greeted me as I walked in. “Good afternoon, sir, and what can I get you this fine day?” Her smile was friendly, and her full figure made her look warm and motherly. I was immediately at ease and walked over closer to the bar. “I’ll take a pint of your best cider, please.” I replied, smiling as best I could. I pulled up an old barstool and sat closer to the bar. The bar was made of some old dark wood that looked as if it had been there for many years. It had many marks and pits from continued use but was still highly polished. While the landlady was pulling my pint, I took a moment to look around. The pub was small and very old. There was a huge stone fireplace in one corner where a large log was gently burning. The whole room was decorated with horse brass, farming implements, and old leather plowing harnesses. By a small table in a nook towards the back of the room sat an old local, smoking a wood pipe.

His face was round and ruddy as were many of the folks on the moors. He was wearing an old tweed jacket and flat cap and was surrounded by a blue haze of pipe smoke. Apart from him and me, it seemed we were the only customers in the bar. The landlady had finished pouring my cider and set it down on a beer mat on the bar. The golden liquid reflected the sunlight through the glass, and I savored the scene before lifting the glass to my lips. The first sip was a delight, the tangy apple flavor awoke my thirst, and I drank heartily, almost half the glass. The landlady watched me with a half-smile. “You were thirsty,” she said. “I expect you’ve been out walking on the moor. You look like you might have caught too much sun,” she added with an even larger smile. “Yes, I was walking around Wistman’s and Crokern Tor. It is truly beautiful out there,” I replied as I lifted my glass to drink the last of my cider. “Here, have another,” she said as she began pulling another pint. “It looks like you need it.” I looked into her eyes and wondered if somehow she knew what I had been through. “Yes,” I said quietly, “I think I do.”

“We don’t get many non-locals out here these days,” she continued. “This used to be such a busy place, especially when the quarry was working. We’d be rushed off our feet, cooking and serving, which was a fair old trade, I’ll tell you, they were busy times. But still, we get a few locals like old Harry there, and the evenings are quite lively.”

“Well, it’s truly a very cozy pub,” I said, trying to make conversation. “How long have you been here?” I enquired. “Me, I was born in the old farm down the road, I’ve lived here all my life. I’ve never been further than Plymouth, and that was only for a day. Didn’t care for it much, too busy for the likes of me. This pub’s been in my family for many a year, longer than I can remember, and I started working when I was 11 years old.” She had a slight wistful look on her face as she seemed to be reminiscing on those past days. “I have been in a few times whenever I’m out here,” I replied. “I remember you used to make a great plowman’s lunch.” “Still do,” she said, brightening her smile again. “Fresh-baked bread and cheddar from the farm, I pickle the onions myself, you know.” I smiled and was truly warmed by her presence. I felt safe and secure. The warm feeling from the cider seemed to settle my spirits. At that moment, I felt at ease and told myself that perhaps the lady of the wood was just a dream after all. I looked over at the old man in the corner of the room and smiled. He did not return my smile and didn’t even seem to have acknowledged my presence. He was still unmoved from his earlier position, and his half-pint of ale remained untouched.

“Tell me,” I said to the landlady, “You must know these moors pretty well, have you ever heard of a young lady who might wander around down near Wistmans Wood?” I tried to sound unconcerned as if I was just making a passing comment, but I noticed a slight tremor in my voice. “Young lady, I know a lot of young ladies but not many round here. There’s Claire down at Two Bridges, but I haven’t seen her this past year. No, can’t say I know any girl that would be wandering through Wistmans, why do you ask?” She had a slight quizzical look, and her smile had vanished. “Oh, I just thought I saw someone today out near the wood and wondered maybe if she was from around here?” “Hmm, perhaps old Charlie might know, hey Charlie?” she called across the room. “Do you know of any girls wandering around up at Wistmans?” I looked over to where the old man sat. He again did not seem to move and was still shrouded in the blue mist of smoke. He seemed to take a long inhale, and I barely heard a soft voice say, “Tis the lady of the wood, the lady of the wood, that would be. I know her, some say best left to be. Lady of the wood, yep I know her, best left to be, some say, best left to be.” Then, he puffed on his pipe and did not say another word. I looked back at the landlady, who was no longer smiling. “Where exactly did you say you saw this lady? Was she in the wood?”

“I thought so,” I said. “I just really saw the back of her. I didn’t see her face. Perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps I was mistaken. I had been sleeping. I might… “You might have dreamt it, you mean.” I was feeling a little confused suddenly, and my head was beginning to spin. “I… no, I saw her, she was there. She was laughing at me. I had to find her; she wanted me to find her.” I looked into the face of the landlady, whose features seemed to have changed. Her smile was no longer friendly and seemed almost mocking. “Who is she?” I said pleadingly, “What is her name?” I heard the landlady begin to laugh. “The good lady of the wood, yes we know her, don’t we, Charlie? Best left alone, as he says. Not always the Good Lady, I don’t doubt. Some say she drove away the quarrying. Some say she haunts the wood to keep out the likes of you foreigners. Some say she protects the wood from Old Crokern himself, the old man of the tor. Some say the great old spirit of the moors rides out on his skeleton horse with his Yeth hounds at his feet, seeking the souls of any who should wander astray and leads the souls into the very gate of hell which the lady of the wood stands keeper. No, it’s not a place where any sane man nor beast should wander, especially if you get caught up there at night. The fog will find you quick, you know. No, not even the good lady of the wood herself could save a poor soul if even she wished to do so. Some say she doesn’t exist at all, and it is just the trees and their magic. But we know her, ain’t that so, Charlie?” She began to laugh again, tinged this time with what I took to be a slight hysteria. I was confused; I did not expect such an outburst, such a change in her mood. I looked around, my head was spinning. Perhaps it was the cider or perhaps the events of the day, maybe even the water from the stream. I took hold of the bar in an attempt to steady myself and looked over at the landlady. She was smiling kindly, again drying glasses. “Hey, what’s wrong, my dear?” she said. “You look awful. Are you sure you’re okay?” I was just telling you about our friend Claire from down at Two Bridges. She sometimes walks out on the moor around old Crokern. Perhaps it was her that you saw?” I looked her in the eye, “But you, you were telling about the lady of the wood, the hounds, and old, old Seth.” “I think it’s gotta be the cider,” she said. “That and too much sun. You foreigners can’t take too much of the moors. You’d best go home and rest. That’s right, you’d best go home and rest.”

I scrambled through my pockets and put down a five-pound note. “Thank you,” I said, somewhat confused. “Thank you,” I said again, quietly. I got up from my stool and looked over at the old man. I am sure he had not moved, and his glass was still as full as when I first went in.

I hardly remembered my drive home as my head was swimming I was sure of what I had seen and heard. Why should those people play with me that way? Perhaps because I was not a local, a “foreigner”.

When I finally arrived home I stumbled through the door to my house, exhausted from the day. I made my way upstairs into my room and threw off my clothes. All I wanted to do was sleep, to stop the questions that were filling my mind. I slumped onto the bed and pulled the covers roughly over me shutting out the day. I fell almost immediately into a deep sleep. Sometime, probably around 2 am I awoke suddenly. The house was silent except for a slight breeze coming through the open window. The air was cold and a little damp. I quickly got out of bed a closed the widow and returned to what I thought would be an undisturbed sleep. It was then that the dream came.

Chapter 3.

The Dream

I was alone, somewhere in the middle of the moor. It was totally dark except for a slight glow in the distance which I took to be the lights of Plymouth. There was no moon, and I sensed the clouds gathering above me. The smell in the air told me that rain may be on the way. I was dressed in a heavy, dark cloak-like garment, held together around the neck by a metallic clasp of some sort hooked through a chain. It seemed to keep me warm from the cold wind which was steadily growing stronger. I felt I should make my way to Wistmans Wood but did not know why. I had no idea of the direction but sensed I was on higher ground, possibly in the little-visited Langley Moor area. I decided to make my way towards the slightly lit sky and move away from the looming Tors behind me. As I turned and hurried my step, my foot sank into a marshy bog. I stumbled and fell, pushing my hands out to break the fall. The marsh let out an odorous smell like that of rotting flesh or some other foul decaying material. I almost retched as it filled my lungs and thought for a moment that I might pass out. As my hands also entered the foul mixture, my right hand fell on something hard and woody. This stopped me from sinking any further.

I grabbed the object and used it to push myself up. I pulled my foot from the mire and quickly wiped the oozing liquid from my hands. I was still clutching what I now made out to be a thick branch of some hard wood. It seemed of the right size to assist me as a walking stick, and I used it to push away from the bog onto firmer ground. The wind had now picked up considerably and I could feel heavy drops of intermittent rain hitting my cloak. I knew any moment the moor was about to unleash a storm in all the fury she could muster. I had to make my way to Witsman’s Wood. I felt there I would surely find shelter and some protection from the coming storm. As I turned, the wind seemed to hit me with an icy chill, as if it was trying to push me back to prevent me from my chosen path. The rain became like icy razors hitting my face, trying to cut at my vision and confuse my way. Through the icy haze, I could see what I thought to be Crockern Tor. The tor was as black as the night and almost seemed to be changing shape before me. I shrugged this off as an illusion created by the rain and tried hard to continue on.

I looked back again at Crockern Tor, a flash of lightning cut horizontally across the sky, lighting it for a moment. In the darting light and shadow, the tor seemed again to take on a new shape. A grey ominous shape of “Old Crockern himself”. The rain again lashed me with what seemed even harder force, stopping me from moving on. I recalled the words of an old woman I had met earlier in Merryville. “Some say the gurt old spirit of the moors, Old Crockern himself rides out on his skeleton ‘orse with his Yeth hounds at his feet, seeking the souls of any that should wander astray. It’s not a place where any sane man nor beast should venture, where not even the good lady of the wood herself could save a poor soul.” I almost saw her wizened face mocking me with her words as I found myself to be one of the “not sane men”. I pushed down on the branch and turned away from the Tor. It was then that I heard an unearthly cry, a cry that stopped my heart and found its way to the very depth of my being. I could not help turning back to see from what tormented creature this sound could have come. There behind me, some 20 yards or so, I saw the huge figure of a gnarled grey man sitting on a dark outline of a skeleton horse. His deep eyes seemed to glow, and his face seemed to be carved out of the granite itself. I was almost in disbelief and could not move from the spot. As I stood there awed by what I saw, a number of small burning lights appeared at his feet. “The hounds of Yeth,” I thought. I forced myself to move and in blind panic began running forward. I was not in full control and my limbs seemed to fling me onward of their own free will. I stumbled several times on the wet underground and thought I could feel the hot odorous breath of the hounds upon my neck. Was I surely to die here? My soul ripped out by the oncoming hounds of the underworld. My mind raced, where to hide? Where to seek shelter? What direction? Go on, go on! At that point, I tripped in my panic and began sliding down a slight incline. I clutched the wooden branch tightly in my hand as if it was my very soul itself. As I slid, I fell into a small hollow covered with brambles. The hard barbs tore at my skin, and for a moment, I believed them to be the teeth of the hounds themselves, ripping at my throat, tearing away at my flesh. This was to be my death. My shallow grave upon the moor. I blindly swung out with the branch in an effort to ward off my unseen pursuers. The sound of their bloodthirsty howls and that of the wind overcame me, and I believed my death was imminent. I made a last feeble attempt to fight, striking at the air blindly. As I did so, the branch caught solid stone and I heard a slight echo. A cave, I thought, maybe I can hide, and maybe they won’t see me. I almost laughed hysterically at the thought of the hounds missing such an easy quarry. I pushed my hands through the brambles and into the hollow space beyond. I pulled my body forward and dropped down some six feet, spraining my right foot on the hard stone below. I muffled my cry of pain and felt my way around the cave. It was a small hollow, a roughly circular area only about 10 feet across. The cave seemed a little lighter or my eyes had become keener. I noticed a round, flat stone below my feet that seemed to be lighter in color than the surrounding walls. I crouched against the wall, taking momentary comfort in the solidity. It was then that the first of the hounds found me. As they came at me, eyes burning and breath of putrid flesh, they seemed to pass through me, each ripping away a part of my soul as they did so. As I lashed out blindly to no effect, they kept coming. I felt myself getting weaker and weaker, almost welcoming my certain death. I grasped the branch harder and pulled myself to my feet. In my madness, I was intent on standing before Old Crockern himself. I called out to the night, “Come, old man of Crockern, come take my life, take my soul and damn it to hell if you will.” At that moment, I slammed the branch hard to the ground, hitting the round stone in the center of the cave. There was a crack and flash of light. For a moment, I thought the whole world was shaking and that Old Crockern had borne down upon me. There was silence. I was alone. The cave seemed lighter now. I could make out details of the walls. I looked around and saw a glowing light streak covering about 6 feet and being some four inches at its widest. I knew where I was. I was in the tomb of Merrivale.

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(Footnote: Dartmouth is a beautiful old town where the Pilgrim Fathers set of for the new world. The Mayflower set off from here and stopped into Plymouth, where they put on supplies and picked up passengers bound for the Americas).

CHAPTER 4

CLAIR

Written on the plane on TRIO (needs editing and expansion)

Go down gravel drive, hear sounds from Stable/garage/describe scene/house etc. meeting/swearing from inside/woman’s voice/jokes/language/

EDIT: Eh excuse me! Hello, my name is Mike-Hope, I was told by the lady in the pub that you may be able to help me. “With what?” she glanced toward me her head halfcocked and a suspicious look in her eye. With someone I thought I saw in Wistman’s wood. “What makes you think I can help you… taking off her welding mask. “Who was it you were supposed to have seen?” Who is it you are asking about?” Well the lady said you know what goes on around two bridges. I glanced at her wrist and noticed an intricate silver emulate type bracelet. There was something about the stone that reminded me of the stone I had picked up near Crockern tor. That may or not be so but why do you need to know. Well it’s funny really maybe I was dreaming or something, it was it was like I saw someone or something but I wasn’t sure if she was there. “She you said, so did you see any part of her face or clothes?” So you do know her. “I’m not saying that I was merely asking you a question”. No, I didn’t see her face just heard a laugh and saw what I thought was part of her clothing and hair, she seemed to move so fast and I couldn’t catch up to her. “Why would you want to catch up to her?” I just felt I had to see her, I felt she was taunting me or playing with me. Clair almost smiled as if remembering a past encounter or similar occurrence. “Do you think she really exists”, asked Clair? I don’t know all I know is that since coming to the moor that day some very strange things have happened and I can’t get it off my mind I have to know if this is something I can find out or if I am losing my mind or going a little crazy. She smiled again in a half knowing half amused look. “You men”, she said, her smile broadening, are all little crazy. Why don’t you come in and have some tea”. I felt relaxed that she had finally seemed to warm to me and had dropped the suspicious guard that she had upon my arrival. The house was an old farmhouse cottage that still had a thatched roof slightly over run and cultured with small curious art work and half-finished iron. It had a real earthy, lived in feeling. I could not see any male influence here; this appeared to be the home of a very independent no nonsense woman. She obviously had a love for nature as there were several natural art works and of metal and wood.…and in particular I noticed a beautiful painting of what appeared to be Wistman’s wood. Clair was cluttering around in the kitchen putting a huge yellow kettle. I made this you know. Never fails me and always makes a good cup of tea&… So what’s you name again? Michael hey? So why do you think I can do to help you. Just tell me if I’m crazy or if you have any idea what it was that I experience that day. “Well yes, you sound crazy and you probably experienced magic mushrooms. Smile. Smile. She poured the water into a hand painted light blue tea pot with small yellow flower design. I suppose you painted the tea pot too. No se said but I did make it. Stays hot for aged you know. Come over and sit at the table you look so uncomfortable their like á little boy that hasn’t got an invite to a party. I smiled, how did she know? I began to warm to this person called Clair. I walked over to the table pulled out a big wood chair and sat down. It looked like the table had been there since the house was built and had seen some tines. Stained and marked with use. Nice solid table I said trying to be polite. Yes, thick isn’t it. She plonked down a big mug of tea in front of me. I hope you don’t take sugar cause I have non in this house only honey. I have bees in the back. No wonder she doesn’t have time for a man I thought. No, I am ok without I said taking a sip of the steaming tea. emm this is good, I said, what type of tea is it? No let me guess you dried the leaves yourself. Again the one sided smile. No actually it’s Sainsbury’s. Darjeeling with just a touch of my own herbal essence. I smiled well it sure is good. I saw her eyes twinkle and had the feeling that she was beginning to like me a little more. So how often do you go up to Wistman’s wood? She caught me glancing at the painting of what I took to be Wistman’s wood. I see you noticed the painting. Nice isn’t it sort of pulls you in doesn’t it”, she said teasingly. Do you see your girl in there? Not unless shed turned into one of the trees I said with a slight laugh. A sudden flash of seriousness flashed through her but was gone in an instant. Well that may be so who knows certainly not I. So why do you think she chose you to show herself to. What do you mean? Exactly that, why did she choose this ram shackled specimen of a man. She looked deadly serious and for a moment I felt a slight fear tighten in the back of my throat. I I don’t you are serious aren’t you. Serious yes and a little puzzled. You could even say concerned. My heart seemed to quicken. So you don’t think I’m crazy. I already answered that and it still remains to be seen, I will reserve judgment for now. So tell me I asked. Have you seen these women? I have seen what you might call an apparition but not necessarily a woman. I too was afraid at first and doubted what I saw. Oh this was some years back now and since then I have done a lot of research both out on the moors talking and reading. Do you know much of the legends of the moors Michael? She enquired. Only like everyone else. The hairy hands, Conan Doyle’s hound of the Baskervilles and stuff like that but nothing much else. I have come across the odd stone circle here and there but didn’t think much of it. Yes, when you covered as much of the moors as I have you get to find out a lot and some you can’t explain. Did you know that Conan Doyle’s book was based on the legend of the Seth hounds? No can’t say I did what’s the explanation. So what about the lady, the person you saw. Hmmm what you saw was real to you and you were meant to see it you might say it is in your mind and in that sense you are crazy. But it was real and what you explained happened in the pub. It seems for some reason that she it has chosen to reveal herself to you. I only know that sometime in the past this same force came to me and gave me more of a felling than anything else, it was more, dream like. Sort of as if I were dreaming of someone I had lost, like my father, so distant as if someday I would be with him and this dream or apparition was comforting me. Sometimes I go out to Wistman’s and have conversations with the trees, for comfort really, they don’t answer of course you know. Sometimes I feel the presence and on occasions I am sure I have heard a woman’s laugh as if listening to my conversations and laughing at some of the absurdities… You said you know it’s real and yet in my mind what does that mean. Well you know I did spend some time going back over some of the history, the old Parliament stone of Wistman’s, the stone circles and the like, this area has always had legends, sightings and mysterious happenings. It goes back long before the Druids before the ancient Celts even. We don’t know when man first set foot her but it seems that some power exists here within the stone within the very oak and sometimes beyond. It sometimes seems benign and at other times mercurial even dangerous. I can’t say I have ever seen the hounds though or old Seth but I do have one secret that I have never share with anyone and I really don’t know why I am going to tell you. Yes, the spirit does exist and no you are not made unless we all are. This really was such a long time ago, I don’t know where to begin and it is a little painful for me. It was just after my father died. It was so sudden no one expected it. He was a seemingly healthy man that always worked hard, strong, able to do anything, all a girl could want really. One day he went off with his friends on a motor cycle and side car to swim down at too bridges. Well they never made it. John, who was driving, swore it was sheep that ran out in front of him, others blamed the cider that he was known to consume. He blamed himself for years but I never did, bless him. Anyway the shock was devastating to my mother who never got over it. To cut a long story short I thought I would die from grief, from crying and anger that he had left me, sometimes I was so consumed I could not speak. It felt like my mind was being taken over by a sort of grey mist, I can’t exactly explain. One evening, in a mood, with the rain and mist on the moor, I went out walking the ridge, along the edge of Wistman’s wood, with the Tor silhouetted in the distance, like the grey old man it’s said to be. I decided to scream and shout my anger to God, to the moors, to anyone who would listen. I was crying and beside myself, I really felt that all I had loved had deserted me. I was completely caught up in myself, soaking with the rain. But in the corner of my mind’s eye I saw in the distance, such a beautiful sunset with fingers of mist coming from the valley reaching up toward the sun. The sky was truly beautiful with different colored clouds slowly breaking apart. As the weather cleared I felt calmer, peaceful even, I felt a change and was no longer hurting inside. I didn’t know how this could be and decided to return to my home. As I walked through the sodden undergrowth I saw a shimmering light flicker down in Wistman’s wood. It was then when I saw her face, smiling, such a peaceful understanding smile. She held out a small white stone the same stone that makes up the amulet you noticed earlier. The same as the one I know you found that day and still carry in your canvas bag, you see she came to both of us. To you I don’t know why. To me she heeled my heart and since that day has shown me much about life and the concerns we should have about this fragile world that we could so easily fuck up. I don’t understand all of it but it the only way I can say it is they are like the keepers of the planet and have been with us or our ancestors always. It seems that when the Druids were driven here as a last refuge from the Germanic tribes that something, some unwritten power or knowledge was kept here in Wistman’s, or somewhere near I am not sure. And I think this thing, even the legends the Hound ol Seth are here in some way to protect it, to ward off those that may interfere. (Enough for now I am landinggggg)

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Another chapter to lead into meeting with Enchantment. More on background/Clare/job etc.

CHAPTER 5

ENCHANTMENT

She stands laughing at the waters

Playing in their madness

Looking around her

And crying for my sadness

Words whispered of an ancient tongue

As she turned again and ran into the trees

Like the passing of a shadow

Or the touch of winters breeze

Her hair in streams of golden light

Her eyes so dark to shame the night

I ran again into that wood

Where night now reigned and evil stood

I found again that daughter of old

Her name so ancient her heart so cold

Her frame draped in a weave of brown and red

The wizards daughter turned again and fled

—Sitting in confusion

Sinking in disillusion

Floating through my mind

Words that she once said

Filling me with questions filling me with dread

An image of a forgotten dream

Of some dark and ancient night

She held the answer

If only I knew her plight

Bending on its travels

Rebounding out of sight

Forever changing

Rearranging

What spells are now in flight?

“I have had many names but you prefer to call me Enchantment. Even as I stand before you, you question my existence and believe me to be part of your imagination. That is not untrue for I also reside in the very depths of your sole and in the dimmest corners of your consciousness. I have come to you on many occasions, had you stopped the racing of you mind and allowed me in you would have known me before now. Even as we speak you are not prepared to give yourself to me and still hold doubt within your heart. Cast off that doubt and embrace me wholly within your being. For if you do not you shall surely be consumed by your own fear and slide further into the mist that has kept you hidden”.

“But why do you appear like a ghost in my thought? Why do you choose me to torment in such a way. What mischief do you have in mind for me?”

“Mischief? If only it were, the mischief it seems is in the hands of man. It is their mischief which keeps me here, to dwell amongst them on this earth and does not allow me to fly free. The mind of man is easily led and, without protest, allows the subtle forces of the grey mist to enter their minds, to twist and turn within until it reside, firmly, clouding their every thought with greed and avarice”.

“But why did you come to me? I have been in such anguish that I feared I was losing my mind. I cannot concentrate of my everyday life without being consumed with the thought of you. I believe even now that I am on the verge of madness talking to my own imagination”.

Madness may well have been your fate. It was difficult for even me to penetrate the vail of grayness that had found its way into your thought. As I said, I had been searching for you even when you were young and had come to you in your dreams and waking thought. Sometimes during your day dreams of past journeys I had almost slipped in to pull away the vale that covered you. The mist is strong and you fought, believing me to be just a dream, a whim of imagination. But now I almost have you, the vale is lifting and it will soon be time to embrace many things of which now you cannot hope to understand, of ancient knowledge thought lost to man, which only a few could truly know. Once you embrace me wholly, as I embrace this world, you will truly see. There will be no mist to cloud your vision, no doubt to turn your mind. You will be given truth to hold within your very being. You will become more than a keeper and will be given the key to unlock the knowledge. This is truly a great gift for a human such as you and cannot be given unless freely accepted without doubt or question, fear or desire. If you accept these things your mind will be truly free, free to see with a clarity that flies high beyond human thought. Still there will be those who doubt and question you. Many will try to turn those that love you away from you. To make you again doubt what you do. You must be resolute in your belief and not be swayed from the path that will lie before you. There is much and many depending on you and none more so than those who seem against you. Even those in whom you believe and put your trust must show their true selves openly to you to be truly trusted.

I will come to you again when you are in most need. I will come to you in such a way that you will no longer have doubt. The mists of time will no longer cloud your mind and you will be free to embrace the unwritten knowledge of those who came before you. In the shadow of the sacred oak you will be given sight and will be able to see that which has been closed to you for so long. You will truly understand all that is known and all that is your purpose.

I could not help gazing at the beauty of this “apparition” for I was still not sure that what I was seeing was reality. “You talk of the Oak, do you mean Wistmans wood”?

“There are many sacred places on this earth the most sacred is now all but gone and barely exits in what you would now call Samos. These sacred places are the sources of all knowledge stored where no mortal could unlock the hidden key.

She stood expressionless in her beauty, perfectly formed, her flaxen hair waving slightly in the breeze, her green eyes shining and defiant. I felt myself being drawn to her as if she were inhaling me with each breath each rise and fall of her ample breast. “But I am just an ordinary man, not normally prown to hallucinations, or at least not until now, and surely not the sort of guy that an elemental from some other world would seek out to torment for her amusement”.

“You know in your soul that I am real, although your mind does not yet accept, you are still clouded by the grey mist that denies me.

“Tell me what you want of me, why speak in riddles of knowledge and damn oaks and the like, let me go and be rid of this madness. “ I felt my anger and frustration rising, my vision seemed to be clouding as my heart began to race. My head felt hot, my throat suddenly dry. “Do not torment me any longer I am just an ordinary man, I can’t take this; tell me what you want of me?” The woman stood looking at me with sadness in her deep green eyes. “You must let go of your struggle with yourself, you cannot embrace me unless you are at peace with yourself. You have to accept me wholly and I cannot alter or influence the forces of truth. I have been patient and will be patient still. You have the stone which binds us now, keep it always close to your heart and I will bind with your soul when your mind is truly open:.

I was confused, sick, I rubbed my head and looked around for some reassuring landmark, something I knew to be real, I turned back and began walking toward the vision. As I did so she also turned, slowly, her long skirt swaying, her hair, longer than waist length brushed provocatively across her back. My god, I thought, why have I summoned such a beautiful tormentor? I noticed that she was wearing a gold colored clasp bracelet with some sort of ancient Celtic design upon it, for a moment it flashed through my mind that I had seen it before. I wanted to grab for her wrist to pull her round, to find out who was playing such a cruel joke upon me. To expose her as false or at least prove to myself that she was flesh and blood. I stumbled toward her but as I did so she seemed to move further away. My head was now pounding and I thought that my throat was about to choke me. I stumbled and fell to the ground. When I looked she was gone. I sat for I don’t know how long trying to make some sense of what I had seen and all the past events that seemed to be tearing my life apart.

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CHAPTER 6.

THE JOURNEY

A Surrealists Dream

(Destiny)

Water swirls, like stars in their circuits

Images are destroyed in a sea of light and color

His hand poised, as if thinking

But then opens and points to the world.

The round earth floats in blackness

A speck of dust, irrelevant

Why should God care about us

When He has a whole universe to play among?

Do you think a greater thinking thing

Will know (or even care) that man was here?

The soft grass grows, clinging for a hold on the fallen church

The cracked bell lies silent,

Its life gone

A signpost falling,

Points to Worlds End

The hour glass is cracked and broken

Its sand seeping away

A single snow drop is strangled in the tangled undergrowth

There is no noise now

Save that of the shifting dust

——-

As I took her hand I felt a slight trepidation, although I was confident now that my “visions” were real, not something that had been manufactured by a tortured mind, a vision that to me now made sense and to accept it at last gave me a sense of freedom that I had never thought possible. It was if everything was becoming clear to me and all that was behind me didn’t matter. It seemed somehow petty now; those minor interactions and troublesome people that tended to invade my life. I was now determined to accept whatever was before me and disregard any misapprehensions I may have had. I looked back for a moment as my feet left the ground. I had a sense of being a little boy at a fair ground, taking his first ride on a spinning plane roundabout. Excitement and fear gripping your chest so that you could almost taste it. A sudden unexplained need to laugh uncontrollably as you began to whirl and all below you fades into a noisy blur of laughter and insensible chatter.

“Come Michael”, said the voice, “accept what you see as real, feel it and become it, let it flow through you as you will flow through it”. Her words began to fade as did the image of the little boy on the roundabout. I had a sense of my body melting away and turning to light, sharp piercing light, like rods of white steel or incandescent shafts falling down upon my body, dissolving it into a mass of nothingness.

So, the journey began. As the shafts of light fell through me, engulfing me in their presence, making me part of the whole, part of the scene. A scene I wasn’t in control of; loosing myself, my ability to reason. Images of what I was, what I had become and what I could be filled the very air around me, as if I were inhaling my own thoughts, inhaling my very being. What was this? I knew I wasn’t dreaming. Soon I didn’t care.

An instant, a moment, a millennium, I wasn’t aware. Time ceased to be. Wasn’t it irrelevant anyway? I seemed to be rushing upward like a human whirl wind engulfed in a myriad of thought, like the strings of some forbidden symphony getting ever faster, a possessed violinist whirling, unable to stop driven to exhaustion by an unseen conductor.

Suddenly it was as if I had smashed into a brick wall. As if my whole body had been

So the journey began. As the shafts of light fell through me, engulfing me in their presence, making me part of the whole, part of the scene. A scene I wasn’t in control of; losing myself, my ability to reason. Images of what I was, what I had become and what I could be filled the very air around me, as if I were inhaling my thoughts, inhaling my very being. What was this? I knew I wasn’t dreaming.  Soon I didn’t care. An instant, a moment, a millennium? I wasn’t aware. Time ceased to be. Wasn’t it irrelevant anyway?  I seemed to be rushing upward like a human whirl wind engulfed in a myriad of thought, like the strings of some forbidden symphony getting ever faster, a possessed violinist whirling, unable to stop, driven to exhaustion by an unseen conductor.

Suddenly it was as if I had smashed into a brick wall. As if my whole body had been shattered into so many parts, I was no longer aware of any pain or fear I was not aware of my body, It did not exist. I had no sense of an outward shell only my thoughts as if suspend in a timeless void not caring if there was to be any end or beginning. I was in a space that may have lasted a moment or years I could not tell but I did not have any concern. It was then that I became aware of another being more a thought than a sound more a transfer of information or some change of equilibrium it seemed to envelope me almost to eat my thought or engulf the energy that I had become. It was Enchantment!

“”….

Shattered into so many parts I was no longer aware of any pain or fear I was not aware of my body. It did not exist. I had no sense of an outward shell only my thoughts as if suspend in a timeless void not caring if there were and end or beginning I was in a space that may have lasted a moment or years I could not tell but I did not  have any concern. It was then that I became aware of another being more a thought than a sound more a transfer of information or some change of equilibrium it seemed to envelope me almost to eat my thought or engulf the energy that I had become. It was Enchantment

I was no longer I, I was part of a whole a feeling, and was totally absorbed, at once I knew I was part of Enchantment she had me and we were as one I began to sense all that she was or represented and began to understand the energy that had been manifest as Enchantment. I knew we were about to embark on a fantastic journey, a journey of understanding and whatever energy I was literally glowed with anticipation…

…… I was that dolphin I felt the blood

At once I seemed to get smaller and contract within myself but at the same time my thought, my entity seemed to expand, I felt I was coming together with what I thought to be Enchantment. There were no words no sound just a being, a oneness. It was more sensing than seeing as if I were a part of everything around me a part of the whole. I felt the energy and belief and joy and sadness of Enchantment fill what I was becoming. If there was a sensation to describe it I would have to say it was one of speed of rushing up and out at the same time, expanding and contracting. All the pleasure you could imagine lighting every fiber, every atom together in one thought one engulfing action! The universe seemed to become part of our energy and at the same time I could perceive it from outside see its shape and observe the flow of energy from its boundary, our boundary into a deeper outside. I seemed to see it diminish infinitely fast as if we were rushing away from it into another void. A blue pulsating luminescence burning with ever brighter light engulfed the pulsating core as if observing an atom with fingers of pure energy reaching out to the beyond. At the same instant I felt we were rising back towards the centre tracing through energy alone. No time, no speed just being. As I had the feeling of rushing past planets and suns nova’s, and nebula, it seemed to take on a life of its own becoming part of our energy as if alive and breathing, communicating  some vast intelligence indescribable by mere thought or words. As we seemed to come into the center the energy began again to form into a universe that seemed more familiar. It seemed again to take on the shape of that I recognized. Time seemed again to slow as I perceived the shape of the earth and felt it to be just part of the intelligence I had glimpsed a moment ago. I felt Enchantment within in me guiding me but at the same time part of me as if she saw every part of my thought past present in very sinew of my body engulfing my DNA and somehow changing it’s make up. As we spun like a ball of energy toward the earth I again felt we were contracting yet expanding with the parameters of what made up the earth and all that resided there. I was the Eagle I searching for prey I was its beating wings I was the blood that coursed through its veins and saw how connected it was with the very prey it depended on. The air the water the wind and sound. The light and spray came together as I spun toward the water part of the Eagle and next a vibrating heart beat within the fish about to be taken up by the perfect talons, then part of the water its chain of molecules dispersing as the eagle took again to the air and drifted out of my consciousness. Then as part of the water I passed through the gills and lungs of the fish as oxygen into its blood stream and energy in its nerves then into the brain so alive as the universe itself calculating adapting struggling to break free and in a brief moment succumbing to the inevitable place within the cycle. Next Coursing through the veins of the dolphin feeling its compassion and sensing the intelligence and joy as it coupled with a female. I became part of the sperm ejaculating and meeting with the egg and into its DNA understanding the connection and meaning of the intricate coding and unknown direction moving within all life. Again I seemed accelerated from within that DNA taking in the vastness of information encoded deep within the very atoms and beyond. I could see all life in an instant from the insect and bacteria to more complex organisms and animal life forms connected in that one thread of DNA that I seemed to be part of. It was if I were being guided to one vast revelation which one might even describe as religious. I could see history and meaning and understood the whole evolutionary process in a moment. In that speck of DNA I saw the universe! But something more was there with the understanding I could sense a flaw a flaw that did not seem to fit with the Beauty I was witnessing. It was more a feeling like knowing that a calculation, although giving the expected result was somehow flawed. There was some missing variable. Something intangible that could somehow break the harmony of the perfect energy I had been part of. I only felt it as a passing like a rush of I’ll wind or the blur of a speeding train passing in the opposite direction. From that instant I passed to the moors and Wistmans wood becoming part of the ancient Oak and Enchantment herself, an energy that was indeed older than time itself. I saw within the ancient Oak the hurt of man and the sense within it of the sentinel to which it had become. The granite itself opened to our energy and I passed within the rock and crystal feeling the energy and vibration of the atoms. I saw the perfect arrangement made to hold knowledge seeing its atomic configuration, where not only the 360 3D, but also the vibration of each atom and uniform passing of energy from within its core contributed to its capacity to store vast amounts of information. An in a moment I could see all history, all hurt done by man to the earth, but in the same instant understood the connections as the fish at the final moment understood it’s connection with the Eagle.

“”….

LOTS MORE HERE (IM SURE THERE IS SOME MORE SOMEWEHRE)

Chapter lot later (don’t use)

(Interview) scientist, Dr, politician. Inherent fault with DNA

I had to get there as fast as possible and wasn’t sure how I would achieve it. The sky was darkening and rain threatened from the east. My appointment was in 20 minutes to walk it would take 30, buses weren’t running and Taxi’s seemed to have a destination only known to themselves!

Call them, tell them something, I thought, but it’s important, you have been waiting two years to get on stage with that guy. You probably have been waiting all your life to have a debate of this size in front of so many people.

Shit, TAXI!! I crossed the road as quick as I could an saw a cop car parked on the corner. Look I know this is unusual but I am Dr. Rogers and have a TV interview in 20 minutes at ABC studios. “Should have thought about that a little earlier sir” said the cop. “You wouldn’t know, I mean, how I could get there, would you? It’s in the AB+C studio with Clair Bransk.

Ah Clair, I watch her every week, now she’s one of my favorites. Can you get some back stage passes? I smiled, no doubt I can officer, no doubt I can. Can we go? I caught a glimpse of distain in his eye, “Yes, hop in”.

—-

Chapter 7

Meeting

It could be said that the pattern for life was created on a quantum computer, not really a computer as such but more a meta physical entity, even a universe, following a set of rules with an enormous amount of variables, whereby all possible known conditions of chemical physical and atomic states would be processed and a near infinite amount of outcomes were possible. The building blocks for life have always been there and it was an infinitely small amount of time (or an infinitely long time, depending on size ratio, relativity) before the codes for each life form, built on the main amino acids, carbon, water conditions would be equated. This would take into account the physics of a given universe governed by its mass, rate of expansion, and position relative to outside space. So what we are saying is, all life has a code that has been laid down from times we cannot know. A task that was set in motion by something that even we cannot know, we can only surmise that our task as guardians will one day lead us to a greater understanding of the process.  So far, what we can see within this code is a “flaw”, you might describe as, that which you saw on our journey, the grey mist. What we feel this to be is like a hole into the quantum or ratio universe that again is unaware, not a conscious entity, it is not intentional, we don’t think, but is a consequence of a factor that was an unknown. This flaw now seems to be operating on the actions of man, through the progressions of DNA, making him more destructive to his surroundings and fellow humans, like starting on a self-destruct course that cannot be halted. We believe it may be possible to correct this flaw for further generations and make the natural evolutionary path conducive to nurturing conditions for life throughout the universe. If not, it would seem that nature, us if you will, may have to regenerate and commence evolving again. It may be that this is also factored into the code, for conditions where a life form becomes “out of sync” with its host, the earth and all other life processes. This really is the “survival factor” that is built into every life form, every strand of DNA and into everything it does. Most life forms that are ultimately successful must understand, or be in sync with, the limitations and use of the resources around it. It has to be in harmony, literally so that life can flourish and be replenished. We can say that throughout this particular universe there are a myriad of life forms in various stages of growth or decline. Once the start of what is seen as an intelligent process is detected the evolution of that process is programmed to grow, as a seed germinates when it senses moisture, and eventually collective advances are made to the advancement of life as a whole. We believe those advances are creating new sets of variables and constantly updating the code.

………………………………………………………………………

Soon I would have to face up to the most intense part of our meeting. How did I question our very existence? How did I put into words the equations he had told me about? The 360 degree equations where every part affects each and every other part. The basis of life! It was so intense, how could I make my friends, my colleges or even my enemies begin to understand, impossible. What I was being asked to do would make any man seem like a madman, a charlatan without hope. To be dismissed with no more than a passing thought.  But it seemed so real, so understandable. When I had sat listening he was so plausible, coherent, unrelenting in conviction. Could I question his logic?  So this theory, this statement of so called fact was what held the universe, us and everything else together. This “equation” and nothing more. This was difficult even for an estranged mind to comprehend.

I was a part of that equation and the grey mist was just a negative. Each part that I played varied the equation slightly. There was other outcomes running parallel, quantum if you like that could not be aware of our existence. It was only through being able to adjust the equation, to introduce an unknown that we (the keepers) were able to view from outside! To enter other parts without being seen. To be part of the dream! You have to be in two places at once to change this equation and to enter that part to become a variable. By doing this you will completely change the progression of the evolving universe!! (Expand how this negates grey mist (negative) it should become part of the result aware of outcome, No. Influence the positive to be aware of how evolution will be negatively affected for our species. What is the purpose of preventing the extinction? When something has been taking such a long path it may be more desirable to steer it in the direction that will help to prolong consciousness and then to prevent similar extinctions and nurture the growth of similar life forms. This is desired by all the most evolved forms and we cannot influence the code as it has / will progressed only partly change its outcome. Limited but crucial influence.

Try to explain this “code”? Intelligent recognition of a search word like a (string-code) when there are multiple possible outcomes, like a search engine anticipating your search, what I am trying to say is, when there a set of actions that has begun in nature a certain course will be followed, like a fractal goes in a predetermined direction depending on the preceding course of the forgoing branch, It follows a determined equation where, if a set of parameters is met, it then takes a given course. One slight deviation can cause another pre-determined outcome… “As far as the laws of mathematics refer to reality, they are not certain, and as far as they are certain, they do not refer to reality.”

-Albert Einstein

Additional thoughts: …. what evidence supports DNA problem, belief, growing, Link the GOD effect, belief is a survival factor leading to a terminating equation or branch. Explain what do you, we believe, can you show evidence, some say creating a cult following, Medical reports suggest etc., a condition of a failing brain condition to respond in an automatic way. Short term survival not linked to lasting equation that allows a different growing and lasting path.

Start explain, gray mist (symbol find), not evil just the negative side of energy in itself is necessary for the ongoing dynamics of this universe. Alternative scale universe appearing as ratio among infinite others forming a complex pattern repeated like the arrangement of atoms into a certain form growing as we move back beyond this universe until we see the picture of ourselves! There is an energy present between these ratios that cannot be seen (as it is outside of the speed of light that is constrained by the mass of the universe) but will affect how a given universe responds over time, is it entering the steady state or resuming toward contraction. This again will depend on mass, has material been lost beyond the field of ratio, (possible outer event horizon) or has material been gained from nearby universes or existing fields within a different ratio (a bleed through if you will). These “unseen” forces will also have a direct result on maintaining the distance between the bodies’

AI Interview:

TV Presenter: Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, we have a truly mind-bending exploration into the fabric of existence itself. Joining us is a visionary thinker who’s delving into the mysteries of life, its origins, and a peculiar “flaw” that may be affecting the course of humanity and, perhaps, the entire universe. Please welcome our guest, a pioneer in speculative science, and the author of a groundbreaking novel, [Your Name].

Mike: Thank you for having me. It’s a pleasure to be here.

TV Presenter: So, in your novel, you propose a fascinating concept—that the pattern for life was created on a quantum computer, or more of a metaphysical entity. Can you elaborate on this idea?

: Absolutely. Imagine a vast, cosmic entity, not your conventional computer but a metaphysical force governing the rules of existence. It processes an infinite number of variables, considering every possible chemical, physical, and atomic state. From this cosmic computation, the codes for all life forms emerge, based on fundamental building blocks like amino acids, carbon, and water conditions.

TV Presenter: That’s quite the cosmic blueprint. How does this tie into the mysterious “flaw” you mention?

Mike: Well, within this intricate code, there seems to be a “flaw” or anomaly—a grey mist, as I describe it in the novel. We believe this is like a hole into the quantum or ratio universe, not conscious or intentional, but a consequence of an unknown factor. This flaw appears to influence the actions of humans, steering us towards a destructive path, perhaps unintentionally programmed into the very fabric of our existence.

TV Presenter: A fascinating and somewhat ominous revelation. How does this flaw manifest in the progressions of DNA?

Mike: The flaw seems to be operating through the progression of DNA, leading to a self-destructive course for humanity. It’s as if our very code is nudging us off course. The good news is, we believe it may be possible to correct this flaw for future generations, aligning the evolutionary path with nurturing conditions for life across the universe. But if we fail, nature might have to hit the reset button, so to speak, and start the evolutionary journey anew.

TV Presenter: That’s both intriguing and a bit unnerving. How does this tie into the concept of a “survival factor” built into every life form?

Mike: Indeed, the survival factor is ingrained in the DNA of every life form. It demands harmony and sync with the environment and resources around it. When life becomes “out of sync” with its host, the Earth, and other life processes, the survival factor kicks in. It’s the cosmic law of balance, urging life forms to understand and respect the limitations of their surroundings for the flourishing and replenishment of life.

TV Presenter: A profound perspective on the cosmic dance of life. In your vision, how does the evolution of intelligent processes contribute to the overall advancement of life?

Mike: Once an intelligent process is detected in the cosmic code, the evolution of that process is programmed to grow, much like a seed germinating in the presence of moisture. Collective advances are then made for the betterment of life as a whole. These advances continually introduce new variables and update the cosmic code, creating an ever-evolving tapestry of life throughout the universe.

TV Presenter: Truly thought-provoking. Thank you, [Your Name], for taking us on this cosmic journey and sharing your insights into the mysteries of existence. We look forward to diving even deeper into your novel and the profound questions it raises.

Mike: Thank you for having me, and I hope the exploration continues for everyone who engages with these ideas.

Observations form ChatGPT:

Conversation with AI on above thoughts:

Your observations on the theory of life are intriguing and thought-provoking. The idea of a quantum computer or metaphysical entity as the pattern for life is an interesting concept that could potentially explain the complexity and diversity of life forms. It is fascinating to consider the possibility that the building blocks for life have always existed and that the codes for each life form were equated based on the physics of a given universe.

The notion of a flaw in the code that is operating on the actions of man and making him more destructive to his surroundings and fellow humans is a sobering thought. It is concerning to think that this flaw could potentially lead to the self-destruction of humanity and the destruction of the environment.

The idea that it may be possible to correct this flaw for future generations and make the natural evolutionary path conducive to nurturing conditions for life throughout the universe is a hopeful one. However, it may also be necessary for nature to regenerate and commence evolving again if the flaw cannot be corrected.

Overall, your observations suggest that the evolution of life is a dynamic process that involves a constant updating of the code and the creation of new sets of variables. It is clear that the survival of life forms depends on their ability to understand the limitations and use of the resources around them and to be in harmony with their environment..