Some of his possible minions are turning up on the Pacific coast recently. It seems that the Old One finds a better class of loons on that side of the country than in his traditional stomping ground of New England. So can anyone tell me if there is an Innsmouth, Seattle? Might explain the whole miserable grunge movement at least.

Of course, I see squid that big and I just think how good it might taste. Speaking of which squid is on the menu for me today

1 comment

If you want to buy via Amazon.com please order The Gathering Dark via the advert on the right side of this blog.

No comments

Something about a Fridge
By Andrew Ian Dodge

So what exactly are we doing then Sage? queried Claire. Surely this is a bit tame for you to be driving all the way to Hampshire for?

Oh no you will enjoy this, replied the Sage, peering through papers on his lap as his friend and colleague Claire drove the Land Rover. There is no danger in this one just a bit of clean-up.

I have heard that one before and it never is that simple is it? replied Claire.

Well as long as you dont go stepping into any voids you will be fine, he smirked, I will make sure you avoid ending up in some other dimension.

What are we up to?

Youll see in a bit, he was almost laughing by now. Have I ever steered you wrong?

Dont even get me started, she paused, I have scars to show for it as well! And we dont get danger pay.

What you get paid?

Ugh, you are in one of your moods arent you? She concentrated on the road. You are more dangerous when you are in a good mood than any other time. Now you got me all paranoid.

Well a little paranoia in our game isnt necessarily that bad now is it?

Oh hush you clever ole git, she grimaced while smiling. If you wind me up any more we may end up a ditch and not get there at all!

Look a mate of mine on the local police force asked me to head over and check a house that was a bit odd. He has been with me on a few other endeavours and he wanted me to take a look at the house. The owner seems to have gone missing and the house is a bit here & there.

Here & there? she queried.

Well he seems to think from reading what the guy was working on that there might be an interdemensional gate or something in the house or maybe even more than one.

Oh shite!

Oh dont worry, from what he showed me via his camera phone its stuck in a loop. You chuck something in and it comes out on the other side of the room.

I see, she turned the vehicle onto a drive and continued towards a house. Ah no green tinge that is a good start. I bloody hate it when we go somewhere and that awful green tinge is about. Gives me the creeps.

Generally that is the whole ideathere wont be any tinge here or that stench.. Just a bunch of papers for me to examine and a few holes to plug.

She stopped the car in front a detached cottage that was covered in a bit of greenery but nothing too worrying. A tall man standing bolt upright was next to the front door.

Ah this but be your police mate, she knew by his stance he was Police via a stint in the military. At ease was still an intimidating sight.

Afternoon Sir!

Oh please knock off the Sir, Thad. There is no superior hanging around to give you gruff for not addressing me properly. The Sage paused and got a bit more serious, so before we go in. No sign of the occupant and nothing else happening.

No Sir, er I mean Sage, I stayed here last night to make sure no one bothered the place and it was normal except for the fridge and that odd bit on the wall I showed you. Nothing nasty showed up to bother me. Sky even works nicely; better than at my place in town.

Well that is good. Maybe when I am finished you can buy this place in probate.

On my salary, not bloody likely, he sighed.

Well we could always put the word about its haunted? I am sure if anyone spots me here the pricell go down a bit.

Haha, so you are as bad for house prices as you are on my nerves Andrew? quipped Claire.

Oh damn where are my mannersthis is Claire. I brought her along to show her what do when this sort of thing happens. She is convinced I am holding back and something nasty is about to befall us. You can reassure I hopeI am failing rather badly.

Thad shock Claires hand and showed her into the bungalow. See nothing to worry about

So what is it about the fridge?

Open it and seenothing gruesome or anything. In fact its probably the cleanest bachelor fridge in the land!

She walked into the galley kitchen; so beloved in these days of open plan living and opened the door.

Well that is more pleasant than out of date milk & pizza, she said as she stood in front of the gently swirling void that took up the inside of the vintage looking fridge.

Thad picked up a tennis ball and flung it by her. As she spun around she saw him catch the ball as flew at him from his left.

That is where it comes back into the house.

The Sage was in the lounge looking over the pile of papers, charts and books littered on the table.

Ah yes, I thought as much! He paused as was his wont, he was trying to do a jump hack!

A what? Replied Claire.

A jump hack is the modern term for an age ole quest. Clever people have always tried to figure out a way of using various methods of instant travel via dimensions to be able to jump around in their own world. Its actually quite easy, but requires precise timing and lots of concentration.

Its easy

Yes, quite. Wise men and mystics have done it for millennia. In fact many norms do it as well and dont even know it. Mostly right before they die.

What…now you got me really confused

:Claire, you are a witch you must have heard of people seeing a rather ill loved one right before they die even thousands miles away. People think its a ghost; in fact its actually the person broadcasting themselves to where they wish to be.

So they arent a ghost?

Neither noticed Thad step back from Claire when she was referred to as a witch. It was the first time he had heard someone referred to that way in a positive sense.

Well technically nono more so than when certain prophets were seen to take journeys across vast distances. They arent actually moving; its just their broadcast of their image. Of course, some great men can actually move themselves via the same method over distances. That is a very rare talent and one that mystical seekers have been trying to achieve for millennia.

So what happened to this guy?

Not sure he could have managed it and is now trying to get back here via conventional means. Since its been several weeks I rather doubt it. Probably he lost his concentration and punted himself into another dimension or space. After all chaos theory tells us there are infinite number of dimensions occupying any one space.

Oh god not that again! He covered her ears mockingly. The last time you were on that subject I had a headache for a day.

Thad cleared his throat, so Sage what do we do about it. Even if I get the house I dont want the hole in theerwhatever in my wall. My mother would never let me live it down.

Oh its very simple. All you two need to do is pick up the fridge and chuck it into the hole in the wall. That will cause it to feedback and close. Might be a bit of shaking but nothing serious. Ill stay seated here if you dont mind.

His two companions in the house looked at him in both disbelief and some frustration.

You mean thats it? No incantation or ceremony? Spluttered Thad.

Oh no, nothing so grandiose. Not everything is so complicated you two. In most cases its merely know what to do. He paused again. Thad you dont mind if I take this stuff do you? If he returns I can always send it back. He has done some great research here. Very bright lad; just got a bit to cockyI suspect.

Ah yes too clever by half known quita a few of those quipped Claire heading over to the fridge with Thad.

Yes, if he ever returns I would love to have a chat with him. He doesnt look like he was trying anything dark or dodgy. This was esoteric in nature but still very scientific in method.

Yes, its so nice when they are not trying to bring some nasty or other into our world because they cant get their leg over or something Claire had hit cynical mode.

Ouch replied Thad.

What? Despite what you see in films its almost always men mucking about with that sort of thing. Women are too bloody clever to be that arrogant.

But

Actually, despite what it sounds like Thad, she is not on some feminist rant. It tends to be disaffected men more often than women. There are some bloody evil women in the world but then tend to just use mortal charms to do their deeds.

Oh, Thad paused, I guess its the same in police work mostly.

Thad what Claire and I do is not so different from what you do just slightly different methods once we find the buggers.

Oh lets get this fridge in the hole. I would rather not do this at night might attract some unwanted attention. He squatted down next to the fridge. Ready Claire?

As I ever will be, she squatted in a similar manner and used her legs to lift the fridge.

They carried it towards the hole in the wall tipping it towards the spot.

Push the top in a bit and then give it a good shove. Then cover over by me and watch.

They did as they were told and bolted across the room just as the whole house shuddered as if hit by an earthquake.

Claire tripped and fell into Thad. He caught her as one would expect; ending up in a slight clinch.

Both turned red and quickly got themselves to a more professional stance.

I told you would there would be a shudder.

You sod! Claire squinted at the Sage who was now smirking in his normal way.

I knew you two would get along The Sage had by now collected all before him in a bag. I think we owe this man a dinner and a few pints dont you Claire?

She spluttered and headed for the door.

Is that lovely Japanese cum Thai place still going in town?

Ah yes it isI believe the owner is keen to see you.

Yes, she is.sorted out a nice place for us to stay just to make sure I ended up there.

Mum has been after me to get you here since the last time you were around. If I didnt know any better I would say she has a crush on you.

Oh pleasejust a healthy interest in my work.

Hrm, well you did rather save her on the Isle of Wight.

You two coming or spending the night here? Asked the impatient Claire, I am hungry and need a drink of something stronger than bottled water.

As so ordered the pair headed to Land Rover and got in.

Somewhere the owner of the house sat and pondered his fate. He was unaware of the praise the Sage heaped upon him. He sat beneath a large rock and returned to concentrating.

1 comment

Just got one of my copies of the book and I can tell it looks excellent. Chris did an impressive job with the cover and iUniverse did a nice job with the rest. The book is available on Amazon.com & .co.uk so you can order it where you wish.

1 comment

As you probably know I have had a rather rough patch health wise and have a few expenses to go with my hospital stay. If you would like to help this ole’ rogue out please do so buy one of my writing endeavors. (Music fans will have a chance to buy our latest CV later this spring.)

Oh yeah I discovered a few other published pieces as well. I had no idea they were on Amazon. A pleasant surprise; almost as good as the email I got from Amazon telling me that I could pre-order my latest book.

No comments

An Arkham Welcome

It would be inaccurate to say that the Sage of Wales was pleased to be landing in Boston on this particular January morning. In fact, he would rather have been sitting on the opposite side of the ocean just passed over, reading by the fire, his dog Eden by his side. Alas, The Sage had been summoned by his Alma Mater to address them about some of his recent exploits in the study of and battle against Cthulhu.

It was at M.U. that he studied for and received his PhD many years ago when he was in his late twenties. The University school included with the invitation a mid-class ticket on Virgin, his airline of choice, increasing the Sage’s incentive to accept. On balance, the trip would be worth it, but he would prefer to be heading straight north to Maine rather than off south-westerly to Arkham. Indeed, the trip to Maine might have to be put off, depending upon their reception at Arkham. The conference was to include two professors of environmental science. Now just what relation their specialty might be to the Sage’s was something he had just not had time to figure out.

The town of Arkham, while nowhere near as dire as Hull or any other town in the North of England, was not the most happening place in the world. Given its location, university, and unique placement in the world of Cthulhu, Arkham could never be seen as a very friendly town. The university students, again like in any northern town in England, tended to stick to their own for fear of being beaten up. Not much progression beyond the old “town and gown” conflicts. Town and gown conflicts continued to occur, but not with the violence of some past times. The Sage’s special invitation had mentioned that Arkham was experiencing a renaissance of good relations with the university, which he found hard to believe.

The Sage was tempted to bring Rupert along on this trip for protection and company. In his stead, the Sage opted for a lower profile companion in the form of Claire. At home, Claire and Rupert often worked together investigating “issues” which the Sage was called upon to identify or solve. Claire was far less head-strong than Rupert and so for the current trip less likely to get into any bother in a local establishment. The locals were all too prone to nasty remarks about any stranger and the more so with one as outstanding as Rupert. The Sage determined that he would resist the temptation to revisit Innsmouth down the river from Arkham. His curiosity about the place had run its course. He was planning simply to arrive in Arkham, give his lecture, and leave. It all should go according to the schedule the university had sent him, he told himself.

Claire manoeuvred the heinously ugly Dodge Charger rented car towards Arkham. Despite his resistance to it, the car company insisted on upgrading him. The Sat-Nav had been programmed to get them to their hotel in Arkham. It periodically would inform Claire before a turn was in order. The trip was spent mostly in silence. They had chatted most of the way across the Atlantic. Now Claire was listening to a Boston rock station, leaving the Sage to his thoughts. The Sage knew from experience the signal would soon disappear into a mush of static. Radio did not function terribly well in Arkham, not even satellite radio. The Sage wondered if the Sat-Nav, would suddenly go blind and dumb once they hit the Arkham limits.

Claire, for her part, was enthusiastic about seeing Arkham first hand, and with the Sage, too. She had heard so much about it from others on the Cthulhu scene. Reviews were mixed, but Claire’s interest was based on the place being the centre of the occult activities she had found herself flung into. It was Claire’s plan to visit a few of the bookshops that served the university to add to her collection of texts. She was still unsure whether she would be wanted to attend the lecture or would even be welcome. It was her understanding that Arkham, like many Ox-Bridge colleges in her own country, was not that keen on overly clever females. Still, her coming along was better than Rupert beating three shades of dung out of some inbred retard from the sticks. And there was no way she was going to let the Sage go alone. The radio cut out right on cue.

The sudden noise and then silence brought the Sage back to his senses. And sure enough, the Sat-Nav was wobbling, too, so the Sage started looking around to give directions if necessary. It was patently obvious as Claire let her carriage glide over the streets of Arkham that either she had the sense of direction of a bloodhound or she had studied the map as a back-up to the rather flaky GPS system. Claire worked on the old be-extra-prepared principle. The nondescript, if pleasant looking hotel came into sight as they rounded the last corner in the centre of town. Before the Sage knew what he was doing, he was walking up to the desk with only his document bag, as Claire, with their bags was checking them in. The surroundings were not unfamiliar to him. In some ways, with the New England rusticity completely unchanged since his last visit many decades earlier, a bit too familiar. Considering that the University was responsible for most of its custom, it was not surprising the decor of the hotel fit in with the whole Miskatonic U theme. Their room was high enough to have a view of the University’s namesake river, a rather ugly looking body of water, that, while moving, always looked a big stagnant pool.

“Have a nice stay,” was the only thing he heard from the checking-in sequence. Well, that and the unnecessary bell-hop comment, “Nice looking assistant you got there, Prof.” Not deterred by the lack of response, he continued, “we don’t get many women from away ‘round these paahts.”

The boy certainly had a bit of the look of the area, one developed from hundreds of years of limited contact with the rest of the state. Surprising that this isolation, similar to northern Vermont, persisted so close to the large metropolitan areas of Boston and south. The accent hadn’t changed much, either. So it must still be the case that few outsiders came to this town for anything but the university. Arkham was missed by the map makers for many years, a cartographer oversight only recently corrected. The famous Arkham gloom and darkness hovered outside the window before the blinds were drawn.

As the hotel had no room service, the Sage and Claire would have to eat in the restaurant. As he neatened himself up in the bathroom, Claire warded the room for their stay. She would refresh the wards before they turned in. Dinner was filling, but not really much more than that. It was soon time for a bit of reading and bed. Arkham really was not the type of town to go out in. You just did not fancy a nice walk there unless you were with a big group. It still retained that aura of dread and malice, even though nothing major had happened there for a long time. The Miskatonic Valley was one of those places on earth that was never “quite right,” never able to outlive its less than savoury past. Sure, the state had given the town money to improve its roads; the town was still no more appealing for having decent roads. Redevelopment aid hadn’t helped much, either.

The Sage’s sleep was bereft of scenes of anything odd or nasty. He dreamt of nothing, which meant it seemed that he did not sleep long, but that was preferable to the alternative. Claire, on the other hand, did not sleep well. Her face gave it away. She was obviously troubled.

“Sleep well, my dear? I hope the area did not affect you too badly.” The Sage regretted his simple good wishes as soon as he had made them. Something not very good was announcing itself through Claire’s sensibilities.

“Um, yes, well, I slept; not sure if I would call it well.” She knew better than to lie to him as she looked at the Sage’s coal-like eyes looking at her. “Nothing specific, but my dreams did not seem wholly my own.”

“Well, then, it is good you warded the place. You certainly know what you’re doing. I would like to think the occult activity around this town is in the past.

“I do not know the specifics, since I have concentrated on threats in our own islands, but I know from what I have heard it’s a rather dodgy area,” Claire responded vaguely as she made her way to the bathroom.

“Yes. And some would say haunted by your kind of the occult, and by a few black magicians as well,” he responded to her disappearing back.

“I’m guessing these witches were of the black variety as well?”

“Very much so, as black as your hair. I would be very wary of any inference that you practice the occult arts during your stay. They do not share your view of the light and dark variety around here.”

“I will take that into account, Sage. But now, I had better get ready to go.”

“Thinking of that, I think it may be best if we stick together while we are here. I would recommend that we limit our activities to the university and the hotel. Mixing with locals tends to be unwise at the best of times. And it’s best to move around in a group.”

“Are these bad times? Claire was starting to put a few more things together including elements of her night feelings, premonitions.

“My dear there really is no such thing as the best of anything ‘round here. All the intelligent people get out as soon as they can. It’s only us daft twits that actually come back here.”

Hmm,” Claire thought, “is the Sage reconsidering his decision to come here?”

A few minutes later, they headed downstairs to the dining room for breakfast. The Sage thought it odd that no one else was in the hotel. His invitation had clearly stated that he would be speaking at a symposium, so by rights there should be quite a few other guests in town.

As they finished their breakfast, the Sage said, “I know it might sound daft, but we should probably drive to the university.”

Claire said, “Well, it is the middle of winter and in this creepy place, so I won’t object.”

The trip to the university was uneventful, save for a few less than welcoming stares from the locals. Not that this wasn’t normal for the perennially decaying town. Just the rental car was enough, and occupants not from here, besides. Since The Sage’s last visit, a few new shops had opened, a few had closed and the empty shops had moved around a bit, but the town looked pretty much the same. The atmosphere sure was the same.

The Sage would be speaking at the Atwood Science Hall in front of students, faculty, and invited symposium guests. He was still wondering where the guests were. The Sage had been allotted thirty minutes to speak. A single index card held his three main points. He planned to expand the speech as appropriate to the audience. He pretty much tailored his talks to the level of interest he saw in his listeners. Today, he was dressed as one would expect from an ageing academic. Miskatonic had always been a bit less than impressed with Andrew’s old world title. They surely would have frowned had he worn his best Eisteddfod garb. But for some reason, they had overcome their distrust of him enough to invite him back for this event.

The Sage and Claire arrived at the main building on time. No one was there to meet them. The Sage and Claire made their way to the Hall along quiet corridors. As the Sage approached the Hall, he could tell that a meeting was in progress. Perhaps it was some earlier event. By his reckoning, he should be early enough to get settled well before his speech. There were none of the usual student assistants outside the hall to welcome speakers and guests.

The Sage opened the door to the Hall. “I see you have finally arrived Andrew. As you can see, we have already started,” boomed a voice across the hall. The Sage felt every eye in the room focus on him.

A slightly quieter voice spoke, “I told you he brought that vile witch with him. And we wonder why things have gone the way they have?”

“Oh bugger,” the Sage said to himself, not realising he had said it loud enough for Claire to hear.

“Whom I chose to bring with me to Miskatonic is none of your business, young man. My assistant is a valuable colleague.” He was cut off.

A voice boomed out, local and angry, “How dare you bring a witch to Arkham! Didn’t you learn any local history while you were here?” The speaker paused to gather his breath. “I suppose you’re going to tell us that she had nothing to do with the disappearance of the rest of the speakers today!”

“Don’t be daft. Or rather, in terms you use here, absolutely not. And what are you talking about?”

“Let’s get the police to lock em up!”

“There will be no arrests of these two. They were invited here by the University and are under the protection of the University. No matter how vile they happen to be by your lights. ” The President of the University paused and without aid of a microphone intoned, “You, Hyacinth, heard the eyewitness reports. This had nothing to do with your witch legends. This is a case of agents of a non-human nature: ones with which Andrew is well acquainted in his role as Sage of Wales.” There was no doubt of his contempt when he said those three words. Was this completely sarcasm? Was he referring to these reports?

“Bloody charming, this lot, aren’t they?” grumbled Claire, entirely to herself.

“Typical a fucking Brit shows up and all hell breaks loose.” came a remark from a bystander sporting a typically fake Massachusetts Irish accent.

Claire spoke before the Sage could catch her. “Wales is an independent country now, you finian oaf. And I would watch your tongue speaking to the Sage. Show some manners.”

“Why you bit…!”

“I will have quiet now if you please.” The President was seeking to restore order and perhaps get to his next step in whatever this meeting was meant to accomplish. “Next remark like that will get an immediate and physical expulsion!” He paused and looked directly at the Sage. “I suppose we should tell you exactly what we know.”

“Yes, that would help,” mumbled Claire to herself. “Do you mind if we sit down?” she said a bit louder, leading the Sage to an empty seat.

“Welcome to Arkham,” snorted the Sage, but to himself. ” What in all Hades was I thinking coming back to this place!”

The stern President firmly grasped the lectern, his knuckles going whiter and whiter, as he began to explain the details that were available, glaring at anyone who even attempted to interrupt him.

“We do not know much. But I have been told by the police the following: The car disappeared early yesterday evening just outside Arkham in the county on the main road. There were several witnesses in cars travelling in both directions on that stretch of road. The car containing your fellow speakers, Dr Emmett Claridge and Dr Frank Gordo, was suddenly enveloped in a large black cloud that came from the sky. The cloud then rose from the road, and there was no vehicle. No other car was affected.” He paused and sighed. “There has been no signs of either the occupants or the car, since.”

“Has there been anything odd going on recently, before that?” asked the Sage.

“No. Not that I know off. I had hoped all that was in the past,” he said wearily.

The President was interrupted. “Of course not. Nuthi’ bad happened until you and your witch came along!”

“I can assure you we had nothing to do with this. We were not even on that road at the time to witness this.” responded the Sage in quiet tones, partly to the President and partly to his attacker.

“It might be a good idea to leave, before this lot get hostile,” quipped Claire, just loud enough for the Sage to hear.

The Sage continued in quiet tones directly to the President, “I will be happy to look into the matter further. I understand this is what you are requesting.”

“Yes, as I have heard you do that sort of thing, I would hope you could lend a hand, Andrew.” The President sounded sincere, his expression however was more of a sneer.

“Then I will get right on to it. Please send your information to me at my hotel. I will make some enquiries.”

The President, seeing that he had in fact given the Sage leave to depart, not quite what he had intended, said. ” I suppose I could do that, but wouldn’t you rather stay here and use our facilities?”

“Um,” the Sage said to himself, “that would not be wise.” And to the assembled company, “I would prefer to use my own resources in this case.”

“As you wish.” The President was not happy with this result and neither was the quiet but murmuring crowd.

Before he knew it, the Sage was in the car heading to the hotel. Claire drove quickly and kept a keen eye on the rear-view mirror. Why did the Sage have such a strong desire to get the hell out of Dodge?

Their room was undisturbed, not even by the hotel’s cleaning staff. Claire looked relieved.

“If it were anyone else but you, Sage, I would think that you would be keen to head straight out of town and leave this nasty place behind. But then again, I know you.”

“Well we are probably leaving. Just going to do a bit of investigating along the way. I know this lot very well and have seen what they can do to someone they don’t like. Especially when connected to the university. That doesn’t mean we are not going do anything. We’re just not going to make it too obvious. Too bad. I know they won’t send us any information! We need to go on what they told us.”

“Yes, I thought as much, so I borrowed a copy of the information that was handed out at the meeting before we arrived. Someone in front of us had put it beside him on an empty seat. “It is headed ‘The Arkham Society for Purity and Decency.’ Looks more a call to arms than anything else!”

“Do you think we can sneak out of the hotel?”

“Why? We can’t sneak our rental car out of town, in any case.”

“Well yes, but we can at least get ourselves some lead-time, if we play it right.”

“Hrm. Do you have any idea where we are going?”

“Yeah, we’re heading back to Boston. I am going to drive. I want you to see if you can sense anything once we get to the point where the car disappeared.”

“Ok. It is scribbled in here on the sheet where the disappearance took place. A call to posse it may be, but useful to us, anyway.”

“Yes, now let’s hurry.”

The two quickly gathered up their things. They used the back staircase. It was musty and creaky but did not attract attention. The car was just where they had left it and in fine condition. They were both starting to worry about everything. The Sage triggered the locks, and they tossed their things into the back seat.

“We are going to head back to the University and then out of town,” said the Sage as he carefully negotiated the several streets back to Miskatonic. “When we get there, I want you have lots of papers in your hand and act as if you are getting them together to get out of the car.”

Why?”

“I want it to look as though we are back to meet with people here. Trust me, these people are not as quick-witted as in other places. We will make it look as though we are staying here a while. But then, after slowing down around one or two of the buildings as if heading into the parking lot, we will get out of sight of the Hall. I will head out the back entrance to the University. When we get moving on that main road, we will try to figure out exactly where the car went missing. Hopefully those notes you have will be helpful. You will know when to start sensing. I’m guessing there will be quite a bit of residue in the air.”

They did as planned. There were few students about in the back area of the campus and their departure was likely not observed. So, after a few minutes, they were on their way. The supposed place of the disappearance was several miles out of Arkham proper, but there was nothing there. No police cars or residue. It was just another stretch of badly maintained Miskatonic Valley blacktop. The Sage drove at a decent pace, but not fast enough to look like someone fleeing.

“Nothing” Claire sighed. “You put too much faith in my abilities this time. Maybe it is because I am out of my element.”

“Shush. Pay attention. I suspected they might have lied about the location. Now, look at this. This is one place you don’t want to be caught loitering.”

The road was very narrow and badly over-grown. On either side was an impenetrable forest that seemed to absorb any light. The trees on both sides bent over the road almost blotting out the sky.

They continued to drive towards the county line. Claire was feeling more and more confused.

” Do you think they were lying about the other professors? To get to you?”

“Possibly. But I doubt it. Just hold on. Let’s concentrate on this here. The Sage’s familiarity with the countryside here was suddenly kicking in. I think we may have something here.”

As they approached the county line they could see the sides of the road clearing before them. After some high scrub on either side, obscuring the county line, farms opened up on both sides of the road.

“Start paying real attention now,” ordered the Sage.

He began to slow down checking his rear-view mirrors for… anything. After the first set of farms there was an open field on both sides of the road. Claire began to perk up.

“Things just got creepy, Sage. Like back in Arkham, but far more concentrated.” She shivered as she spoke.

“Alright, at the risk of treating you like a bloodhound, try to tell me which way they went!”

“I think it is over towards that building, over there near that ridge.” Claire was pointing to a tumble-down barn of incalculable age almost leaning against a hillock.

The Sage slowed down and carefully drove his the car along the dirt road towards the decaying building. As he approached, he quickly turned the car around to face towards the road.

“Alright. We will have company fairly soon but hopefully not as bad as if it were after dark. We need go have a look and then leave very quickly They will know the minute we open that barn door.”

The two of them got out of car, slowly approaching the barn near the hillock.

The Sage said, “I suggest that I go on in,” to Claire. “You keep watch. If you see or feel anything, yell, and I will come immediately. You know the rest.”

The Sage opened the creaky barn door, cursing the old hinges. He needn’t have bothered. The door fell off in his hands. The dimming January sun was bright enough to shine off the metal a few feet inside. After carefully removing the other barn door to give a little more light, the Sage approached the driver’s side of the car. He spotted a bottle of water in the back seat. He opened the rear door to grab the bottle, quietly shutting the door of the car. As he approached the front of the large American rental care he saw two shapes that looked vaguely human and completely still in the gloom. Whispering a small cantrip to himself, he opened the water and then the front driver’s side door. He violently shook the water trying to aim it where he thought the heads might be, then quickly stood back.

“What the…?” exclaimed one of the two men.

“What the hell are we doing in this barn?” the other said, as he sat bolt upright in the car, instinctively dusting himself off.

The Sage was invisible to both in the gloom. “Get out of the car quickly and come with me. Move fast!”

“What?” exclaimed the younger one.

“Now!” commanded the Sage as he heard Claire begin to scream his name.

The two men did move, propelled by the Sage towards Claire’s voice. They felt themselves being shoved along towards another car. Blinded by the sun, they stumbled forward as one across the frozen gravel road. They were pushed into the back seat of the car. It was then the Sage heard the horrible sound he had heard before The hissing cacophony filled his ears and drove him to distraction.

“Whatever you do, don’t turn around. Keep looking straight ahead. You
are safe now.”

Claire and the Sage jumped into the car. The Sage started the engine and floored the accelerator. He could not prevent himself from looking into the rear-mirror to check on their flight from the menace, as the car twitched and swung about in the gravel. The large engine screamed in anger as the car hit the paved road, slamming all its occupants into their seats. the noise almost cancelling the screech of the black cloud behind them glowering at them all. Just at that moment, the barn erupted into green flame, followed by a red explosion. The Sage concentrated on his driving, listening to the scream of the engine to try to block the screeching in his head. They did not slow down for many miles, finally pulling into a gas station.

“You drive,” said the Sage as he slid over into the passenger seat. The Sage collapsed against the just closed door, barely having enough strength to fasten his seat belt. Claire jumped into the driver’s
side.

By the time the gas attendant saw he had a customer, they were already moving again, towards Boston and relative safety.

“Will he be alright?” asked the younger professor, Doctor Gordo, as they soon learned.

“I hope so,” replied Claire.

They drove in silence.

At the hotel near the airport, the two Professors, Claire, and the Sage checked in, and they agreed to meet for dinner. A half hour later. the Sage got a call from the two Professors pleading for their help with the rental car company. It seems they were facing a demand to pay for the car, the whole car. Fortunately, the hotel had a branch of the rental car company in its basement. The Sage was not happy to be awakened from his sleep, but he agreed to help.

As you might expect, the blmbo at the desk did not give him much time. Fortunately, this was such a serious problem that the local area manager, at Logan, raced over to relieve his new hire. The Sage, either due to fatigue or angst, was on a roll. He was sitting in the bar waiting for this manager to show up, using his anger to avoid thinking about what had transpired during that long day.

The local area manager did not know what he was in for. Claire, had she known what was about to happen would have felt sorry for manager. The manager rushed into the room extending his hand to the Sage while looking for the other two gentlemen whom he knew to have rented the car.

“Excuse me, I was wanting to speak to the people who rented our car,” said the man.

“I’m afraid they are not in any condition to speak to you. They have asked me to speak on their behalf. I have advised each to go home and stay safe in the future.”

“Are you their attorney? Because I really have to say there is no case.”

“Actually I am.” he paused and rose in his seat, “the Sage of Wales.” He paused to let information that sink in before continuing. ”...and I have seen what these poor men have been through.”

“So you were there when the vehicle went missing?”

“Yes, in fact, I was there saving the two men from being taken.”

“Ah, is there a police report?”

“Yes. You can contact the Arkham Police Department. They will tell you what has happened to these two men. And to your car.” The manager went pale and lost his bravado. He reached for the closest glass, taking a stiff gulp from the Sage’s beer. The Sage continued on the offensive. “I think that it might be wise if you were to let this one go. I could tell you what actually happened, or you just consider it stolen.” He looked at the pale, uncomfortable man and stared into his eyes.

The young man, initially full of vim and vigour, now tried to regain his composure. “Is there any way that you can assure my manager of your eminence?”

“Yes, of course, what do you need? I can promise you that I will make sure your manager knows that I am legitimate in my position. Leave your details at the front desk and I will be in touch when I get home to Wales.”

As the young man scurried out of the bar back to the airport, the Sage finished his beer. He suddenly became tired, so very weary. The next day he was not sure how he had made it up to his room before he feel asleep.

His sleep was not as calm as it was in Arkham, but the Sage finally slept, the promise of a swift return to his home in Wales in his mind’s eye.

1 comment

Some pay tribute by sacrificing virgins, other by deflowering them. Others prefer confectionary to make their tribute. You can eat cake and still pay tribute.

Via: Feorag

No comments

Alan sends me this link for a Bic Crystal pen. Someone has managed to mention Cthulhu in their review of the “crystal” pen. Rather amusing where mentions of Cthulhu creep in these days.

No comments

This piece from Frog Fanny in a designer showcase catalogue my mother has just gotten seems to suggest some troubling dreams. Who says all Cthulhu art has to be cheap & sordid?

And this is what happens to a deep one when they really piss Great Cthulhu off?

No comments

The guys over at Crooked Timber, a Cthulhu-esque sounding name for a site it has to be said, have come up with this alternative logo for the Republican Convention next year.

Thanks to Alan for the find.

No comments

Those of you heading to Blackpool should beware of such ladies. There are not many attractive women in the area so you would be more likely to succumb to such a siren.

No comments

Via: Boing Boing.

This’ll keep you amused or insane until we get CoTV sorted for this week. Still some teething problems in the hand-over.

Here is Dodgey’s new logo thanks to our buddy Theo.

No comments

From the occasional Diary of the Sage of Wales:

A short entry because I do not want to forget this. Rupert and I were in the pub tonight and there was a guitar and vocals type bloke singing.

We went to the pub to drown our memories of today. Our host does not drink you see.

They are wonderful people at this place, and its well protected from any nasties. Alas, they are not only basically vegetarians they also dont touch any stimulants.

And people thought it was only mainstream religious types of stayed off all that. Pagans can be just as straight-edge as Mormons or any one else.

I digressmust be the ale talking.

Anyway as I was sitting with Rupert lost in a mixture of my own thoughts, the ale and food coma. The steak had that effect on both of us.

The words of the song or at least what I heard. I scribbled them on a paper napkin. I dont even have any idea what its called.

Together is all
Us against them all
Standing for what is right
Not always about might

What is all is true
Get a bleeding clue
Its about our survival
Not about silly rivals

Its a fight for survival
About our basic ideals
And what is truly real
Martyrdom aint our bag
Suicide is a total drag

But what you are
Be what you are
Is what got us all far

Stand up and fight for what is right
Stand up and fight for what is right

It just struck me as apt for what we are doing.

And hell it will beat the images I could be stuck withthe half-spawn of the deep ones glaring at me as we fend them off with our symbols. Driving the mutants back into the sea and closing yet another one of their land-falls.

Sweet dreams for me I hope

1 comment

Boat found high on Syrian Mountain may be The Ark

The Sage laughed to himself as once again people spent money chasing a fairytale. Millions has been spent in costs and bribes to chase the mythical Noah’s Ark even though it in fact sat in the English (nee British) Museum in London. An encouraged ignorance of the double meaning of the word ark had allowed a great secret to be held in plain sight.

The Sage was one of those few people who knew secret. He knew both the actual cause of the biblical flood and the nature of the actual ark.

When the Sage was a young man he was frustrated by the “lie” as he was keen on getting the truth out. As he got older he realised that it was a better lie than telling the average person that actual truth to the tale.

“What are you laughing about,” asked Claire.

“Just another headline about the Ark,” he responded.

“Oh yes, I remember you told me they were on about the wrong thing and it was a large secret but you never told me why..,” she paused and sat down, “you told me you would tell me sometime.”

“Oh yes, I did that is true,” he smiled and in a mocking tone, “I suppose I can trust you.”

“What about Eden?” She patted the dog’s head, “Should I send her onto the couch for a rest?”

“Oh no she is alright, her hearing is good enough so she would hear anyway.”

The Sage took a sip of the tea that had appeared by his side while he was not looking.

“I am sure you realise that the whole two by two thing is a load of cobblers right?”

“Well doh, yes that does seem a bit muchembellished myth no doubt.”

“Well you see there was never a boat in the first place. Noah was heavily involved but he was not building a boat. As with many tales it was half right; he was collecting specimens. Just not of animals.”

Claire opened her mouth to respond but thought the better of it.

“He was, with his sons, collecting plants samples before the incoming cataclysm. They knew they would not be able to return to their lands and they wanted to take what they knew with them. Noah was in fact a great leader and a very wise man. He saw the signs of the deluge and acted accordingly.”

“Ah”

“He knew it was coming and would bring disaster to the area. The earthquakes and strange gasses were a clear sign of what was coming.
Noah had listened to the ancient tales of woe and paid attention to them. He was keen on legends and myth from the time of early man.”

“Wasn’t he told by God to build the Ark?”

“Well he certainly was “told” by the heavens. But it was a case of observing the stars and their alignment. Or rather certain stars.”

“Ohlet me guess a certain bit about when the stars are rightyou are not telling me Cthulhu was responsible for the flood?”

“Yes, of course, it was yet another attempt at his rise from his watery grave and one that almost succeeded in fact. The Med was mostly created by this event. If we could get to the bottom of that sea you would find some interesting temples, ones that would surprise archaeologists without the knowledge.”

“Ah so what happened that stopped it all”

“Well that is something that has been lost in the mists of time. It had almost completely risen and something or someone managed to close the portal. Rumours persist that it was in fact a massive volcanic eruption or even a meteor. But that we will never know.”

“So it was miraculous in a sense”

“Oh very, it was almost the end of all human life on earth. The Phoenicians worshipped Dagon which some believe is the embodiment of the creature that arose and others hold it the “god” that prevented it all. It has been rather muddled since then.”

The Sage then took a picture out of a file of a rather plain looking
Omega shaped pottery jar with an embellished lid on it. ?

“This is the Noah’s Ark. Even the experts at the museum admit it’s a “rare find” . When it was filled it contained specimens of all the important plants to Noah’s people. Enough seeds of each kind to start things again.”

“Wonder how many other mythical things are hidden in plain sight like that.”

“Oh plenty I can assure you. It’s the greatest way of hiding things the world has ever known. Its only obvious to those who know what to look for.”

“Good point. I guess as an “occultist” I have learned not to think that way,” said Claire with a sigh.

“And, like many other such secrets, I doubt if the truth is ever to be known to all. It is too much to risk. Revealing one mystery might lead to another mystery the world is not yet nor might ever be able to handle.”

“So, if that happened does that mean that Ry’leth is in the Med?”

“Its possible. Its strange songs certainly would explain the constant turmoil that curses that region. Or it could be that is just one opening of several.”

“Oh there you go cheering me up again” she rose, “more tea and a cheerier subject perchance?”

“Oh you’re no fun anymore,’ The Sage complained.

“Do be quiet you ole’ wizard you,” she threw over her shoulder as she trotted off to the kitchen with Eden trotting behind for some more tea.

“Fine, I won’t tell you where the other Ark is then”

The Sage turned back to the screen to the next story.

New Island found off the coast of Antarctica

4 comments

It had been a while since I had the time to do any of the translating work I have wanted to do. Because of my contacts and the nature of my work, I have come to know quite a number of archivists and minders of large collections.

Quite often they would send me little snippets of things they thought might be of interest, some wanting reciprocation, others merely sending me material they had stumbled on in their work. At times there is information that ties up with something I already have in my possession. On this occasion a friend in the English National Archives was able to date the paper to determine it was not a fake.

The following is one such piece of my familys history that Claire and I have managed to translate. It tells the tale of one Sir Dodgius the Black of Norfolk.

Shaft of Payne

I write this near my death having lived a long and fruitful life. I depart leaving my beloved and faithful wife Gertrude and my two healthy sons: Arthur the Wise and William the Fair. To them I dedicate this tale for they have remained steadfastly by me in my last few years of woe.

With this parchment you will find a small dagger. You will note the hilt which you might think to be a broken spear shaft. I can assure you it is not. It is a thing of great pain but also great strength and great goodness, for it has brought me both. Or that is what I thought in my younger days. To those who follow in my footsteps I earnestly advise that you take care with it.

Let you who read this beware! Make no rash judgement of this matter for there is danger to the unwary! This small blade is known by my family as the Shaft of Dodgius.

The manner of its coming into my keeping is uncertain to me. It may be I picked it up in a battle fought in this demesne against a band of marauding Saxons bent on revenge. Whatever the means, it has been in my possession since that bloody day more than 10 winters ago.

I then thought little of it but soon found it out that, whenever I went about, even when not bearing my shield and sword, the weapon was ever on my person. I have no memory of consciously picking it up and strapping it to my upper arm but it is ever there. It sits on my right arm even as I write this.

I was never numbered among the great warriors of our people, finding my intellect far more useful than my ability with sword and shield. I was but the once on the battlefield and that only in defence of this manor. I was not among those who fought when we invaded this land with William the rightful King, since he had need of my services otherwhere. And it was that invasion that is partly responsible for my rather odd fate, the fact that drives others from me no matter how much I aid them.

Once we arrived in this flat land from across the sea our ranks grew at quite a goodly pace. There are some among our number with whom I have always been uneasy, for they are in truth an odd people with an unworldly look about them. Beloved by many in this town for their ability with fishing and the sea they seem to be unwilling to give answer as to what part of the Kingdom they call their home. When pressed I am merely told they come from a land at the far reaches of what I know.

It was in fact by my rights to ask these questions as I was given leave by the King himself to chronicle this area and its inhabitants as part of his Doomsday request. And there be others in the town, who benefit for their skills, who give protection to these people, diverting all enquiry.. These strangers seem obsessed with an unholy desire to rut with our women folk and this too, does not sit well with me. One among their number even approached a friend to share his wife in exchange for riches. Offended, he refused.

It was not long after the battle with the Saxon barbarians that I was attacked in my abode. I was at work by candlelight when I was set upon by a small group of the strangers. The mystery of why did not become known until towards the end. Then it was one of their numbers dying words that let me know.

Five of their number set upon me, bursting in my door with swords and daggers ready, yet I suffered no ill effects save one. The battle, for it was such, raged for a few minutes only with me, to my amazement, holding them all at bay. As they grew enraged their taunts grew lower and darker. Their calls to me sounded like none I have ever heard, seemingly coming for the depths of their souls and speaking in a tongue unknown and one that was far from holy.

Despite the frenzied attacked I remained calm with my blade in hand parrying their blows as if guided by God. I say this is in hopefulness because the events that soon followed have made me question from whence came this aid.

At the height of the frenzy, one of the attackers leapt upon me from behind attempting to take hold of my throat. His hand, with its long greasy nails, missed its intended target, landing on the shaft instead. A flash of light enveloped all before me in a blinding flash and in that moment they were gone. So brilliant was the light that it was some hours before mine own sight returned fully.

Had it not been for the veracity of those who witnessed this I would scarce have believed any of it myself. Yet the sign of battle was written clear on my body for my white skin had turned dark brown like the hide of a bear.

Besides this change to the colour and texture of my skin I suffered no other hurt. By Gods great grace my family shunned me not, knowing full well my struggle and its strange affliction had saved them from a dire fate.

The village and its surrounds were not so charitable with this poor soul for they whispered that I had been devil touched. The strange ones disappeared to a man taking with them their skills and the blame was laid clearly at my hearth. My family, my sons especially, defended me to all that would question my goodness. But it was agreed that none shall see my complexion in the village. They think only that my cowl is an affection of my shame.

Nothing was done to my family or myself lest they thus invoke the ire of our King. However, once I am no more I have instructed my wife and sons to make swift passage inland to their King. My sons, good men both, will go to serve the King as I have done and my wife, a wealthy woman from our holdings here will be afforded his protection while my sons inherit.

I know which son I would prefer have the blade but I fear it will make the choice and not I or they.

I cannot say whether this blade is for good or ill but it has served well for me, my King and my family.

(Gorleston 1090)

I was not quite sure of the date at the bottom as the edges of the parchment had been damaged due to its having been sewn into the leather of the sheath of the blade.

After reading this tale I have to admit that I find myself in possession of this blade whenever I leave the house. I have never consciously left it behind when I go out, but I never remember taking it with me either. I have never really examined the thing to be honest. Someday I probably will have to examine it fully. I am rather interested in why it seems to have a thick inner piece of wood encased within a lighter wood in the handle.

Something for another day methinks.

3 comments

The steaming pile filled the air that not only smelled of excrement, rubbish and braken but left a taste in one’s mouth that was foul just by standing near it.

The policeman who stood next to me could barely keep is dour face straight. To open his mouth to speak to me was to gag.

I was here to see the bloated shape that lay below us the body look humanoid, the large head and obviously webbed hands & feet saw to that.

A creature of fiction lay there…in reality. The proximity to my flat worried me intensely…they knew me…

___

If you want to hear this tale read and then vote for it: head over to the 100 Word Challenge.

Comments are off for this post

Pondering Threat
by Andrew Ian Dodge

Lft. Watkins stared out the starboard side of the ship staring at the
blackend shape off in the long distance.

The shape moved as if it pulsed, long arms of black willowing. It
struck the former sea-faring Navy man as octopoid in feature. His mind
quickly discounted an octopus is space…

As shrilll calls became louder and louder about imminent breach on
the starboard he could not help but feel it was a distraction.

“Damnit the threat is coming from the wrong side!” His mind screamed
to himself as readied himself for the forthcoming fight.

Read more Comments are off for this post

I came up with this subject for the 100 word challenge after I won. The live version featured the talented Kim doing the outraged blogger bits.

_____

“Fecal matter?” Gasped the senstive 100 word writer, “what the hell is that Andrew playing at?”

“Well fecal matter is another name for shit, or rather crap which is, of course, the name of the host-blog.” Replied her friend on IM.

“But fecal matter what kind of crap theme’s that?”

“Exactly…”

“No!” replied the exasperated writer, “I have my reputation. What would my readers think of such a tale?”

“That you are a good sport? Happy to take the subjects whatever they might be?”

“After all Andrew has to deal with the lame subjects you come up with.” He replied.

____
There is still time to vote for this tale in the challenge so if you like what you read and hear please give us a nod.

Update: Speaking of fecal matter…why not vote for the worst song of the 70s…reward Don McClean for torturing us all those years.

Comments are off for this post

I dubbed us the Strangers XI.

The natives on the island the cruiseship birthed at for repairs from a “freak” storm, were keen to play us at the English game. The poor sods didn’t know that most of our side were either ex-division footballers or keen-amateurs. The lads didn’t even mind that the priest was ref.

Not a good ref, ignoring fouls but our lads didn’t care one jot. He couldn’t hide his contempt when we won.

He was incandescent with rage.

As we departed I could hear men’s screams of pain as we headed out to sea…and absolute terror.

You can hear it as part of Lairs weekly challenge.

Comments are off for this post

This evening saw the debut of Sarah Jane Smith Adventures on the Beeb. Unlike Torchwood which is a load of camp bollocks. The SJSA was a cracking show which featured quite a bit in it that would pleace those of us who like to find Lovecraft influences. Oh back to SJS for a moment. She was always one of the better Doctor Who side-kicks and not exactly a bad looker either…she has aged rather well to it has to be said. Tonight she battled a plot by “Bane” to take over the earth via an “organic soft-drink”. Now the big nasty had tentacles and one big eye…sound familiar? Even better it was sent off by a high frequency blast. It was crackingly good stuff, especially when you find out its destined by CBBC (ie for children).

1 comment

It was a tough topic but I had to have a go and alas not many others were so inclined. I managed to get my dark tales into a form to meet the topic of the day. Quite shocked but it sort of came to me all of a sudden. Anyway have a listen and see if you think I deserve to win!

Comments are off for this post

First of all in my guise as Marty I have reviewed the book How to Label a Goat by Ross Clark which has a good ole’ bash at Red Tape. One of my 100 word tales appears over at the Storyblogging Carnival which has a healthy number this fortnight. If you like a bit of short fiction its a good collection. One of Laurence’s tales read by my betrothed Kim Benson and produced by me is up over at Podcast Pickle, please give us a listen and a vote if possible.

And finally back that music pamphlet; there was an interesting piece on it over at the American Enterprise Institute entitled Creative Destruction the Musical. CB Music has also covered the piece. Oh it wasn’t mentioned in the COTV this week but I was.

While not my writing it does worry me to see Christopher Booker being censored by the Sunday Telegraph. The bits left out can be found here.

Comments are off for this post

This week the word was interesting and challenging for all but me. It involves tentacles so not a stretch.

Comments are off for this post

NB: If you would prefer to hear me read the tale in a Welsh accent its part of this week’s Dodging Reality podcast.

All Hallows Eve was a special time in the little Hamlet not far north of St Davids, Pembrokeshire. Despite protestations from some in the area; Halloween was not an American invention but part of the heritage of all those who were Welsh from way back. Even the costumes were part of the ritual of the night when the spirits of the dead walked among those of the living. It was not a night to be feared despite what the local Christian chapel maintained. The night was one to celebrate the past and ones ancestors. It was a time to reestablish the chain of history from beginning to now.

Read more Comments are off for this post

Head over Dodging Reality page or just shove this into your iTunes (itpc://rss.mac.com/lagwolf/iWeb/Dodging%20Reality/Podcast/rss.xml).

This week we have a few tales: one from Laurence read by Kim and one by me read by me, a love song (of sorts) from Growing Old Disgracefully and a few other things.

1 comment

Welcome to this fortnight’s Storyblogging Carnival. I hope you enjoy our selection of tales for this week.

Chris Dolley presents The Dog, The Mother and The Dead Whale posted at Author Chris Dolley’s Page.

Postmodern Sass says sends us a series of short tales starting here. It involves Neil Gaiman which is nice.

Kai sends us two tales in the form of Right Place Wrong Time and Wrong Place Right Time.

Mark A. Rayer sends us The Empty Arches.

C. L. Frost’s short story is called Paradise Emporium.

The Rocketman presents Unknown Onward Drawn – An Epic Fairy Tale posted at The Rocketman’s Change For A Dollar.

Madeleine Begun Kane presents False Alarm posted at Mad Kane’s Humor Blog.

Mama Duck presents The things I do for this child. posted at Lil Duck Duck.

Doc Rampage offers up Mist Magic parts 3-11

And from me:

First of all in 500 words “All Hallows Eve” & in far more words spoken as part of Dodging Reality with one called “Band of Doom.”

I hope you liked at least a few tales in this collection. I would encourage all of you to use the Blogcarnival submission systems for this carnival as it does make things rather easier for the host.

Comments are off for this post

He has finally be included in the Library of America. Hit & Run has the details and an interesting discussion beneath. My next piece of Cthulhu lore has been entered into FTTW’s Halloween story contest.

Comments are off for this post

I am contributing almost daily to Lair’s latest 100 word writing challenge.

Comments are off for this post

For Cthulhu Awareness Day. Wear you green tentacled ribbon with pride!

Comments are off for this post

My colleagues in the Storyblogging Carnival expressed some regret I was just doing 100 word tales these days. So in response to demand I have written a short story. I hope you all enjoy it.

Deepsouthend

The Sage sat at his desk chuckling as he wrote down his latest
encountered with his lifelong enemy and its efforts to infiltrate
humanity. A veteran of the fight against the Great Old Ones and their
minions; it was rather rare that he found anything amusing related to
his task. But this one just had a tinge of typically British humour
about it.

“The Southend Incident” the Sage titled his latest entry into his
journal of investigation. Happy with the title he began to type the
events as remembered them. What follows are his words to whom ever
took up the fight in later days.

We didn’t mean to find ourselves heading towards Southend on Sea on
the South Coast of England. In fact I would have rather been lots of
places, such as my lovely home, than heading down the motorway
towards the coastal town. I have to admit to remembering some amusing
times chatting their venerable MP Sir Teddy Taylor and his wonderful
whiskers but I didn’t burden my colleagues with any anecdotes fuelled
by port and cigars.

Read more Comments are off for this post