Diary Of An Occult Resolution Assistant

by Chris Norgate

  "Oh my, free." I said with delight over my fantastical escape but in my head I was swearing like a blacksmith who struck his thumb and not the horseshoe. Now do I run round to the front of the pub and see if Mary was alright, or away to find help? The weathered brickwork had felt rough and warm under my hands but that was a Godsend in sensation compared to the next; a hard impact head first into a stone slewed, unruly shrub dominated flowerbed. My legs fell over my body and rolled me forward until I was sat on the greenery heavily soiled and not a single hair in place.

  "Jesus, are you O.K?" asked a young man whose head followed me out of the window. "I didn't mean to frighten you. We just got worked up and thought you were spying on us." the voice was calmer filled with concern as if the fresh air had blown the rage out from between his ears. "Stay there and I'll come out and help." the head disappeared back into the house.

  Not likely, I thought and stood quickly. My legs didn't want to go straight, but they were good enough to hobble round the building and out into the Square that formed the village centre. There were a couple of the guys out front, idly kicking their heels and moaning about the local mad women. They saw me and displayed looks of concern, wonder and confusion - well it’s not everyday you see someone covered in mud, clothes pulled all over and wearing half a bush shortly after you saw them sat at a table in the pub you've just been kicked out of, but they recovered quickly.

  An engine revved hard and a black van pulled up to my side; a sliding door opened a sound wave the size of a Spring tide of orchestral strings crashed over me and a strong grip took me around the waist, I felt the ground move away from my feet and then with a loud slam the door re-seated removing colour from the ending of the day from my sight and replaced it in a depth of darkness.

  悪魔の話 - translation from artefacts found buried under a shrine in Gifu, Japan.

  悪魔の話, Talking with the enemy, an English translation of several partial fragments of original Japanese texts, 17th Century (European dating).

  Extract from a essay translation by Daniel Drake followed by historical notes from the same essay,

  Akechi the retained, sang of his future, glorious and new. His new advisor courage gave and golden led came from the sky. Dark the eyes of Nobunaga, collector of all lands and Shogun of all souls.

  The joke teller who came from the sky whispered of path to follow and to lead the path from the enemy to the gate. Disasters followed to the Lord of the land who fell into his sword in disgrace as hope was given away by his friend that was close. Of the Joker, he sang to Toyotomi Hideyoshi of the deeds done and Akechi was thrown down. But Hideyoshi knew of the Joker who had aided the foot soldier ancestor to height and had sung to him on a koto of the way things will be.

  Nobunaga commanded a vast area of what we call modern Japan after a campaign against the Shogun Ashikaga. Once Ashikaga was defeated and exiled, Nobunaga ruled and promoted peace and education but his trusted adviser Akechi was corrupted by his enemies and betrayed his Master. In revenge, Toyotomi Hideyoshi - a much recorded and great ruler of Japan, avenged Nobunaga's fate and seized control of Japan. These details are recorded, verified and documented by countless historians. But the Joker, or another translation could be lie teller, appears only here and alas there is no more to this writing because the rest is burnt and ashes, we - the research students who are analysing the remaining parts - believe these to be the missing parts. We, and our Japanese lecturers do not know the importance of the red hair used to tie the bits together.

  *

  Essay by Daniel Drake and Felicity Martin as part of an exchange visit to Gifu 1995

  Hideyoshi was jubilant, All before him was under him, people and treasures bowed to him. He was jubilant when the Joker returned from the sky. There was a land to the South that would not bow and the Joker told Hideyoshi not to visit. Hideyoshi went and was defeated. He was furious that the Joker sang to the Lords and Hideyoshi had to return to remove bad stain. When he did not return the Joker sang once more to the Lords and played instruments while the brother fell. The observer sees and the Joker is cruel and the observer fears and the Joker plays. The observer runs.

  Hideyoshi ruled Japan after he unified it after the Battle of Odawara (1590 European dating) he could not conquer Korea. History books tell us that his position was weakened and politicians and family leaders without a figurehead to oppose him in public, continued to support him until his death in battle in Korea. The Western history books do not list the full story of what happened after because conflicts, minor wars and political battles were fought in the leadership vacuum that followed the death of Hideyoshi's successor. Some scraps refer to a Joker or visitor from the sky storytelling of power and seizing dreams in the courts of the powerful families. There are no accurate descriptions of who these visitors were other than not of this land. This student can only suggest for the record that the visitor from the sky was part of a larger team from Europe sent by the Monarchies to spread civil unrest in Japan as they were becoming a nation that could challenged their authority. The breakdown of the Shogunate into warring factions was part of this larger plan to destabilise the country.

  *

  Translation from the diary of a battle field survivor (or observer) 20st October early 17th Century. Made by Professor D. Drake 2007.

  The sky filled the land. Two armies, enemies at war, walked side by side. No blood was lost today, not here and now, men knew it would come but did not want it when their leaders did not order it.

  They talked, these men, like friends of birth but parted by time and distance. Stories were told of the marching and the sword, of honour and deeds done and undertaken by hero's. Laughter cut through the fog, all around me and it made me happy. Then stories of the traveller came, from both side the stories came and they knew they were the same. Then the screaming came. The men like brothers screamed and the fog was full of fear and we ran. Our masters knew the enemy was at their heals and we ran.

  The battle of Sekigahara is recorded as starting on the 21st October, and there are numerous documentations of the coming together of the two armies on the eve of this. The fog, due to good weather meeting heavy rain reduced visibility to virtually nil and stretched for many miles. In this soup the forward party of Tokugawa's army met the defensive line of Ishida's army. Records say both sides withdrew and the alerted Generals knew of the proximity of their foe. But survivors of the siege have left oral legends of the stories told by soldiers they met in the confusion and how rations were shared in small groups made up of all sides. The soldiers fled in panic but the reason has never been fully explored.

  *

  Translation of a broken cover plate under a shrine in Gifu.

  Beware and wail for the traveller from the sky is here. He has always been here and he always will. The song of the Joker will awaken your desire and quicken your defeat. Beware. These things (or This that belong to him) must be forgotten and his name not spoken for by this action he is welcome. Beware.

  Translated by Professor D. Drake from notes and photographs taken in 1993 of artefacts found under a vandalised shrine in Gifu, Japan.

  *

  The red hair traveller is deaf to the song.

  Translation into English from a painted script found partially burnt, buried and tied together with long strands of red human hair, under a shrine destroyed by vandals in Gifu, Japan.

  悪魔の話,

  Extracts kindly reproduced from "Professor Daniel Drake, from student to teacher to student. An expert in Japanese culture and writings" An autobiography by S. Thomas 2013; with permission from the author.

  Professor Drake is a world famous speaker on Japan and its secret history and the influences of demons, angels, spirits, ancestors and European spies.

  Thursday 8th May

  00:10

  I set off through the woods like I was on a mission, which in a way I was. A glow coming from my watch did little to illuminate the path ahead but the green arrow displayed on the small s
quare screen guided me in the correct direction if not the best route through the dense undergrowth with I was convinced was mostly sharp and claw-like and the majority of which was already sticking into me. If only the arrow pointed in a direction I could travel without finding obstacles blocking my path and I could do without the insistent nagging of the watch's vibrations when I had to backtrack and work around.

  It was peaceful and warm in these very early hours and if my night vision hadn't been ruined with every glance at the LCD screen I might have enjoyed the ramble more. Walking into trees whilst temporarily blind can put a real damper on things. Thirty minutes and six tree collisions later my watch vibrated and the arrow disappeared turning the screen black. I crouched down and surveyed the scene before me. An opening, carefully managed to preserve its shape and area lay before me just through the tree line about the size of Xanthic's reception hall at Fernum and ringed with trees as tall as anywhere within the woods. The fact no new trees had grown up to reclaim the clearing meant this wasn't just an out of the way clearing but frequently visited one.

  I came here looking for a coven meeting, so I was a little disappointed not to see a stone alter or giant wooden man constructed out of timber collected from the woods. There was though twelve village girls idly gossiping in smaller groups and marking out, in handfuls of white power from a bucket, a circle as big as the clearing and within a perfect pentagram. I was disappointed none of them were dressed in fine robes, cloaks or even deep hoods; the closest there was were two girls in hoodies.

  A cracked stick startled the group, I strained my eyes to see what was coming from the direction the sound came from and as expected Mary walked in with a large open cloth trug style bag containing an assortment of items including candles and bottles of wine. Although I was too far away to make out what was being said I could tell she was pleased with the progress being made.

  I stayed low, trying to blend in with the background using my dark grey and brown clothes to do so in the darkness which to be honest was every dark shade but black. My patience paid off and the meeting began with Mary taking centre stage while the girls fanned out to equidistant spaces around the handmade but surprisingly accurate chalk circle. When they all arrived at their place they began to sing, a beautiful song of amazing complexity and intricacy with harmonies that lifted the whole forest and raised the hairs on my arms and neck.

  Yesterday 7th May

  A few hours ago

  The door slid back with barely a sound on well greased runners and a faint click signalled the door fixing into place, then a double thunk of an electric control pronounced the auto lock function activating as the van reached for greater speeds in its desire to be somewhere else.

  My eyes were shocked into unseeing by the acute contrast of day to nothingness, but my olfactory system was in finest working order and it was smelling new leather, plastics and petrol. A new car then, still with that fog of escaping vapours from newly fitted parts being kept shut and airless movement. And I'm unhurt - or at least no more hurt than I was when I got here - and still alive so pluses all round. But there is someone here, respiration was occurring loudly and it wasn't coming from me; I knew this for I had not drawn a breath for quite some time and as I gulped in a lungful of chemical scented air my companion on the journey seemed to recognise my presence and ignited a light.

  Ignited was an accurate description as a dominant sulphurous aroma fought the plastics stink to command airspace in my nostrils as if a flaming bag of fertiliser carried by a stink footed labourer in molten socks had wandered up my nose to begin a prolonged workout. The flickering light combusting around the head of the matchstick moved towards a face which held between thin lips a cigarette which glowed at its flat head as the lips owners enticed oxygen through it to bring it to smoking life.

  The man, for it was obvious from what little information I had to hand - and eye - that he was definitely a he, reached forward from his seated position and tapped a smooth screen built into the rear headrest of the front passenger seat. A black glow from a computerised screen booting into life did nothing to enhance the current level of visibility before it flashed into life and out of poor focus into crystal clarity came the image of Xanthic unmistakeable in his sunglasses and slicked back hair.

  "Valey, This here is Harahel, I don't trust him one little bit and neither should you; he’s as straight as a cattle ranchers prod and anybody who has less curves than a corkscrew has something acutely wrong with them, but he needs you to do something for him and in turn for me so we’ll have to put aside your unfounded reservations and get on with it. It won't take long and he'll have you back in the bosom of your little pals just as soon as he can, if you survive that is." he smiled and I hoped he was joking because after that comment I wanted to have a very short few words with him. He continued. "Now, I’m here on this shiny thing because time is short and there isn't time for me to be there to talk to you and in the past Harahel hasn't made that good an impact on my aides; in fact rarely a good impression on any of my acquaintances and this seemed the least sluggardly manner of explaining your brief." Xanthic paused considering his words.

  "What are you on about?" I asked towards the screen but Harahel put a finger to his lips stopping me from saying more and making me feel small and foolish.

  "It’s recorded, he can't answer you back. Although I doubt even a pre-recorded message will stop this one from having the last word or a sarcastic comment if the opportunity arises." he said this in a honey flowing southern accent of impeccable breeding and education.

  ".........and it’s surprisingly close to your current location, no that's a lie, it's an age away. So be a dear and pop along and pick it up for me will you. I'll be there just as soon as I can so just keep it safe." Xanthic concluded and then he looked to the side and I could see the image of Harahel standing there as the camera was moved and then turned off.

  I was glad when the internal lights in the vehicle came on and I could see Harahel and where I was. It was a well furnished van - my knowledge on motorised boxes with four wheels was extremely limited and on the same level as Fat Dave's topographical knowledge of local salad bars and vegan restaurants. There was two cream leather chairs, well padded with deep seats and arm rests where I expected a bench seat to be. Thick carpets which were so soft to my touch like the softest of childhood teddy bears and inviting me to lay my face down upon it for a cuddle. The rest of the van was van, it mattered not; but the slim figure who was watching me like a new born tiger cub in a zoo did so in tan chinos and highly polished black leather shoes topped with a casual pastel shade shirt with top two buttons open. His shoulder length radiant blonde hair was swept back giving a bounce movie stars would kill for look and a gold rimmed acrylic pair of glasses perched on a strong pair of eyes as blue as a tropical atoll; very white skin as delicate as antique porcelain stretched across high cheekbones and a strong jaw. He did not look like a bad boy, more a junior banker or a footballer's accountant, so I was questioning why Xanthic would warn me about him? What kind of a person does a Demon have to warn someone about? If he had designer stubble he might have gone straight to the top of my potential boyfriend list - only might.

  Harahel sucked in a lungful of smoke, and then I realised something very strange about him - one thing out of many, but the others weren't so screamingly obvious or incongruous. None of the cigarette smoke had entered the passenger compartment of the van, not even a whiff of combustion, tar or the slow snuffing of moments stolen drifted past the filter within my nose and nothing was emanating from either the tip of the damned thing or from the 'man' smoking it - you don't light eCigs do you?

  "So where do you come in?" I asked addressing my abductor - what else would you call someone who collected you into a moving vehicle and locked the door no matter how soft his voice or attractive his visage (Man I have to get some kind of anti-kidnap insurance) "and what in God's name do you want me to do?"

  "Please don't throw that name around without any
conviction, I'm sure He won't appreciate it. All I require is you to go into a room, pick up a small package and bring it back out to me and for that I will pay Xanthic an extortionate amount of money and owe him a favour in return. The money is insubstantial and I hope it brings him what he wants, but it’s the favour I will be indebted to return that worries me; but you must know that this duty you have been volunteered for is of the utmost priority to me any my superiors and enough for me to be associating once more with our mutual acquaintance."

  "I've missed something, and I feel it’s something important, What do you expect me to do because I have to tell you I'm not the most co-ordinated person and I often trip over my own shadow so if you want me to courier a priceless Ming vase or something then you had better have good insurance or a lot of super glue in the boot of this thing." I said not wanting to confirm any blagged qualifications Xanthic may have overstated about me. Trusted courier or professional acquirer I am not, trainee papergirl maybe or dog walker as long as you don't mind it coming back covered in mud or several hours late is about my limit. "And what kind of name is Harahel anyway? Are you one of the maggot wriggly ones or the flaming bat wing things? Nice choice of in-car music though so calming it’s almost making me believe I want to be here and haven't been pick up off the street like a crazy kerb crawler"