Diary Of An Occult Resolution Assistant

by Chris Norgate

  Harahel gave a snorting laugh. "Call me Hal, Harahel is so stuffy and formal don't you think. And I cannot describe myself as anything from your list or others that may be floating in your head, I try to keep myself as removed from that sort as I possibly can when I can avoid it. As for your task, you just have to walk, in pick something up and walk out again. Don't say anything you shouldn't, don't turn around on your way out and whatever you do, don't touch anything inside other than the package and even then only hold onto it by the wrappings, just to be careful you understand We don't believe anything untoward would happen to you but we don't want to push our luck."

  "Thanks, you're all heart." I said as sarcastically as I could manage without wanting to unduly upset anything that wasn't as human as the next man, and as I had a chance to look around the vehicle I noticed much to my distraction there was no 'next man' in here with us, the steering wheel was turning without the assistance of human - or otherwise hands and the radio was well and truly off. Shit, I should have picked up on the music earlier but it's too late for kicking myself now because if this goes wrong Mr no-hair-out-of-place would do that for me.

  "That's me, and it appears we are here. A car will be waiting for you when you come out but I have business and need to be elsewhere in case anything goes wrong."

  The door unlocked and slide silently open and a chill wind blew in and I found myself in an open moor without tree or anything higher than a small bush, and the few that did grow were bend sideways touching the ground as if shaped by relentless unbroken winds. Colour was drained and washed out and it looked like the land wasn't making even the slightest effort to look welcoming.

  "There you go, pop over there to that mound and I'll see you in a short while. But here this may help point you in the right direction." Hal threw what looked like a mangled mess of brass curved plates and knobbly bits out of the door and as I caught it with my usual style, it landed on the scrappy grassed turf with a bounce. The door slid shut without any physical outside source acting upon it; and then the van drove off leaving me in the middle of no-where, dead central - shouldn't use those words as it felt I soon could be, of limbo. I bent down to pick up the brassy ringed thing and my hands closed upon a glossy white cardboard box, I opened it confused as this was not what I saw thrown but there was nothing else of interest on the floor for miles around. Inside was a plasticy looking smartwatch, all LCD screen and lights. On the screen was an arrow pointing North, or towards the mound at least.

  With nothing else to do I adjusted my underwear through my trousers and patted down my damp armpits, slipped on the watch and marched off towards the mound. If there was magic here or any kind of Otherworldly power then the swears I uttered would really cause Xanthic to have a really bad day and for his knob to turn green and fall off.

  19:50

  Out in the open it was as quiet as the grave, gone the invisible string quartet of Hal and in with a numbing sound of wind in my ears. The mound, just off the path, stood about waist height and as broad and long as small shed and covered in scrappy grass and weeds. Squares of masonry I imagine came from long forgotten farmsteads or retaining walls littered the area. The sky above was grey and comment less other than 'depressing' and it infected the land with its dowdiness.

  The new watch felt alien on my wrist like the coldness and weight of shiny metal from wearing jewellery for the first time and it was far too large for my personal preference - it was also ugly and flat without any Korean style. The watch blinked into life, flashing and vibrating over-actively like a kitten chasing motes of dust in a slant of daylight streaming through a window as I climbed the mound to be rewarded with a slightly larger view of a vast nothingness and the tiny sight of my transport disappearing into the horizon. O.K, to business. Go into the mound and pick up a package. Don't say anything and don't touch anything. Pick up the package and come back out. Easy.

  There was no door, which could on first glance, be a problem. Unlucky enough second and third glances told me there was no door too which was more of a problem. A loose arch of abandoned masonry could look like a door frame from a distance but the strength of the wind and rampant weeds had moved them turning each stone until you had to really focus to see the shape they may have once been: But of a door there was no sign, just scrubby grass and unidentifiable short green leafy things that any botanist would struggle to classify as plantlife . The watch seemed to be very keen for me to be here, the arrow spinning on its computer generated axis like a compass tormented by children with magnets. I hopped off the mound and stood in front of the door and with nothing else to hand I raked at the grass expecting a thin covering of dirt to hide warped and ancient timbers of a door, hopefully with a big door latch that would, after years of corrosion and abuse from the elements, be really easy to open. Unfortunately what was under the toil soil was dirt, lots and lots of dirt.

  Well that wasn't going well and I began to think I was dropped off in the wrong place or Harahel had deliberately made a mistake and Xanthic's message a fake or a joke. To make it worse it started to drizzle.

  '' It's not all bad you know.'' a voice made me spin on the spot and there in near spherical glory sat an old man in an expensive but over-worn blue suit with matching tie, what hair he had left was white and it looked like every remaining follicle was doing its best to get as far away from the others as possible but in stark contradiction his ears and nose were stuffed with the stuff and his eyebrows were as wild as the surrounding countryside.

  “The Lady Valentine?” he said in a tone that could have been a question or a statement.

  “Um, well my name is Valentine but I’m no lady.” I replied curious as to why he was here; he certainly wasn’t dressed for this countryside and looked out of place outside of an office or a child's roly-poly toy.

  “The picture is very flattering, but it is you.” He said looking at a laser printed printout of a photo taken from a picture printed from a woodcut many years ago; it was stylised with deep lines carved for the sky and a very pretty woman holding off a sword attack by a beastly great attacker. Hang on, did he say it was flattering because I’m not that pretty in person? But it did have an amazing resemblance, even my clothes matched.

  “Yes, I believe this matches the conditions in the request.” he continued putting the picture away and drew out a typed list of instructions that I couldn’t see too well. “This obviously isn’t the original you understand.”

  “Yes, obviously.” I replied trying to workout what was going on.

  “And the language has changed over time and many people have translated the request in their own words more befitting the time they needed to be refreshed due to mould, rotting away or in the case of 1843 what was left after a fire; but the gist of it is still there.” he looked proud that he had the sheet in front of him here in this place, I thought he was some kind of nutter.

  “Well, Yes, obviously.” I said again without any thought as my brain was away on other tasks right now like attempting to rebuild normality.

  “You know, we’ve been wondering about this for many generations, at Humphrey, Humphrey and Pennywrinkle we have managed the request for a very long time and no-one really thought today would happen at all. But it’ll make a nice story to tell the Senior Partners upon my return.”

  “What…..what?” It wasn’t Shakespeare level conversation but it was the best I could do. “Look, I am completely lost and can you just tell me what’s going on?”

  “The instructions are quite clear on it; I say ….” he looked down at the sheet and scan read the text till he got near the bottom of the list. “ah, here we go…… It’s not all bad you know, and then point up as it starts to rain, which it did when I said it before.”

  We both looked up

  ''Look, there's even a rainbow.'' he said happily.

  I was caught off guard and looked up at a vivid arch of colour blazing across the sky directly above me. I had only ever seen rainbows from a distance, displaying their trade as t
hey stretched into the distance for miles, far past the limits of my sight with the promise of a pot of gold at the farthest end. This one was as close and wide as if a big top tent had been erected to cover the entire moor.

  ''Why is it so close?'' my question wasn't answered due to the business suited man who had snuck up on me - which was surprising in itself due to his mass, and pushed me hard on my chest with a strength and purpose that caught me off guard sending me flying backwards, arms flailing for anything to steady my falling body. The first solid point I made contact with was, to my misfortune, one of the masonry squares which had in a previous rain rolled to the bottom of the mound and caused my backwards trajectory to change into a curving descent: The second solid object I made contact with to my growing misery was another cut stone brick round about head height up the mound; no make that exactly at head height if you were to fall onto the mound. It struck the back of my head and a searing white lighted pain glances round from my head through my bones and grounding out of my toes.

  The white blindness evaporated and the world around me was spinning into a lazy focus, it was darker than before and shapes blurred into the background making me wonder if I had been rendered unconscious waking after the sun had set? It was also warmer and the air had a thick stale taste to it.

  Soil found it's way under my fingers and much to my annoyance into my hair too. It was sticky and warm in a rich brown and as far removed from the well used and abandoned moor soil as a creamy hot chocolate is from a Norwegian shoe shop on a drizzling Tuesday afternoon in February. Now my sight was adjusting to the new light levels I could see tree roots reaching out like tentacles from ceiling to floor making a small cavern where I was slowly sitting up. I had streaking lightning pains screeching through my brain and I thought for a second I might be imagining all of this in some kind of concussion induced episode; but I knew enough of the greater weirder world that Xanthic had introduced me too when I accepted his offer of employment to know I wouldn't get off that easily.

  Thursday 8th May

  00:15

  The song drifted away on the wind and I felt poorer for it as the silence fell. Mary clapped and thanked the girls and called one of them forward. I recognised the shy Ana walking hesitantly towards the centre of the circle, her head down as the others clapped and called out rewards for her. Mary enveloped her in her arms and I knew this was a goodbye from the Akelarre. Ana was given a long taper in what appeared to be a silver handle and she waited while Mary lit it from a flame kept in a silver oil lamp. Once it was glowing red, each of the girls skipped forward, collected a candle and returned to their places around the circle leaving a space at the seven position if this were a clock, where Ana once stood. And walked to the candles and lit each one carefully and with all ceremony passing over the gap created by her absence; everyone was in silence as the candles all brought forth light. Once completed she returned to the centre and laid the handle with the remaining taper down next to the oil lamp and there she stayed not taking up the song as the remaining girls lifted their voices once more this time in a more sombre key.

  Mary withdrew from a pocket a brightly coloured mobile phone and keyed in a number. My pocket rung loudly cutting into the near silence of the night-time wood and I fished out my phone and saw an unknown number displayed. I didn't need caller ID to tell me who it was if I answered.

  "You came as promised." called Mary loudly across the opening, she was looking quizzically straight at me as I stood up well illuminated in the light being projected from my phone screen. "There is a space for you and I beg you join us."

  I didn't have many options as I didn't want to turn around and run so I stepped forward and skipped over exposed roots and snaking vines and out through the tree line into the opening. A brief hesitation as I lifted by foot to step over the chalk line. I've read the stories and the dangers of crossing the line of a spell or protection and reached the space where Ana had once stood in only a minute.

  "Well hello Valentine." said Mary once I was in place, "I wasn't expecting you this quickly, I guess you don't need directions after all. Welcome."

  I didn't know if she wanted to say more than she did with the words she used and I tried to maintain a neutral expression so I didn't betray my prior knowledge.

  "You look confused Valentine." Mary continued. "the Akelarre, is saying bon voyage to one of our sisters and we've invited you here to take her place as one of the coven. We can teach you the powers of the universe and how to harness them within your body and use it to control the world around you. The men don't understand how only us women can feel the strength and energy from Mother Earth and Sister Moon or the pain they feel when the destructive hand of Man touches her."

  The girls backed off to their places in the circle and started to sing. The tune carried on the wind and seemed to spin around as more voices were added each with their own part with raised and lowered and caused a carousel of sound. The hairs on the back of my neck raised and I felt the pull of the moon and the Earth and static cracked from my hair and fingernails, it was electric.

  The song went round and each voice lifted it to another dimension like another instrument being added to an every growing orchestra and I felt the crackle of power being generated but when it came to my turn I knew not what to say but felt the urge to open my mouth and add to the sound. The song fell flat, as if the very fabric of the music was unravelling into threads that were scattered to the wind, my voice could not rise to the occasion or contribute what was required.

  Mary was there for me like a Mother comforting a child after forgetting lines in a school play. She pulled me close in an embrace and said in soothing tones for only myself to hear. "Do not worry, you passed the first challenge and added your voice to the song, many do not or are stunned into silence, but you participated with your sisters in worship to She. I won't draw this out or paint you a picture to hide what we are, to hide what you are. We are witches; wiccan if you prefer but I prefer Witch. You yourself are one for we can all see it shining within you but you could be brighter and shine like a star and lead others behind you. Are you a Witch?"

  "I don't know what I am, I feel for things but I don't understand anything. I think I see things and hear things and there are so much strange in this world." I hesitated to say more, I didn't want to give anything away but Mary was paying so much attention to me, I wanted to please her, so say the right things and to be allowed to learn from her, to learn more about witchcraft and the power it can give me.

  *

  Witchcraft is like a river, it has a small and often hidden source somewhere far off which trickles through the countryside of your mind. Everybody has it, this trickling and delicate flow but in almost every case drought brought on by a closed mind or choking weeds of unfulfilled potential reduce the stream to nought and that's it, as far as it goes and it dries up, disappears. In others the stream meanders through the soul, twisting and diverting around the stones and pebbles that dam the flow and restrict it to almost nothing; these are the people who see images passing by at windows in the corner of their eye but when they look there is no-one around or they suffer from déjà vu. If the stream is strong enough to break past the blockades that build up with modern education, thoughtless TV and dull everyday life: If imagination and questioning is allowed to foster within a soul, then the stream builds and gathers speed and these are the people who may subconsciously hear the voices of others within them helping and guiding their moves and are universally known as being lucky or knowledgeable in subject they may never have learnt.

  When the stream becomes a river; if the person is of the right (or some would say wrong) mind then they believe they can communicate with the 'other-side' and listen to spirits of loved ones departed; or if they are unaware they are tormented by visions they do not want nor can they remove from their dreams. Witches once trained, or on rare occasions with enough natural talent, can sail upon the river of themselves and of others, seeing within themselves to their str
ength and inside companions to understand their deepest desires and blackest wants; of course they can see what makes them tick, know how to speak to them to get the best of them and to bend them though this to do their will.

  Good Doctors and nurses tap into the waters and it aids their interactions with the sick. Teachers can foster talent in their class and get A's from children others have written off as D's.

  The river can go deeper. In old texts legends of the craft who can levitate on broomsticks - with definitely no sexual connotations, they were bantered about my American tattle rags to spread discord amongst the population and belittle the fine and noble craft and to get a laugh out of their small minded view of witches, or command beasts of the ground and raptors of the air. It is described they have rapids within them generating energy and flow.

  There are also stories of Witches with so much power it corrupts them and they go over the waterfall not knowing where the flow is going, only knowing the raw power of the cascading fluids and draw upon the chaos and turmoil of the plunge, smashing their humanity onto the harsh rocks lying unseen submerged under the fury of the surface.

  I knew I had something, I had read books, kindled sparks out of embers. And through what sense I do not know, I hear music generated by the aura of 'special beings' and get a really wigged out feeling that turned my intestines into writhing eels; It’s not always accurate but I wanted to be part of something greater than just me and something everyone can be part of but not everyone is.

  *

  As Mary spoke to me the smoke had intensified around us and the dancers skipped and twirled as the girls sang and interacted with them; a hand held out would lead a dancer to touch it and pull the girl in a circle, spinning her around and then bowing low to give thanks. I saw girls holding hands with insubstantial partners and skip to the beautiful tune. The song the girls sang gave the dancers purpose just as the flame had given them life. They were all children at play and what happy play it was.