Diary Of An Occult Resolution Assistant

by Chris Norgate

  One figure, that of a man just short of my shoulder height and dressed in an ever changing swirl of smoke that although constant in movement hung like a jacket of military men long past as if he were fresh from the field of battle and cannon fire. He took my hand with a strength and touch I scarcely believed possible and with positivity he pulled me into his dance. I skipped, raising my legs in kicks and spins enjoying the light hearted entertainment. The stars sailed by high overhead and time ticked away unnoticed until I fell to my knees exhausted and out of breath.

  The smoke figures stopped and gave me rest, I was keeping up but only just. We had danced through trees, across water and into the stars and all the while the dancers pulled me on but the dance has its cost and I was waning fast. I rested, the sweet taste of salty water entered my mouth and I knew it was my sweat running in a torrent across my skin which throbbed in time with my heart thumping with exertion. I could dance no more and the smoke sprites came to me, urging me on. I shook my head in inability to comply with their wishes so I watched as they found new partners with which to carry on.

  Shapes formed from gaseous clouds and energies expelled by universal bodies dominated the heavens and each as intricate and as delicate as a snowflake and just like a snowflake no two were ever, or will ever be, the same.

  Wednesday 7th May

  19:20

  Soil fell in fine particles from the unsupported roof of the tunnel, my footsteps causing enough pressure to destabilise the undisturbed and delicately balanced tunnel construction in a worrying fashion. This tunnel, dug out of the soil by who know whose hands, or whether they had hands and not claws, talons, scales or any manner of burrowing devices natural or ‘Otherwise’; but I did know who/whom/what-ever dug this, they did not believe in shoring up or straight lines - the tunnel bulging and mirandering as fragile as dried out shed snakeskin. If it wasn't for the huge trunking of tree roots plunging through the curving walls and low ceiling and turning off to find nutrients further into the soil banks each side then the tunnel would have been fatally buried years before. I tried not to think of those words 'fatally buried'. I trod carefully, selecting every foot step with care and changing weight from back foot to fore with a delicacy and poise any ballerina would be proud of. My hands held out touching each side wall to support me but not putting any direct force outwards because every slight outcrop of soil touched fell away causing its neighbouring particles to follow and the newly exposed dirt to rush to fill in the cavity left in view. I knew a fall over one of the snaking roots covering the undulating floor could be my last false move.

  The further along the corridor I tentatively travelled the warmer the air became, it was dry smelling of leaf mould and gently decomposing wood flowing full of fine dirt and dust which floated in the air as I disturbed what in my mind was centuries of stillness. Other than the painfully slow growth of well established root systems nothing had had any impact on the status quo here in aeons.

  As I walked along the tunnel with my head bowed low and back stooped to accommodate my frame within the reduced spaces the uneven passage created, I gathered as much information as I could. It was no good being scared, crying or panicking; I doubt any negative emotion would do me any good, unless I wanted to stay in a dark underground tomb for the rest of my life and a good number of years after that.

  Panic through continued claustrophobia was rising like a tidal pool so I stopped and thought. Thinking concentrates the mind and gives me time to breathe. O.K, what do I know?

  1 - It was dark, only the glow from my watch made traveling the path ahead difficult rather than impossible.

  2 - I was heading North following the path finders point.

  3 - There were roots growing through the tunnel, they did not look damaged or marked so they have grown through after the tunnel was excavated; and they looked ancient so the tunnel was old. There were no trees above or around the mound from the outside and as the roots look healthy I very much doubt I am geographically in the same place I was only moments ago. Some doors lead to neighbouring spaces, others lead to neighbouring times. So have I travelled to another place or time?

  4 - It’s dark and I hate the dark - luckily there are no spiders or any other signs of life, not even a worm sticking it's squidgy head out of the wall.

  So over all I don't know much. Especially if this is a GPS watch, why is it still working underground? My satnav doesn't like it if I have it too far back it the car or if something impenetrable is resting on it like a tissue fallen from the box.

  There is only one tunnel even if it does stretch out in two directions, so it must lead from one place to another. The question is from where and to where? And does walking in the opposite direction take me back to where I came from and home or will it take me away from where I want to be? How come it’s always me who ends up in places like this? I bet Xanthic is sat in a bar somewhere chatting up the barmaid or drinking expensive coffee in a domesticated American chain - I really hope those curses turned his dangly bits green!

  There were probably hundreds of other clues, tips or signs I have missed; A talented investigator would probably be able to state categorically where in the world we were because this particular shade and make up of soil only occurs on one small island during one specific time period blah, blah, blah: and from the air currents we are obviously heading towards something somewhere and to someone. Well, I guess if I keep going I'll find the answers the hard way.

  Time, when you are having fun flies, that's why it felt like I had been down here for hours. My hair was a mess, my nails hurt from the amount of dirt squatting below them and I had enough soil down my back and in my knickers to plant roses. But onwards I stepped edging closer to wherever my fate leads.

  20:45

  There, against all probability was a door; wooden with brass fixings and straps holding the rough wood planks together with crude hand crafted diamond headed thick nails. A sign, written worryingly in modern English, hung from a nail extruding from its hammered in position.

  Come in my Dear & please close the door behind you.

  With an invitation like that what can you do? If you answered panic then you must think like I do. How far back did the English language go? Obviously quite far, but didn't it have all 'Ye Olde' and squiggly bits throughout? Some of the old books were so badly written that even repeated words were spelled differently, but to have a clear, neat and correctly spelled English sentence on a sign and hanging on a piece of tightly knotted and clean string was deeply unsettling. I thought about knocking, after all it appears like someone - thing, was expecting me or if not me at least someone to be visiting; But the pounding strong thud emanating from my chest had probably already announced my presence.

  "Well Valentine, you're not going to go back so you had better get a grip of yourself and go forward." I said in a loud authoritative voice in the hope it would spur me on, it didn't but I went onwards anyway.

  Thursday 17th October 2063

  At last dear diary a chance to sit down and reflect on the last few days. Wow, what an experience. Three grandchildren on my own for a whole week while their Mum and Dad went away on business. I don't think my feet will forgive me for at least a month; but it was worth it to see their shining red faces and hear their angelic voices sing and call as they played, ran and enjoyed the countryside all around us. And the food, I must have put on a few stone in weight from all the extra baking and cooking we did together, cakes, buns, pizzas, crumbles, dumplings and a huge apple pie. Their little fingers caked with dough and laughing as they mixed, stirred and kneaded.

  It did the old house good to ring with the sound of children, for far too many years it’s been quiet and still throughout the halls and chambers with spiders and dust claiming the rooms so infrequently visited these days.

  There are toys and plates of half eaten cake around to remind me of my time with them, often feeling like labours on endless errands for drinks or bandages but each trial was a delight and although endless at
the time, now all are too soon over fleeting moments that I would happily exchange my life for to have again; but let me have five minutes for a cup of tea first.

  The tea was made in a thin and very fine china mug. Normally I have a big chipped mug with 'Nannna' stencilled around it made with eager and excited little hands where painting on letters was more fun than correct spelling, but for this task it works better in the traditional apparatus.

  Tea finished I turned the cup upside down on its saucer and said a rhyme learnt as a girl decades ago whilst turning the cup around three times. In reality neither of these actions were necessary but it gives an image when performed in front of people coming to me for answers and the actions do have a comforting effect.

  I turned the cup over and looked down at the patterns left by the tea leaves and threw the cup against the wall smashing it to fragments and eradicating the horrific message left within it. I cried, an uncontrollable sob escaping my normally joyful lips and my stomach ripped as I staggered to my mobile phone left on my dining room table. Through tears that blurred my vision I tried to read the over bright screen and shaking fingers, once so dexterous and nimble now struggling to connect with my desired locations for them but after a few false starts I keyed in the numbers and heard the phone ringing then pick up.

  "Hello, Mum?" said the familiar voice of Clara my only daughter. "Mum, is that you? Are you O.K?"

  "Yes, I'm fine. Just being silly in my old age and wanted to hear your voice." I said after swallowing back a lump in my throat.

  "Mum you're worrying me. If something is wrong you will tell me won't you?" she asked me with anxiety in her voice. Understandable I guess from how I was behaving with this call.

  "No, just had a fright and wanted to hear your voice. Is that the boys in the background?" I asked as I heard children's voices chatting away in the car.

  "Xander and Brice, Harry is fast asleep, you know what he's like in cars, can't

  keep his eyes open longer than the length of your drive. Look, Matt says he can turn the car around and come back if you want us too, we can cancel our other plans and spend some more time with you and extend out holidays from work."

  "No, no I don't want you to do that, I'll be O.K, just being silly. The quiet must have spooked me or something. Call me when you get home so I know you're safe. Big kisses to you all. Bye"

  "Bye Mum, take care."

  The phone rang off and with my stomach settled and my heart not trying to rip itself from its mooring and smash its way out through my ribs I began to settle. I must have made a mistake, it’s easy to do at my time of life. Just me getting old.

  There was a tap from the window, squirrels again, they pester me at all hours since I taught them to be unafraid and they come and play for their food. No time for them now and I walked with purpose back into the kitchen and from the old dresser I took down one of the two remaining china cups I had left for telling the future in. My hands still had a shake to them as I filled the very modern kettle with water and my leg tapped rapidly as I sat waiting for it to boil.

  I spooned leaves from the tea caddy into the strainer and then poured the steaming water. Milk added, more than I like to taste but the need to cool the mixture down to be drunk in a gulp rather than sipped was an imperative.

  Tea drunk, I turned the cup over and turned thrice as I recited the very familiar words very carefully so not a syllable was uttered incorrectly or mispronounced in anyway. I then hesitantly turned the cup back over and after silently giving a prayer above I turned my eyes to look into the slightly discoloured cup. Once again there was a very clear message, one that was almost an exact duplicate of its predecessor.

  All your family are dead, you are alone, I want you.

  *

  I kept my crystal ball in a small room upstairs, it’s where I take people who knock at the door and ask me about their mistakes, their futures or for help to make the decisions they feel they are not strong enough or don't have enough information to make themselves. It’s mostly show, but witchcraft relies on belief and the crystal ball will show me what I ask of it. The window tapped again and I cursed the squirrels for wanting to play for hazelnuts now of all times. I ascended the stairs, they creaked as I trod them and I fell into my séance room and ripped the purple cloth that covered my crystal ball from the table. I sat and tried to get a vision from the thing, passing my hands around it in arcs and flurries that usually remove the clouding and letting it show me what I need to see. There is a big difference in the words need and want, and the person asking had better be prepared to learn what it is they need and not necessarily what they want to hear; but the clouds would not lift, I passed my hands over the ball again more urgently but the opaque swirls would not lift.

  Tapping again, more constant and continuing, from the window up here now. I swore at the damn furry devils who everybody thought were sweet creatures as they visited me and watched them play, but they had mischief in their hearts and caused untold chaos as they ran around the house looking for hazelnuts or chestnuts, they also left foul 'leavings' that took days to scrub out of the carpets.

  "Will you leave me in peace you long tailed rats!" I shouted as I went to the window. I threw it open and rested my arms on the sill. There was nothing outside; my loud words or the speed of the window opening probably scared the timid creatures away. The cool Autumn air was very welcome against my face, it cooled my temper and gave me a calmness to continue my task of contacting my family. Maybe I will call them again and ask them to turn around and stay with me for a couple more days; I do still have a lot of food that will spoil as I'll never get around to eating it and I was planning on delivering it to all the old folk hereby who don't get a home cooked meal from one week to the next if I weren't around to do it for them. I'll always cook more though, can't let anyone go hungry when a good witch is nearby.

  I reached my right arm out and gripped the handle ready to pull the window closed. A strong hand shot out from below, clawed fingers curling around my wrist and with strength and speed that I could not react to, it pulled me bodily out into Autumn evening air.

  *

  "You've got to wake up."

  A voice. I barely heard it but the sharp pain that flashed across my cheek was more immediate in attracting my attention.

  "Come on you haven't got much time." the words made it through to my mind and thoughts of my lovely daughter and my oh so precious grandchildren being in danger and slipping away from me filled my every thought, I wanted to get to my phone and call them again. Must get to the phone.

  I was in my garden, how did I get here? Must have wandered out for some fresh air. Its getting late so I must get on, baking to do and something about the kids........but they have only just left. Getting old is a curse sometimes.

  "WAKE UP, you really have to open your eyes."

  My old bones ached and pain shot up my arm and I clutched it to my chest and my ears ached. I was so tired but I had something to do. What was it?

  I was brought to my knees by a pain in my shoulder and as I looked through squinting eyes I could see a ring of small blood stained welts appearing and then right by my ear I heard the words coming out of thin air.

  "Ouwww! What the hell, my teeth!." followed by a quiet whimper that hung in the evening air.

  I've been a witch for decades and voices in the air didn't worry me, but normally there was a root cause or reason so I thought. Thinking is a dying art and the gloss of the world tricks people into seeing what they want to see but there are things at the edge of sight or information so blatant and apparent and sitting so obviously it’s so easy to over look. So I looked and I thought.

  I am me, Valentine, mother and grandmother and useful member of the community and a Witch. This I know. The house is mine, the garden tendered by my loving husband until his time was called and he is buried under the apple orchard he cared for so much with a stone always surrounded by flowers to mark the spot. My eyes were drawn to the stone and there it was s
tanding like an anchor holding me to this spot and my memories. No wait, the orchard, it looks how it always looks, exactly how it always looks. How long have I been here? 35, 40 years and it was like this when we moved in with babe in arms, it looks like it now after years of care and cultivation. I looked closer the trees looked normal, but the branches seemed to all.....no wait, the trees seem to.....I got to my feet and did my best to run to the headstone of my beloved and much missed partner. I was there, almost instantly right beside the stone, all the flowers bright and scented much like they always were.

  "He's coming, wake up NOW!"

  Mother, grandmother and wife I maybe but Witch is in my bones and I opened my eyes. The trees this close were identical, the flowers were always fresh, the house always just the way I wanted it. When did I last lay flowers? When did I last need a plumber or builder to come to the house for repairs? In a building this big problems will arise.

  The pain, the voice, the .... A sinking feeling came over me like a weight pulling my insides to my knees. None of this was real, my poor babies are not mine, my life with my husband and all the good moments never happened and I mourned them, I even mourned the passing of my love, holding him in my arms as his last moments came and went and the last breath left his body. They were a part of me and as precious to me as the birth of my Clara and then when it was her turn to give birth to the boys, each one I was there holding her hand.