Saturday, November 18, 2017

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.322: Unquiet Graves



There are any number of disturbed graves in the hillside cemetary on Harlow Hill, the headstones of which have been subject to erosion and erasure, and thus rendered unreadable. 

Though nameless, the inhabitants of these cold and unwelcoming domiciles have not, it seems, always remained convinced of their deceased status - preferring instead (as has recently occured in relation to the prior occupant of the sepulchre shown above) to shuffle about the Horsingdon landscape, evidently with the intention of frightening the region's populace out of its wits. 

Whatever force or agency might be compelling these awful resurrections remains unknown  - as does any meaningful rationale informing these otherwise horrifying and seemingly mindless intrusions into the everyday lives of Horsingdon folk. Perhaps therein lies the truth of the matter: that there is no meaning or intention to be uncovered; that perhaps we inhabit a universe whose troublingly-inscrutable yet asinine disposition leads it to inflict unspeakable horror upon us for its own sake.

Friday, November 17, 2017

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.321: Spiritual Communion


Not the permanently veiled Miryam Boreham (of whom only one photograph is known to exist), but James Boreham - bedecked in ritual garb in preparation for a seance. Here Boreham is wearing a 'T'-shaped amulet, possibly in accordance with the obscure ceremonial requirements, established by the guardians of the Black Bowers, for rites involving communion with Those Who Wait (as well as other, less nameable, inhabitants of the Outside). One might, therefore, feel justified in speculating on the exact nature of who - or what - Boreham was preparing to enter into spiritual communication with on this particular occasion...

Thursday, November 16, 2017

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.320: Red Shift



A cluster of red-litten ghostlights photographed hovering above the northeast face of Horsingdon Hill - moments before they are lost to the depths of space in a sudden, coruscating blur of movement, leaving only a spectral redshift haze in their wake.

Any attempt to elicit meaning from these intrusions into our world is to either court madness, or to provoke a transition into an inhuman mode of being as the only possible means of encompassing such knowledge. As a consequence, the good folk of Horsingdon prefer to let such things alone.

Wednesday, November 15, 2017

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.319: Puppetry and Shadowplay



The grimy windows of this Ministry building on the outskirts of Trentford give the impression of its having been long abandoned; along with the boarded and padlocked entrance, and the many 'No Entry' signs plastered about its lower facade, one could be forgiven for assuming as much.

However, on the eve of certain festivals, crooked, shadowy shapes have been witnessed through the dirt-encrusted windows of the building's upper storeys; often these phantoms are described as moving awkwardly through its dilapidated environs, as if engaged in a some ungainly but highly-ritualised dance - like some darkly spectral projection from another world on to this of an unearthly puppetry: alien marionettes cavorting woodenly to the fitful manipulations and string-pulling of an equally-inscrutable but mindless puppet master.

Tuesday, November 14, 2017

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.318: Monolithic Magicks


A blocky concrete monolith, clearly of modern design, stands just inside barbed-wire fencing surrounding a Ministry of Defence site which the Ebury Way edges past just outside of Trentford. Other similar monoliths – some of which appear to be marked with curious sigils – are positioned within the area circumscribed by the barbed-wire fence such as to create a curious geometric pattern – one which those versed in certain esoteric traditions might associate with a fearful body of myth supposedly of prehuman provenance. The monoliths surround a squat, windowless bunker with a single, reinforced steel door, from which emanates the continuous low hum of whatever strange energies are contained within.

Monday, November 13, 2017

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.317: Fearless Vampire Killer


This is the only known photograph of Gareth Lester - Horsingdon's one and only self-styled vampire hunter who, in the early 1970s, was convinced that a blood-drinking entity was haunting the cemetary of St. Osmund's Church on Southcote Lane, having made its lair in some ancient crypt beneath the otherwise-deserted place of worship.

The above image was taken in the grounds of St. Osmund's - shortly after the Church of Starry Wisdom had vacated the premises, and on the eve of Lester's final (one might say terminal) vigil at that place: whatever Gareth Lester did happen to encounter within the grounds of the church on that fateful night, it was presumably resistant to both stake and cross - for in the morning, no sign was to be found of this fearless vampire killer, and he has neither been seen or heard from since.


Sunday, November 12, 2017

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.316: Strange Irradiations



Strange light smoulders from behind a blanket of grey cloud covering the Horsingdon firmament, from whence two glowing orbs of unknown origin irradiate the region's skyline with their eerie iridescence. No doubt the morning will be greeted in one or more households with the shocked revelation of an unaccountable disappearance, or a favourite pet found in a state of horrible mutilation, or worse: a family member discovered in the midst of some monstrous transformation.