The underpass where the A40 (better known to the suburbanites inhabiting the Westerly edges of Greater London as The Western Avenue) intersects with North Horsingdon Lane. Much like the subject of yesterday’s post, this locale also has a history of inexplicable disappearances.
Some say the underpass stands upon a point within the region’s praeternatural topography which was once sacred to either the Horsingdon Coven, or to the Folk of the Black Bowers (or perhaps both): a space wherein Those Who Wait were once conjured forth from the inaccesible, timeless gulfs which form their habitation, and made manifest - if only for a short time - in all their tangible awfulness. If true, the ancient rites enacted in this place - and the monstrous embodiments consummated by them - will have surely left a profound psychic wound upon the landscape: one which might, on an especially auspicious night, draw an unwary traveller through its yawning, hungering maw to some inconceivably remote and unknowable realm...
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