Tuesday, July 02, 2019

Malign Frequencies: Further Transmissions from Horsingdon, No.112: Scream and Scream Again


Few people realise that Screaming Lord Sutch has long associations with Horsingdon and its surrounding environs, having long resided near Harlow. After sadly taking his own life in 1999, Sutch was buried in Pinner (a suburb of Harlow), where to this day his grave remains a site of pilgrimage for politically-disenfranchised, the dispossessed, the outsiders, and for all those who feel their interior life is fundamentally alien to the fabric of this world, such that that they are unable to countenance its nature.

A doyen of 1960s rock n roll sonic horror (whose early work was recorded by Joe Meek, no less), it is easy to understand what drew Screaming Lord Sutch to the area; as leader of the Monster Raving Loony Party, he was also, perhaps, the only politician in the entirety of British history who maintained any integrity whatsoever.

Monday, July 01, 2019

Malign Frequencies: Further Transmissions from Horsingdon, No.111: Voorish Domes


These curious domes can be spied from the Ebury Way at the point where, for a few hundred yards,  it runs parallel to the River Trent. Whilst the function or purpose of these curious structures is unclear, what is known is that they have been built upon acreage owned by the MoD since the 1950s. More speculative still have been those attempts to bind these odd buildings to local scraps of folklore: vague, and incomplete narratives which hint at this very same locale as the place where once ‘Voorish Domes’ had been been raised, and about which certain primordial rites - referred to only as ‘The Scarlet Ceremonies’ in those deficiently fragmentary fables - were once performed...

Saturday, June 01, 2019

Malign Frequencies: Further Transmssions from Horsingdon, No.110: The Ancient Track (Redux)



Partially tracing the contour of the base of Horsingdon Hill, this neolithic track meanders its way northward, edging past the ancient ritual site of Harlow Hill toward Trentford.

Even up until the early years of the Twentieth Century, travellers along this archaic path would regularly recount strange tales concerning the spectral manifestations - and other, less comprehensible, praeternatural disclosures - which would be vouchsafed to them during their journeyings, producing rich and diverse folkways of the phantasmagorical and the supernatural.

Whilst the parish of Horsingdon continues to be afflicted by intrusions both monstrous and otherworldly, there is a definite sense (at least amongst the older inhabitants of the region) that these have increasingly affected a more secular, technologised cast - that the old tales of the uncanny have given way to a new kind of industrialised modernist weird. 

Now the only ghosts haunting these ancient tracks are, it seems the memorialised folk-spectres of their own imagined past.

Wednesday, May 15, 2019

Malign Frequencies - Further Transmissions from Horsingdon, No.109: The Lost Tower


The Lost Tower stands somewhere within an industrial estate out on the northerly edgelands of Horsingdon. Many photographs exist of the structure, all of which depict its rising up from behind other buildings and warehouses - but never its base or foundation; indeed, no one has yet been able to find or verify its actual location within the dilapidated industrial estate. And some of those who have gone in search of it have never returned.

Malign Frequencies - Further Transmissions from Horsingdon No.108: Haunted Portakabins


This makeshift office - a once-temporary structure forged from convenient portakabins, and which which long ago transitioned to a state of permanence - sits in the foreyard of one of Horsingdon’s haulage firms.

It has, however, sat empty for the last few years on account of it being haunted.

No one is quite sure what is doing the haunting, or indeed how this spectral state of affairs came into being; nonetheless, speculation has been rife amongst the drivers (none of which seem to remain at the firm for longer than a few months) that something may have secretly hitched a lift on one of their lorries: something unnatural, which most likely crept or crawled from within one of the curious Ministry sites the drivers occasionally pass whilst out on their deliveries.