The Horsingdon Transmissions No.273: Headless, Handless Ghosts

A disused railway track runs across the Ebury Way, leaving in its wake a tunnel with an ominous reputation. Apparently an ancient neolithic mound or sacred site once overlooked the Ebury Way at this locale, but was disturbed and ultimately destroyed as a consequence of the building of the railway, with some of its stones being repurposed towards the construction of the bridge. 

Ever since, there have been reports of the inexplicable disappearance of wayward travellers last seen traversing the tunnel on the eve of certain festivals - as well as disturbing accounts of strange, headless and handless phantasms haunting the black, nitrous depths of its sinister underpass

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.272: A Dome Upon A Nameless Hill

One of the more curious of Horsingdon's structures lies on the outskirts of suburban modernity, sitting on a flat, scree-strewn hilltop not far from the Ebury Way, and overlooking a flooded gravel pit at the boundary between Horsingdon and Trentford. Had the BBC been given access to the area in the 1970s, they would have almost certainly used it as a location for Doctor Who - or one of the drearily dystopian dramas which were a common denominator in the Cold War-inflected mediascapes of the period.

The entire area is surrounded by barbed metal railings, with 'Keep Out' signs in loud red lettering posted at regular intervals. Rather unnervingly, the railings circumvent the area completely, with no gate visible anywhere along its bounds. Unless there is some other, hidden mode of ingress, it seems that whoever constructed the railings did so with the intention of sealing off the site forever. Perhaps this is for the best, for the area is permeated with an aura of utter, unremitting desolation, which appears to have as its locus the strange white dome which rests upon a nameless hill.

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.271: Phantasmal Forces

Small transmitter arrays have begun to appear in unlikely, out-of-the-way places throughout Horsingdon. Whether this is a less than subtle attempt by some unknown agency to colonise the region's airwaves remains to be seen. What is evident, however, is the sudden spate of reports concerning manifestations of strange apparitions and phantasmal lights in and around the areas where these curious little arrays have been discovered.

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.270: Waterworm

This crumbling canalside property has been the locus of one of Horsingdon’s enduring cryptozoological mysteries, involving a great slimy eel- or worm-like creature said to have slithered out of the canal to make it’s lair in the clammy bowels of the decrepit building.

Whilst there have been numerous reports of sightings of the beast over the last century, no material evidence of its habitation of the ruin has yet been uncovered. This has led some researchers interested in the case to surmise that the creature may have a praeternatural rather that physical origin – an explanation which has gained some traction in recent years, subsequent to the revelation that the building once formed part of a factory owned by James Boreham - one in whose basement he is known to have performed occult rituals: the very site in which the monstrous worm is purported to have made its home.

In any case, there has been sonething of a resurgence of the location's former, fearful reputation due to recent sightings of the worm - sightings which have occured in conjunction with both a number of local people having unaccountably gone missing, and with the appearance of sinister sigils inscribed in red chalk on the cellar walls of the building.

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.269: Strange Black Stars

A photograph of the first sunset of Autumn also captures something unexpected in the skies above Horsingdon: two black stars, hanging aimlessly is space - negative pulsars shorn from some unknown sphere of being and drawn into ours for the briefest of moments, enlightening us with bursts of an irradiating darkness to the fact that we inhabit a universe that is forever haunted by strange and inconceivable forces.

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.268: The Dragon Beneath the Mound

Northala Mound is a neolithic site at the edge of the borough of Horsingdon. It is alluded to in the Domesday Book, where the locale is referred to as a place best shunned by lawful, God-fearing folk; certainly its reputation as a locus of sinister forces has continued to the present day: not only do tales of strange lights, mysterious disappearances, and frightful apparitions cluster about the place, but there also exists a body of folklore referring to 'The Dragon Beneath the Mound' who, it is averred, will one day  rise from some unknown gulf deep below the ancient tumulus to shake the world to its foundations.

The guardians of the Black Bowers retain a continual (though secret) watch on the place - for they believe that such fanciful tales conceal a more terrifying truth: that the Mound conceals a portal to a dead world wherein slumbers one of Those Who Wait; that when the stars reach their proper alignment, the gateway to this world will be thrown open; that this monstrous sleeper will awaken, thence to rise and stride forth to consume the world.

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.267: The Grand Junction Arms

This canalside Georgian townhouse - converted into a pub in the 1950s - once belonged to James Boreham. The small attic room visible in the photograph above is purportedly haunted by some kind of shapeless apparition which has supposedly sent one witness to its manifestation hopelessly insane, whilst causing another unfortunate to jump to their death on being confronted by the thing. There are rumours of something dredged from the canal by Boreham in the late 1890s, and locked in the attic - presumably the psychic residue of which continues to haunt the room to this day.

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.266: Malignant Waveforms

A row of four transmitter arrays stretch across the horizon, broadcasting strange signals across the Horsingdon landscape, blanketing it with the distorted drone of uncanny audio waveforms which squirm and writhe through the airwaves like aberrant aural organisms filled with malign agency.

The plastic casings of portable radios bubble and blister in the vicinity of these towers, and the dreams of nearby residents are haunted by the sounds of alien chords and monstrous notes - chords and notes whose reverberations threaten to disturb and call forth the nameless, slumbering inhabitants of those unplumbed zones of inconceivable horror which they nightly unlock.

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.265: A Monstrous Repository

A newly-constructed windowless warehouse has appeared aside the towpath of the Grand Union Canal, where it passes through Horsingdon: the thrum of hidden machinery emanates from somewhere nearby, filling the air with a strange metallic tang; sinister figures, dressed in black paramilitary fatigues and wearing gas masks, are said to patrol its grounds at night, their passage lit by the migraine-inducing actinic glow of numerous spotlights; time seems to distort around here, whilst language unaccountably reassembles into incomprehensible alien syllables which cut the air.

And from within, the sound of something vast shifting fitfully in its aeon-long, deathless slumber.

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.264: The Black Tower

This immense transmitter array overlooks a virtually deserted industrial estate in the desolate hinterland between Horsingdon and Trentford. Meteorogical conditions  - aided, no doubt, by the astringent chemical pollutants spewed out from nearby factories - have had a curious effect on the structure, causing its steel beams to take on an oily, blackish sheen.

The Black Tower prevails regardless, mindlessly transmitting its droning, monotonous signal throughout the landscape, and into the unreverberate blackness of the abyss.

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.263: The Round Tower

The tower on the side of this building was the site of James Boreham's occult laboratory in the days leading up to his disappearance. Today the tower remains empty: an attempt to renovate the interior as office space met with resounding failure as the various ventures which rented the space quickly went out of business, or moved to other premises after only a few short months.

Many who have visited the place since Boreham's passing have described being stricken by a profoundly vacuous despondency within its confines; whilst there have been no reported apparitions or spectral manifestation within the tower, it reeks of stretched, dessicated time and malign desolation - a space weighted with the unbearable psychic pressure of an utter isolation and remoteness which threatens to diminish and ultimately extinguish the consciousness of those who ccupy it.

Thus does Horsingdon's past continue to haunt its present - and presage its terminal future.

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.262: Horsingdon Lights

Four strange lights descend in formation, flanked by a larger pulsating orb, behind the rooftops of houses which stand at the edge of Horsingdon Woods. Such displays are familar to the folk who live around Horsindon Hill and its neighbouring wood and, whilst old tales speak of how the frequency of manifestation of these 'Horsingdon Lights' typically increases during times of uncertainty - or when great danger threatens - which of us can truly say we have ever lived in times when it was not always so?

In any case, for the people of Horsingdon, apocalypse has always lurked just a whisper away: in the monstrous aftermath of devilish folk like James Boreham; in the horrific conjurations of the guardians of the Black Bowers; and in the fearful things which haunt wood and hill on nights when the Horsingdon Lights are seen descending.

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.261: Witchnails and Stolen Shadows

There is an old piece of Horsingdon lore concerning 'Witchnails': ritual artefacts supposedly crafted from the fingerbones of hanged witches, and once used by members of the Horsingdon Coven to 'steal the shadow' of those who had offended them either in word or deed. The Witchbones would typically be employed aetherically to 'pin' the unsuspecting victim's shadow to that terrible, praeternatural otherwold which is the habitation of Those Who Wait - following which the miscreant's dreams would forevermore be haunted by monstrous portents and malign visions, eventually driving them to madness and death.

It is also said that the guardians of the Black Bowers wilfully undergo this ordeal as an iniatory rite of passage, with only those possessing force of will to assimilate the nightly visions of horror without allowing their sanity to crumble entirely being formally inducted into that strange and recondite order. Needless to say, knowledgeable as they are in the use of Witchbones, few are willing to anger or antagonise the guardians of the Black Bowers.

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.260: Found Footage

This photograph was supposedly retrieved from a digital camera discovered in Horsingdon Wood. Apparently it was wrapped in some kind of parchment tied with catgut - the parchment itself inscribed with symbols drawn from some alien or unknown system of signification. This strange bundle was recovered from an area of the woods which has long historical associations with the Horsingdon Coven. The owner of the camera has yet to be identified.

Most who have seen the image consider it to be nothing more than a monstrous hoax; others amongst the older residents of the region - having witnessed many strange and unaccountable things in their time - are more circumspect about the matter.

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.259: Dark Skies

Ominously dark clouds gather in the skies above this transmitter array located atop a Ministry building situated near an industrial park on the boundary of Horsingdon and Trentford. Unusual meteorological phenomena seem to clyster about these sights where the silent distort of alien signals rip the atmosphere and rend the fabric of reality. At night, strange lights can be seen flickering behind the black and pendulous clouds, and the smell of ozone falls to damp earth and wet concrete as something new and terrible bores a tunnel through unseen dimensions in an attempt to birth itself into our world.

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.258: Nightfolk

For tne most part, the people of Horsingdon dwell in the relative safety and calm of the daylight hours - regardless of how transient those things may truly be: for they know all too well of the terrors that stalk the region's nighted landscape.

Then there are the Nightfolk: those who make the darkness their habitation, and in doing so renounce the last tattered remnants of their humanity.

Yet for all that, the darkness is undying - such that all who make their home in Horsingdon are in some degree kin to those forlorn and inscrutable Nightfolk.

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.257: The Secret Stairway

Strolling along one of the more gentle inclines to the top of Burn Hill, one easily discover this cracked and crooked stone stairway- considered by many to be immeasurably ancient. Over the years it has acquired a curious local nomenclature: the Secret Stairway. Many legends cluster about the place, although a typically recurrent one concerns local inhabitants witnessing a line of figures - all robed and hooded - climbing the stairway toward the hilltop at twilight; according to this particular tale, the locals, intrigued by this remarkable scene and suspecting witchcraft, follow the curiously-clad interlopers from a short distance behind. On arriving at the crown of Burn Hill, they are surprised to discover it vacant and desolate, with no sign of the strange figures whose footsteps they had so recently shadowed.

Such tales have encouraged the belief that, whilst the stairway does indeed facilitate a transition between places high and low, its true destinations are neither the base nor the crown of Burn Hill; rather, it is the case that the stairway marks a point of interpenetration, such that the zones it ultimately ascends and descends to are not to be located on any map scribed by human hand.

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.256: Witchstones

The remnants of an ancient circle of stones in Horsingdon Woods. Known locally as 'witchstones', whatever the original purpose of these squat paeleolithic structures, they continued to be used by the Horsingdon Coven at least until the insidiously destructive witch-hunts which swept through the region until the latter part of the 17th Century;indeed, there are those who claim that the inheritors of the Coven continue to make use of these ritual sites into the present day.

The circles, it is believed, are arranged about nodal ponts of suppurating praeternatural power within the landscape, which the guardians of the Black Bowers (who also allegedly make use of these sites) claim can be mobilised as portals to those ineffable abysses which form the habitation of Those Who Wait - as well as to other unnameable and nightmarish zones.

Needless to say, the recent history of the witchstones is clustered about with many uncanny circumstances, inexplicable disappearances, monstrous apparitions, and unexplained deaths; as such they are best avoided by casual sightseers to the region.

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.255: Ghostlights

An amorphous glowing globule hovers above discarded machinery left in an abandoned access tunnel below Eastcote Station - not far from the Haunted Archway. Encounters with such phenomena - often refered to as 'ghostlights' after fragments of regional folklore in which similar lights appear as the souls of the unquiet dead - are not uncommon amongst the urban explorers and psychogeographers who seek to map those unseen territories which lurk just beneath the surface of Horsingdon's exoteric topography. And sometimes such explorers disappear in mysterious and disconcerting circumstances - often in or about locales where these luminescent entities are said to cluster.

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.254: Witchwalk Bridge

Witchwalk Bridge, which crosses Horsingdon Brook at the base of Horsingdon Hill, has long been a focal point of paranormal activity in the area: specifically, there have been regular reports of spectral presences - such as the strange, hooded figure in the above photograph - encountered on and around the bridge. Whilst the current edifice dates from the mid-19th Century, records of a wooden bridge crossing the brook at the same location date back to the late 17th Century. Those records also note the presence of a small hovel near the bridge, inhabited by one Jemimah Mason - an elderly woman suspected of being a member of the Horsingdon Coven and who, according to the region's folklore, was often seen to be accompanied in her wanderings by a familiar which took the form of a particularly large and noisome black rat, going by the name of 'Black Owen'.

Unsurprisingly, widespread suspicions concerning Jemimah Mason's probable involvement in witchcraft drew the eye of Deliverance Fowler - one of Horsingdon's itinerant witch hunters. However, before Fowler was able to bring Mason to trial to bring her to trial, she was seen - cloaked and hooded - crossing the bridge over Horsingdon Brook, with Black Owen scuttling at her heels. Apparently Mason was muttering something under her breath and tracing curious signs in the air before suddenly disappearing - with her familiar in tow- as she reached the mid-point of the bridge.

Since that time, there have been regular reports of a spectral, hooded figure - often accompanied by a much smaller, glowing orb (not unlike the one which appears towards the middle, left-hand edge of the photograph above). Whilst some have claimed that these are the ghosts of Jemimah Mason and Black Owen returning to haunt the present for their unfair persecution in the past, there are no records of her (or her familiar, for that matter) being brought to trial for practising witchcraft. Indeed, as per the above account, it appears to be the case that both Jemimah Mason and her accompanying rodent disappeared suddenly, and under highly mysterious circumstances.

If one compares accounts of the spectral phenomena which have appeared on the bridge over the decades, it seems that in recent years there has been a notably tendency amongst witnesses to describe their experiences in much greater detail - almost as if whatever does lurk about the bridge is on the cusp of returning itself to a more concrete - perhaps material - form. This has led to some of the region's more knowledeable students of occult matters to speculate that perhaps Mason and Black Owen's disappearance was due to their transitioning to another realm of being entirely - perhaps uncoupling themselves from time and space via the application of the same 'strange witcheries' mentioned in yesterday's post. And if Jemimah Fowler and Black Owen are on the cusp of returning to our world, one cannot help but wonder as to what kind of monstrous transformations might have afflicted them during their sojourn within the vast and unnammeable Outside...

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.253: Strange Witchery

Taken from J.L. Bellingham's newsletter The Horsingdon Paranormal News - which was circulated amongst Forteans and would-be paranormal investigators in the late 1960s - this curious image purports to depict some of the members of the Horsingdon Coven as it existed at the time. The short article - submitted anonymously to the newsletter - accompanying the photograph notes that the Coven participated in 'a strange kind of witchery, wholly unlike anything which the current author has encountered during three decades of research into the history of witchcraft and satanism within the British Isles'. Speculation abounds as to the identity of the anonymous author of this piece, which some believe to have been Roland Franklyn (who, it has been subsequently claimed, is one of the robed and hooded figures depicted in this now-infamous photograph).

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.252: Containment Facilities

Scattered throughout the region - invariably in the more isolated, out-of-the-way places - sit windowless, concrete bunker-like structures. Most of these heavily fortified sites were constructed at the behest of the Ministry of Defence during the 1970s, and are referred too in what little documentation is publicly available concerning them as lead-lined 'containment facilities'. Whilst there is some speculation that these are silos meant for storing nuclear waste, other rumours suggest the sinister-looking installations serve to contain even worse threats: threats which exist outside the  spectrum of human conception to which we have become habituated; threats whose very existence jeopardises the fundamental structure of reality; threats from worlds wholly-other than our own.

The Horsingdon Transmission No.251: Experiments in Sound

This is a partial image of a photograph which was recently discovered amongst some classified files which had accidentally found their way into the public archives of Horsingdon Borough Council. The files and the photograph were quickly removed from the publicly-accesible section of the repository almost as soon as the mistake was discovered - but not before this photograph was taken. Apparently the files themselves included information pertaining to curious sonic experiments conducted on Horsingdon Hill by members of Northwich Polytechnic's Department of Radiophonics in the early 1960s - experiments conducted on behalf of the Ministry of Defence.

The individual who stumbled over the files only had a short time to examine them prior to the archivist demanding their return, but noted accounts of two researchers - including one member of the team who is partially pictured above - disappearing mysteriously in the vicinity of Horsingdon Hill whilst conducting the experiments. Some say that these two unfortunates were taken by whatever power lurks within the Hill as payment for being woken by said interlopers from whatever inconceivable dreams haunted its endless slumber...

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.250: From Witchlore to Cold War

A remnant of the Cold War on a small hillock close to Burn Hill - supposedly the entry point to a more extensive underground Ministry of Defense complex. All such entry points have been sealed with lead-lined casings and concreted over in the aftermath of an event which occured in the late 1970s, of which no public records remain. Whilst the land is now accessible to the public, this is an area rarely frequented by the locals on account of what has been heard at night emanating from these sealed portals - and on account of the long history of witchlore associated with the locale. Whether these two seemingly disparate matters are related is unclear - but it is curious that many of the government installations which dot the region appear to align so precisely with the arcane topography and folkloric psychogeomorphology of the lsndscape hearabouts.

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.249: The Nameless Church

This overgrown church at the edge of Horsingdon Wood is believed to be one of the oldest buildings in the region: parts of its structure date back to the 13th Century, whilst the walls contain tiles and brickwork from even older Romano-British buildings. Despite the fact that it has been deconsecrated and has been stripped of its previous name - St. Edmunds - the church is still in use by a curious sect said to be an heterodox offshoot of the Romanian Orthodox Church: certainly faint chanting has been heard coming from the building at various times, and curious lights have been reported in the vicinity of this now nameless place of worship.

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.248: The Haunted Archway

Beneath Eastcote Station stands this seemingly innocuous archway - providing access between the tracks and platforms for maintenance staff. However, strange rumours cluster about the archway, including reports of a shadowy figure seen standing within its recess, only to suddenly disappear seconds later, and of workers experiencing an almost praeternatural chill on passing through the aperture - as well as a sudden feeling of disorientation and vertigo, as if one is standing upon the brink of some vast and nameless abyss.

There seems to be no reason for the archway's haunted character - although some claim that it is a gateway which has somewhow bored through to the 'Secret Alleys' which are the haunt of the Shanklin Man, and which are also said to constitute some kind of invisible realm or zone which runs parallel to or interpenetrate's the arcane topographies of the region. But as to exactly what it is or where it leads to - that is one mystery which the people of Horsingdon are in no hurry to solve.

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.247: Tracking Stations

Yet another monolithc Ministry installation, not far from Trentford and the Ebury Way - this time sporting one of the famed 'golfball' radar arrays found at sites like RAF Menwith and RAF Fylingdales - both products of the apocalyptic paranoia of the Cold War, and both suffused with rumour of inhuman and praeternatural presences haunting their respective locales.

The above building was apparently tasked with tracking unidentifiable aerial phenomena - ostensibly as a safeguard against a surprise Soviet attack; other accounts tell a different story: one which involves the marshalling of forbidden, occult mathematics and alien ritual technologies to penetrate the membrane between worlds, at a point where it was demed to be especially worn and thin, with a view to weaponising those unspeakable forces and incomprehensible physics which lurk beneath the visible surface of things. That so many of the Ministry buildings in the region - superficially empty and untenanted - remain haunted by the silent, abject ghosts of technichians, scientists and administrators now condemned forever to wander the numinously hollow shells of these installations in a perpetual state of awestruck horror, speaks to both the horrifying success and awful failure of such a monstrous project.

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.246: Luminescent Insignificata

Four strange lights manifest above the treetops of Horsingdon Hill - and by the morning another of the resident from the local to the area will have bern reported missing: perhaps a dog-walker who stayed out just a little too late, or an errant rambler who took the wrong path through the woods to satify their curiosity regarding strange chanting heard from a nearby clearing. There is good reason why even the police avoid entering the locale at night - especially on the eve of certain festivals - unless utmost necessity complels them.

And those who have survived an encounter with whatever forces lurk within and about the Hill invariably refuse to speak of what they have witnessed - perhaps because human language is too poor a tool of signification to articulate that which transcends the linear reasoning of moderately sapient hominins.

Thus, when confronted by the devestating insignificance which an encounter with these praeternaturally luminescent phenomena and all that they infer, the people of Horsingdon typically do the only thing they can: turn their faces away from the deadly light of revelation, and pretend that all is right with the world.

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.245: Crossroad Signals

This transmitter array was recently erected at the crossroads formed by Eastcote Lane and Bridgewater Road, marking the border between the boroughs of Horsingdon and Harlow. Indeed, the lore of crossroads holds that they have often been used as boundary markers, delineating the edges of the human, social world at the points where it edges upon and begins to bleeds into wilderness and the domain of the non-human.

Anthropologists Maurice Bloch and Jonathan Parry argue that most human cultures symbolically reconfigure death as a regenerative process, through mortuary practices and funerary rites which present the endings of life as a transition into a new kind of existence - thus ensuring the renewal and continuity of society (and the social order as a whole) in face of human mortality. Criminals were often buried at crossroads, inferring both a temporal and spiritual banishment from the social world into the cosmic wilderness of the Outside: a realm which is without law or reason.

One cannot help wonder, then, what signals might be transmitted or received at such a space of transgression and transition - and to what sinister purpose?

The Horsingdon Transmissions No.244: Eastcote Cemetery

There have been no burials in the ancient Eastcote Cemetery (located a short distance from Horsingdon Hill) in over a century, largely on account of of the inexplicable disinternments of then recently-buried corpses reported there at the turn of the 20th century - and the partially-gnawed condition in which the corpses were discovered in the aftermath of these monstrous exhumations, sprawled ignobly a short distance from their disturbed graves.

Even today, there are rumours of loping figures seen running between the gravestones at the dead of night; there are even older rumours of tunnels burrowed deep below the cemetary, supposedly leading to some of the properties of the Boreham family, as well as to certain ritual sites once used by the Horsingdon Coven.