My words are the words of an enlightened man. I gained my liberation after leaving my native Albion to follow in the footsteps of my maternal Uncle to India. Many years later, once the true, divine nature of us all had been realised, the Blessed Powers guided me back to the land of my birth. My awakened spirit was now sensitive to the ancient Gods of this land and these deities communed with me, as they communed with my uncle before me. They revealed a path to enlightenment that can be trod on these shores. In these teachings I set forth this path to spiritual awakening as revealed to me by the Gods of ancient Britain.
Whist travelling to the south-west of England, I stopped in the ancient city of Chester where I encountered a demonic presence. I confronted this spirit in the riverside Groves. The following morning I was conveyed downstream in a spectral boat, where I found the residual traces of the demon dragging a man into the water. I rescued the man by inviting and absorbing the demon into my own soul.
‘I thought you were Death,’ Mr Yardley said, once he had been resuscitated and the water expelled from his lungs.
I explained that in a manner of speaking I was, although it was the death of the ego and a subsequent freedom from all delusions which I offered rather than the cessation of life. I do concede that the image of my sage face, peering from the ghostly boat which bore me, would suggest an encounter of a supernatural kind.
After I had thrown him onto the river bank, I had myself collapsed from both physical and psychic exhaustion. I was aware that my encounters with the supernatural had impressed a stain upon my soul yet at that time I believed that identifying with the emptiness of the self and ridding myself of all ego, would allow the demonic to pass beyond my specific organism into the all-encompassing illumination where it would burn away like a moth in the flame.
When I looked up from my position on the riverbank, I noticed three, watching figures. The first was an unusually tall and slender man, more so even than my self, he was bearded and with his greying hair long at the back of his head and his style of dress, he looked like he was probably a motorcyclist. The second was younger, suspiciously young I later thought when I heard his claims to psychic ability; his fleece jacket hung open revealing his tattoos and chest piercings. The third and foremost member of the group was short and squat with eyes that bulged behind his glasses; clad in a body-warmer and wide-brimmed hat, he possessed a rather toad-like look.
They approached us and once Mr Yardley was resuscitated, and I helped to my feet, introductions were made. It transpired that despite watching Yardley nearly drown, then observing my embrace of the demon before dragging the man to shore, they were not engaged in a new form of perverse spectator sport – after all, it was not televised!
‘You came in answer to our call, or perhaps you were sent,’ the toad-like man, Parkin, said.
I pointed out my boat which had now drifted back into the river and would soon ride the current downstream, perhaps back to its resting place in the shallows beneath the willow, before briefly outlining the events of the previous hours. At one point, Parkin interjected, ‘the stone, you threw the stone!’
‘Yes, I bound the entity and threw it downstream where...’
Rather then heed my words further at this point the three men began a quietly heated conversation, from which I gathered that they were waiting for a demonic presence and one who would battle it.
‘If you were waiting for me and you were watching, why didn’t you pissing well help?’ I found myself demanding. Profanities are not a usual part of my speech, however I had spent much time on Merseyside and I was entitled to feel angry on Mr Yardley’s behalf; I had no doubt that the three of them would have left him to drown.
‘We are engaged in matters of the utmost importance, intervention in any mid-manifestation would seriously jeopardise our ability to combat the malign forces against which we are marshalled,’ Parking stated in a manner I considered to be fairly pompous.
‘Who are you gentlemen?’ I asked.
Parkin replied with no trace of irony or humility, ‘we are the Dead.’
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