A Medium Evening - A Monologue from the 'Other Side'

_{Have you ever been: or are you going to, a Spiritual evening. If so perhaps this is how it may seem:}

_{"Good evening, everyone ! My name is Danny and tonight, assisted by with my spirit guide, Jonny - we will attempt to contact those who have passed on, through the ethereal veil.” The medium will appear surprisingly 'down to earth' - unless of course they hail from across the Atlantic, and will constantly keep moving across the stage.} 

_{"Now, during the course of the interchanges, please keep any of your responses to just, 'Yes' or 'No'. Anything else will just confuse everything – particularly me , thank you !”}

_{"I'm sensing a dark matter... the black arts maybe, no wait – it's BLACK magic – does anyone have a connection with Black Magic ? Anyone at all ? No ! Anyone practice Black Magic ? No-one, o.k. What about confectionery, who likes Black Magic chocolates ? NOBODY, eh, not even a box of ROSES ! Alright let's just put that to one side for now, we might come back to that, later.”}

_{" I have someone in the room now, a person that comes up to about here on me – just under my shoulder – maybe a bit taller, I think their standing on a box – I feel I should be looking at this section of the audience – does that make sense to you, sir ?”}

_{"Yes, you sir ! The gentleman sitting on the end of the aisle, I'm TALKING to you, sir - but I'm LOOKING at the woman next to you .”}

_{“ Yes, I know it's very confusing, but honestly I'm just hedging my options, this way I have a 50-50 chance to connect with someone, but I'm prepared to go to}

_{' phone a friend ' If I have to !”}

_{"I'm seeing medals, a row of medals. A military person, probably in the services – does that make that sense to you, sir ?”}

_{“ He's trying to say something, ' Spit an' polish them up' can you understand that ?”}

_{"I'm getting a sense of something else, he's saying, ' Don't take them to the bloody Antiques Roadshow and try to flog 'em, you little git ! does that mean anything to you, sir ?”
" Still nothing ? You're not being very helpful, sir ! Alright,} the energy is slipping now, so just take that with you for now, and we may come back to it later, thank you !”
_{" No, I'm afraid that's not an ethereal cloud enveloping you lady, it's just the vapour from my assistants} e-cigarette ! TODD ! I told you NOT to light one up in 'ere while I'm working !"

_{"Okay, my spirit guide is approaching me 
– stop doing that, it's a disgusting habit -and he's bringing on an older person. If I said they were a loud person, but had their quiet moments, do you understand, Miss ?”}

_{"Please, Miss, just confine your answers to' yes' or 'no', otherwise you'll interfere with the spirits, and I won't be able to make broad, sweeping premonitions.”}

_{"Someone, either alive or dead, possibly a friend or family member, or even a friend of a family member, who's not very well, does that make sense to you ?”}

_{"No ! How about seriously ill ? Still nothing, hmmm, well, what about critically ill ?”}

_{"Nothing ! Nobody at all, eh ! RIGHT. DEAD ! THEIR DEAD THEN ! Passed -over, no longer of this mortal coil, does that make sense to you, Miss ?”}

_{" There's too much negativity in the room tonight. The energy is slipping away now, so please just take that away with you, maybe it might all be clear in the future. Go with love for now, thank you.”} 

This has been an affectionate account of my own personal experience.

Whatever you believe, I say go with an open mind, embrace it, and enjoy an alternative night out.

After all, it has to be better, than just staying in and watching Eastenders or football.

  lifeandfunnies.blogspot,com

Midwinter Mysteriy Series - The Town of No Return - Chapter Five

_{The Town of No Return – Chapter Five}

_{'The Town that Never Was'} 

_{John stepped out from the darkness, a shadow of his former self, gone the assured, well dressed man-about-town, now there was only a mud infused heavily abused and generally altogether broken citizen. He stood - swaying slightly with exhaustion – on the brow of a hill looking over Mistry. From this vantage point he surveyed the quiet semi-slumbering little village} taking stock of escape routes and noteworthy landmarks, consciously staying just beyond the reach of it's gas fueled street lamps – a feature he found of peculiar interest – while plotting out his next move. Was this seemingly 'lost' Mistry, really responsible for the mysterious and unaccountable lack of contact with the rest of the world ? What lay in wait for him, would he be met with open arms or closed minds ? More importantly just how long would he have to be stationed here, in order to 'redeem' his reputation and prove himself fit – both physically and mentally - for active duty once more ?

_{Somehow, he had miraculously managed to survive the recent trial and tribulations of his nightmarish ride on the wild side - with only the minimal of interruption from the unseen forces of collision and absurdity. His weary body and even more wary state of mind were close to collapse. He had parted company with Lucky - the wonder horse - and it's distressed driver a couple of hours earlier, after deciding it more expedient and safer, on a personal level, if he walked the remaining miles back to Mistry under his own steam.}

Channeling _{the final reserves of strength, John inhaled deeply through gritted teeth, drew himself up, shoulders back, chest out and stomach in. Accepting his predicament with a steely resolution he proceeded with the mission, slowly descending from the hillside with mixed feelings of relief and apprehension.}

_{The center of the village consisted of all the usual stalwarts of rural life, post office, general store, library, church and at least one public house ( a beacon of light and hope in any community ) and by all accounts there should also be lurking somewhere within it's vicinity .... one police station. In the very heart of this tableau a large imposing and sinister looking tree stood guard, it's base wreathed by a warped and well worn bench. John crossed the dimly lit cobbled square, passing several lifeless houses on his set course towards the local tavern – possibly the scene of an unlawful assembly, given that it was long since closing time – it's weather beaten signboard, swinging and creaking from a post in the bleak freezing night air, heralding} ' The Crow Inn ' and adorned with a painting of one such glossy feathered scavenger, resting on the arm of a sorrowful looking scarecrow.

_{He approached the doorway and without even pausing to look through it's small bottle glass window, pressed down on the latch, pushed open the stiff old door and stepped inside.}

_{For the first time since arriving in this back-water stretch of the Cornish coast he felt the existence of a possible civilized society operating within it's borders.}

   _{The large inglenook stone fireplace, with it's deep wrought iron grate - framed on both sides by two small wooden barrels resting upon one another - was host to a roaring welcoming fire offering resistance to the cold night air outside, whilst creating a relaxing and convivial atmosphere to the small band of denizens contained within its darkly polished half paneled walls. Most of whom fell into two categories, those who stopped talking and turned to look at the new 'intruder' and those who seemingly disregarded his entrance, choosing to surreptitiously acknowledge the fact themselves. John started to move his way through the hazy cloud of pipe smoke and ' Old Shag ' roll-up cigarettes, with their heady distinctive mix of strong, sweet woody aromas. He carefully avoided eye-contact at this juncture, for fear it might it might encourage an outbreak of small-talk, which at present he was unavailable for comment – his ever tiring state and growling stomach being his prime concern.}

_{Reaching the bar he sidled through a small opening in the congregated mass of bodies attached to it's side like barnacles. Once in-situ – while waiting to be served - he took the opportunity to take in the rest of his surroundings, the thick oak beams and rafters - decorated with an array of pewter mugs - the bare saw-dusted floor boards and a glass encased snowy owl, all indicated to him that it was a public house of considerable repute and long history.} 

_{"You cut it really close, Mister ! Another few minutes and I would've had to lock the door,” came a warm full bodied female voice from over the counter.}

_{"I take it, that you're the V.L.P we were told to expect,” it continued.}

_{John turned back towards the bar to address the claim, finding himself facing a pretty, middle-aged auburn haired woman, with a figure that was more than a match for the way she spoke. “ I think you'll find that's supposed to be a 'V.I.P' ” he corrected her.}

_{"No, I'm right. V.L.P. Very Lost Policeman !” she responded, the small lines around her soft green eyes, deepened slightly threatening a smile.}

_{"How can I be 'lost', when this is where I'm supposed to be ? ” he reasoned despite his degenerative state.}

_{"If you're here, then trust me - you're LOST ! This place isn't exactly well marked on the map,” she moved closer to the counter, wiping it over with an old bar towel cleaning up any excessive spillage.}

_{John finished unbuttoning his heavily damp overcoat and began to flap it around to encourage the warmer clime to circulate the rest of his body.}

_{"You don't say !” he said somewhat sarcastically. “ Look, I know it's late, but I'm starving. Is there any chance that you could rustle up something for me to eat ? I'd really appreciate it.”}

_{"Well, there might be a cold pastie-under-glass, hiding around here somewhere, from lunchtime... yesterday,” she offered feint hope. “ But, I can't vouch for it's freshness mind you, or take any responsibility for it's actions !”}

_{"I fully accept your terms and conditions,” he said raising an open flat hand as if taking a solemn oath, smiling wryly through still frozen lips. “ Now, how about a drink ? What's good on tap around here ?” he asked, glancing along the bar at the small but impressive line-up of vintage ceramic and brass pump handles.}

_{"This one's quite popular with our regulars, “ she replied sagely, clasping one of the beer handles displaying signs of excessive wear and tear, and pulled it slowly steadily down releasing the amber liquid into an awaiting glass tankard. Slipping the heady ale across the bar to him she stood back and waited for his verdict.}

_{He held the glass up to the light, attempting to peer through it's murky consistency in a sedimental act. Then drank deeply from it, before realising that something wasn't quite right, “ Ugh ! What the --- is that ?" he exclaimed.} 
"It's ' Badger's Claw'” the barmaid replied.

_{"Is that it's name or what it's made of ?” he asked grimacing.}

_{"That's it's name ! Why, don't you like it ?”}

_{"Like it ? I can't believe you've a licence to serve it !” He held the glass back up to re-examine the evidence.}

_{"I thought you said this was 'popular' with your regulars, “ he recalled, placing the tankard back on the counter. “ FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE WHY ?” he asked in disbelief.} 

_{"Because, it's the ONLY BEER we serve ! There hasn't been any delivery from the brewery for months. So, the locals took it upon themselves to brew their own. I guess this..” she gestured towards the guilty pump,” ..is what you'd call their 'first draught'. It's not as bad as all that, if you consider the lack of materials they had to work with,” she defended, clearing a few 'dead' glasses from the bar.}

_{"I admit, it's an acquired taste, but don't worry, you'll get used to it – eventually. Along with not having any hot water or electric when you want it,” she continued, serving John the questionable pastie on a small plate with just a single knife for company.}

_{"I have no intention of 'getting used' to ANYTHING ...especially bad beer and poor public utilities ! Neither of which I would exactly call an endearing local feature,” he answered curtly.}

_{"Well, if you're not going to enter into the spirit of things, then you're going to find life a little bit ...lonely around here ! “}

_{"Don't worry about me, this is just a temporary position. I very much doubt if I shall be here for all that long” he said smugly, cutting into the pastie and carefully taking an exploratory bite. Grimacing once again, his body and taste buds rejecting the cold indigestible piece of pastry. He pushed the dish away from him in a final act of surrender,} 

_{“ Let me guess, 'BADGER Pie' !” he surmised.}

_{"Speaking of name calling..” she responded, disregarding his last remark,} "..just what, shall I call you ?”

_{"I'm Detective Inspector John Foxe !” came the formal introduction.}

_{"Ohhh, sorry ! But I'm a one name, kind of a gal !”}

_{"Well, I suppose you could call me, Inspector Foxe”}

_{"Good, JOHN, it is then ! I'm Wendy. Wendy Gale, and 'yes' I've heard all the jokes, thank you very much !” she held out a hand for the customary shake.}

_{John, nodded his head gently accepting the hand gesture. She turned away to tend to one of the bottle optics from the back wall then returned with a double single malt whisky and presented it to him, announcing “ I believe this warrants a welcoming toast, or something !”} 

_{To which he gratefully - without hesitation – accepted the token gesture of goodwill and drank it straight back.}

_{"What, no speech !” Wendy observed wryly.}

_{"Ahh...sorry ! But, I'm not really a speech kind of a guy !” he retorted. “ So, this village is it really...”}

_{"Charming ? “ Wendy interrupted.}

_{"No “}

_{"Peaceful ? “}

_{"No, DEAD ! I was told it's something of a 'ghost town' these days, is that true ?'” he queried.}

_{"That's unfair ! Yes, it can be quiet around here true enough, but you can't go around making a judgement like that – not at this time of night, anyway !” she countered.}

_{"Well, I'm pleased to hear it, my job is hard enough as it is without digging up anybody's ghosts." John's thoughts turned briefly to his dead wife.                                                               " Hmmm, I suppose they wouldn't make the best witnesses, would they ?" Wendy reasoned.}"You know there's a branch sticking out your coat, don't you “ she followed.

_{"What ! Where ?”}

_{"You mean you can't see it, with that big ol' detective nose of yours !” she said, waving a finger in the general vicinity of the surplus wooden appendage.}

_{John mumbled something under his breath as he extracted it.}

_{"I'll have you know that this is a very revered village, why there's even an account of Mistry as far back as the Doomsday Book, “ she proudly announced.}

_{"Hah ! Why doesn't that surprise me ?” said John, playfully rolling the empty whisky glass between his hands.}

_{"Tha' be right ! “ came a strangled voice.}

_{John turned his head to look down at a wiry elderly gentleman, who currently occupied a position just left of his elbow. He was a disheveled looking character, standing with a slight stoop in a crumpled herringbone three-piece suit, open white granddad shirt and heavily scuffed black boots. “ William the Conqueror 'imself passed thru' here, and wrote ' It's a small, hidden township – but stranger BEWARE.... OF WEDNESDAYS !” he recounted, with half-crazed eyes.}

_{"Wednesdays ? What's wrong with them ?! John's curiosity was hooked.}

_{The old informer, moved even closer to John, then carefully looking over both shoulders as if afraid of being overheard imparting such a dark secret,}

_{"That's when BLACK NECROMANCY is practised, deep in the woods under cover of night” he replied in hushed tones.}

_{"NO HE DIDN'T ! You daft beggar !” said Wendy chastisingly, gently flailing his arm with a bar towel. “ IT'S HALF-DAY CLOSING ! ” she concluded.}

_{Wendy and her accomplice stifled a chuckle between themselves, “ I'm sorry, but teasing strangers has become something of a pastime around here,” she empathized.}

_{"Hmmm ! I should've guessed, especially with that line about this place being a town... which it clearly ISN'T,” John addressed the old boy.}

_{"Ah, no ! That was Old Mistry, this is NEW Mistry,” he explained.}

_{"Old Mistry ?” John arched an eyebrow, quizically.}

_{"Aye, Mistry was a town long ago, but a terrible curse fell upon it that led to strange and unaccountable happenin's,“ the suited gent became wide eyed with the prospect of recounting the tale.}

_{"Mysteries in Mistry, how novel, “ John mused. “ Go on then, I'm listening !”}

_{"Well, it began with the mysterious disappearance of the townsfolk and shortly there was a fire, the likes of which has never been known before or since, it blazed for days - laying waste to everything. Nothin' was left standing. It was almost as if someone or SOMETHING wanted to bury Mistry's existence forever . Now it's jus' a hand-me-down story - the town that never was !”}

_{"Perhaps, I can offer a different chain of events, one that might be able to shed some light on your so-called 'mystery'” John smirked.} 

_{“ There was a great BIG fire, that decimated the 'town', leaving everyone homeless. So they simply ...CLEARED OFF ! Case closed.”}

_{"No ! No ! No ! The people left first, I tell ye !” protested the agitated gent.}

_{"Let's just agree that ONE of us is right, and the other is … MISINFORMED, shall we ?” John compromised, brandishing his glass in the air, indicating that a refill was required. 
“ Anyway, just how did this 'new' Mistry come about then ?” he asked, feigning interest in his companion while waiting for service.}

_{"Ah, that was after Lord Temple arrived, an' the discovery that this place was at the center of – ”}

_{"Awright, that's enough of the history lesson for one night ! Can't you see the poor man's had it for the day ?” Wendy interjected, as she renewed John's drink. “ Your night-cap, sir,” she said placing it in front of him.” I'd better open a tab up for you, something tells me you're going to need it.”}

_{John had to admit she was right, the long arduous day and the affects of the alcohol were catching up with him, so he threw the whisky down his throat, made his excuses, collected the room key and turned in for the night.} 

<sub>“ Tomorrow is a new day, a fresh start, “ he told himself as he made his way to the stairs, “ things can only be better, it's not like things can get any worse than today,” with these few words of encouragement to himself he smiled, confident that he was finally turning a corner for the better. 

lifeandfunnies.blogspot.com</sub>