Peggy Powler squatted behind a rhododendron bush and watched the pitch-black spaces between pitch-black shapes.
The full moon struggled to penetrate the thick clouds and and infiltrate the scant forest-floor and what ambient light that
could get through only made any reconnaissance difficult by tricking the eye into seeing aphotic outlines of nightmare
monsters.
...................................................
Monsters... yes, the little Witch appraising the setting of her baited-trap knew of plenty of monsters, her mother had taught
her only daughter well. From how the gullible believed Vampires and Vampyres had long fangs for their feasting, all the way
across the spectrum to to cutting off both ends of a loaf would cause the Devil to fly over one's roof.
The fang-belief had a nice touch because in reality, it stemmed from a tradition that was quite mundane and yet, disturbing
due to the religion similar to the one Father Jacobs adhered to. When concerns about a corspe coming back to life was an
issue in a superstitious family, some Priests would advise adding a certain plant or flower to the dead's coffin.
These flora were of many preferences, roses, juniper and mayflower seemed to be a regular choice. But Peggy had heard
of holly, blackthorn and wolfsbane being used too. However, such fearful convictions may struggle in the cold light of reality
and when the deceased is given to the undertaker, will the article of faith be interred as well?
Luckily, the same mortician came-up with the answer. A simple device that only costs a few pennies to allay fears of roaming
blood-sucking relations terrorising those who put them in the box in the first place.
On some coffins, there is a small brass-tube that is fixed into the upper-centre on the inside of the lid. The flower sits in the
narrow tube and this pipe sits in a metal ring. The ring has two spikes that the undertaker gently taps into the underside
of the coffin's lid. So now, the person in the coffin can have a fragrant flower to accompany their passage to the otherside.
It's an old custom and by using small spikes to attach the narrow pipe to the lid, it saves on using screws and cuts the cost
down. Where this practical habit falls down is that the Vampire or Vampyre dislodges this metal ring and uses the same spikes
to obtain the blood for their unnatural thirst.
With another sweep of the surroundings, Peggy silently scolded herself for her wool-gathering. Now was not the time for
recollecting advice and warnings during her journey of being the last Witch of Underhill. Still, her scant knowledge of the
creature called the Barguest hadn't come from her fortune-telling mother, it was from a far-sinister being and to be exact,
it was from just its severed head.
...................................................
Hexham, Summertide. Twenty-odd years ago.
The picturesque meadows around the hamlet of Hexham were a place where lovers rolled in the lush grass and sheep grazed
in the areas not flattened by such merriment. Time was as thick as treacle and smiles were worn as regular as long stockings.
Then a dark shadow had loped across the land, a malificent form that promised to terrorise and ruin the peace of Hexham.
On the first night and beneath the same pale moon that failed to illuminate the ruminating Witch under a rhododendron briar,
this unknown menace took out a midnight mail-carrier delivering newspapers and two poachers on their way home from a
healthy catch. Not all parts of the trio were recovered.
The terror-stricken residents of Hexham had scoured the woodland and the outer-leas in search of the beast, but there was
trail, no spoor that could be followed and no snag of fur on a thorny twig to identify the culprit. Then an old shepherd waking to
relieve himself in the dark hours, observed a massively-built five foot-tall wolf passing his barn on its way to a treat of farmyard
chickens. Though never said in the tale, the shepherd had released his urine where he was stood.
A plan was set by the men of the village and waiting in hiding, the night watched the scheming inhabitants of the serene land
wink and nudge each other in their cunning. But this loping wolf didn't follow the credo of its fellow-lupus... no, this visiting horror
was the renown Accam-Dey, the wolf that thinks like a man.
After two weeks of raiding and bolted doors failing to protect three farming families, Accam-Dey was finally captured with the
use of a goat and eight armed-men. Brought back alive to the tiny community of Hexham, they paraded the powerfully-muscled
-but worryingly quiet, fiend on display in a cramped wooden cage.
The only problem was on the second night of its incarceration, Accam-Dey left its prison and tore-up two families and an old
gypsy-woman camping nearby. It was agreed later that the lock on the enclosure may been tampered with by Fae-folk.
But this was only ever said in hushered-tones.
A full-scale hunt was promoted and after a week had passed, the animal was found, beaten and stabbed to death by the villagers.
Accam's head was removed and placed in a glass case that used to hold a sacred object that now has been conveniently forgotten
about.
A couple of days later, Peggy had been driving out an evil-smelling spirit from Hexham's only tavern's upper-rooms and being held
as a constable of the esoteric ways by the village's Elders, she was allowed to visit the guarded-shack and warned that what she
witnessed must never be talked about. It was midnight when the young Ms Powler first set eyes on the glass display and its contents.
Standing before the pumpkin-sized shaggy-head of the beast, young Peggy had stuttered out a spell that her Mother had told her
about and in the poor-light of a candle, she waited for the charm to flourish. Then the room filled with shadows and for a moment,
she wondered if the incantation was marred by her poor pronunciation. But not wanting to show fear, she looked at the propped-up
head of the beast that knows your very soul.
They talked until the dawn came and in that time, great wisdom was transferred along with ancient spells of bewitchment and rare
fairy-glamour. The little Witch listened even when she thought her brain was going to explode, what the terrible wolf uttered was -at
times, unbelievable
As daylight threatened along the bottom of the door, Accam-Dey looked on his pupil and with smouldering eyes surveying her small
form, he asked for his payment for such occult revelations. Peggy Powler had been told what the restitution was and raising the hem
of her poncho, she began to pay the fee.
...................................................
One single blue eye blinked in the tenebrosity and Peggy flung her memories to one side, it was time.
The full moon struggled to penetrate the thick clouds and and infiltrate the scant forest-floor and what ambient light that
could get through only made any reconnaissance difficult by tricking the eye into seeing aphotic outlines of nightmare
monsters.
...................................................
Monsters... yes, the little Witch appraising the setting of her baited-trap knew of plenty of monsters, her mother had taught
her only daughter well. From how the gullible believed Vampires and Vampyres had long fangs for their feasting, all the way
across the spectrum to to cutting off both ends of a loaf would cause the Devil to fly over one's roof.
The fang-belief had a nice touch because in reality, it stemmed from a tradition that was quite mundane and yet, disturbing
due to the religion similar to the one Father Jacobs adhered to. When concerns about a corspe coming back to life was an
issue in a superstitious family, some Priests would advise adding a certain plant or flower to the dead's coffin.
These flora were of many preferences, roses, juniper and mayflower seemed to be a regular choice. But Peggy had heard
of holly, blackthorn and wolfsbane being used too. However, such fearful convictions may struggle in the cold light of reality
and when the deceased is given to the undertaker, will the article of faith be interred as well?
Luckily, the same mortician came-up with the answer. A simple device that only costs a few pennies to allay fears of roaming
blood-sucking relations terrorising those who put them in the box in the first place.
On some coffins, there is a small brass-tube that is fixed into the upper-centre on the inside of the lid. The flower sits in the
narrow tube and this pipe sits in a metal ring. The ring has two spikes that the undertaker gently taps into the underside
of the coffin's lid. So now, the person in the coffin can have a fragrant flower to accompany their passage to the otherside.
It's an old custom and by using small spikes to attach the narrow pipe to the lid, it saves on using screws and cuts the cost
down. Where this practical habit falls down is that the Vampire or Vampyre dislodges this metal ring and uses the same spikes
to obtain the blood for their unnatural thirst.
With another sweep of the surroundings, Peggy silently scolded herself for her wool-gathering. Now was not the time for
recollecting advice and warnings during her journey of being the last Witch of Underhill. Still, her scant knowledge of the
creature called the Barguest hadn't come from her fortune-telling mother, it was from a far-sinister being and to be exact,
it was from just its severed head.
...................................................
Hexham, Summertide. Twenty-odd years ago.
The picturesque meadows around the hamlet of Hexham were a place where lovers rolled in the lush grass and sheep grazed
in the areas not flattened by such merriment. Time was as thick as treacle and smiles were worn as regular as long stockings.
Then a dark shadow had loped across the land, a malificent form that promised to terrorise and ruin the peace of Hexham.
On the first night and beneath the same pale moon that failed to illuminate the ruminating Witch under a rhododendron briar,
this unknown menace took out a midnight mail-carrier delivering newspapers and two poachers on their way home from a
healthy catch. Not all parts of the trio were recovered.
The terror-stricken residents of Hexham had scoured the woodland and the outer-leas in search of the beast, but there was
trail, no spoor that could be followed and no snag of fur on a thorny twig to identify the culprit. Then an old shepherd waking to
relieve himself in the dark hours, observed a massively-built five foot-tall wolf passing his barn on its way to a treat of farmyard
chickens. Though never said in the tale, the shepherd had released his urine where he was stood.
A plan was set by the men of the village and waiting in hiding, the night watched the scheming inhabitants of the serene land
wink and nudge each other in their cunning. But this loping wolf didn't follow the credo of its fellow-lupus... no, this visiting horror
was the renown Accam-Dey, the wolf that thinks like a man.
After two weeks of raiding and bolted doors failing to protect three farming families, Accam-Dey was finally captured with the
use of a goat and eight armed-men. Brought back alive to the tiny community of Hexham, they paraded the powerfully-muscled
-but worryingly quiet, fiend on display in a cramped wooden cage.
The only problem was on the second night of its incarceration, Accam-Dey left its prison and tore-up two families and an old
gypsy-woman camping nearby. It was agreed later that the lock on the enclosure may been tampered with by Fae-folk.
But this was only ever said in hushered-tones.
A full-scale hunt was promoted and after a week had passed, the animal was found, beaten and stabbed to death by the villagers.
Accam's head was removed and placed in a glass case that used to hold a sacred object that now has been conveniently forgotten
about.
A couple of days later, Peggy had been driving out an evil-smelling spirit from Hexham's only tavern's upper-rooms and being held
as a constable of the esoteric ways by the village's Elders, she was allowed to visit the guarded-shack and warned that what she
witnessed must never be talked about. It was midnight when the young Ms Powler first set eyes on the glass display and its contents.
Standing before the pumpkin-sized shaggy-head of the beast, young Peggy had stuttered out a spell that her Mother had told her
about and in the poor-light of a candle, she waited for the charm to flourish. Then the room filled with shadows and for a moment,
she wondered if the incantation was marred by her poor pronunciation. But not wanting to show fear, she looked at the propped-up
head of the beast that knows your very soul.
They talked until the dawn came and in that time, great wisdom was transferred along with ancient spells of bewitchment and rare
fairy-glamour. The little Witch listened even when she thought her brain was going to explode, what the terrible wolf uttered was -at
times, unbelievable
As daylight threatened along the bottom of the door, Accam-Dey looked on his pupil and with smouldering eyes surveying her small
form, he asked for his payment for such occult revelations. Peggy Powler had been told what the restitution was and raising the hem
of her poncho, she began to pay the fee.
...................................................
One single blue eye blinked in the tenebrosity and Peggy flung her memories to one side, it was time.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.