Don't drink and read Auras

It seemed like such a good idea last night, but so often instant decisions which stem from a half-baked idea. It started with a large glass of sherry, it was all we had in the house. Patrick poured most of a bottle of Harvey's Bristol Creme between two grubby tumblers and offered me one. I normally loathe Sherry but the way I felt last night I would have drank anything to numb the pain. The Sherry went down very quickly and to my head almost immediately. Patrick took longer than me to finish his drink, as the last of the liquid slid down his throat a determined look appeared in his eye then suggested that we go out for a few drinks. Stupidly, I agreed. Less than ten minutes later we were in a noisy bar near the seafront drinking Guinness. This was the start of a heavy couple of hours, many pints of Guinness later we found ourselves in a very loud, busy and boisterous. By this time I was feeling a little drunk. OK, I was more than a little drunk, I was very drunk. Patrick has an enormous capacity for alcohol, this is linked to his heritage, which I will not go into at this point. I remember staggering into the toilets, I may have knocked over a few drinks on the way but as my memory is hazy I could have convinced myself that this was the case.

I leant forward with my head resting on the wall as I noisily released my stream, sighing in relief. I then registered that, not only was the toilet full, there was a queue. I also noticed that the young, wiry and notably less drunk, using the urinal next to me glowed with a blue glow. For some inexplicable reason I made eye contact and muttered:
'From the sea then mate?' It was more of a slurred series of syllables than a coherent sentence.
'You what?' He asked.
'You're a sea being mate, I can see it.' For some reason he took offence to this. I saw bright lights and a flash of blue. I heard the 'C' bomb dropped and realised I had been too. I lay in a puddle of piss and blood for a few seconds before I was picked up Patrick.
'What the fuck have you been playing at matey?' He intoned as he dragged me out of the pub onto the windy, cold street. I remember thinking how sober Patrick appeared, well, sober compared to me anyway.
'That's the last time I take you out on the piss.' He chuckled as we lurched towards home.

Patrick was somewhat cold towards this morning but later he thawed and accepted that there was no harm done. I am ducking the issue, I need to get in touch with my erstwhile colleague from Flower's Barrow and find out about the replacement operation.

The past

I'm not in a great state at the moment. I may have made a mistake by going back to my home, to my house. I don't know what I expected but whatever it was what I actually experienced left me cold and feeling alone and isolated. The road where I used to live, that was painful to say, is quiet and as such I knew that if I spent any time loitering and watching then I would most likely be the subject of too much attention from the curtain twitchers. I paused opposite my front door and looked in through the window into my front room. Who was the man? Who was the man hugging and kissing my wife? I stayed, still and quiet and staring at the happy scene in what I still thought of as my front room. I heard a noise by the pub and noticed that a couple of bald, agitated thugs were taking a firm interest in my presence. I wrapped my shemag tighter around my face and left, still very conscious of the stares that followed me.

I'm back at Patrick's now and still the images run through my mind. I know that I shouldn't, but, I suspect that at some point in the near future I will endeavour to get in touch with Emma.

Back home, almost

After my scare last night I slept little, not a surprise as I ended up sleeping in a bus shelter. This morning I took the first bus to the nearby town, where I changed and ended up at the nearest town with a railway station. It was still early, the carriage I boarded was empty, well almost. A single sleeping remnant of last night snored gently in a corner. It wasn't long before I was doing the same. A station before my stop I awoke to a carriage almost full to capacity, as my vision swan into focus I saw that there were four or five otherworlders in the carriage with me. They were different colours, two red a brown and a green and as they wren't together nor of similar alignments, I wasn't unduly concerned. When the train pulled up at my final destination I was more than ready to jump off.

Three of the otherworlders disembarked at the same time as me, I loitered on the platform until they had all left. Finally I passed through the barriers and out into the street. The shadow bastards swooped and dived, coming close to me but not quite close enough. I shouldered my bag and set off to find Patrick.

I wandered for some time until I found the confidence to call Patrick. I spent over an hour ensuring that I was not being followed before I huddled into a disused shop doorway and called Patrick. He was expecting my call and met me presently. I am now lying on Pat's sofa writing as I watch him drink beer and fart while he watches the Hairy Bikers, am I any better off?

Dark rising

I know that title has been a tad overused, but last night I had a rather disturbing encounter. Having left the cosy arms of a warm and welcoming community, I fell back into a cold and hostile one. With no couch surfing available I had to revert to hostels and the first hostel I fell back to reminded me why I hate them.

I should have smelled a rat when I first arrived an there were no other patrons for the night. The night porter, it was nearly midnight, was strangely cheerful (another bad sign) and showed me to an empty dormitory. Without a thought I undressed, leaving my clothes on the floor and, in the gloom settled into a cold silent bed. As I sank into the depths of sleep, far too quickly, alarm bells rang in my mind, but I could do nothing to arrest my fall into the arms of Morpheus. As I struggled for the last time, my eyelids heavier that ever before, I was sure I could see shadows rise from beneath the bed. They swirled quickly and formed into a tall, looming, mass. With treacle and fear it leant over me in a moment of wild terror and memory. Then I was awake; awake and aware. The room was just a room and my clothes were back on my body. As I thumped down the stairs and past the abandoned reception desk I saw the scattered oblivion of an old building. What the fuck had I been thinking?

I have broken into someones shed, I have a pound coin by the cheap padlock so that it can be replaced, but I do feel far more secure and happy here in a small, freezing shed with no bed, blanket or hope.

I will move on properly tomorrow.

Wendigo

I suspect that at some point in history, tales of vampires and tales of Wendigo coincided and caused confusion between the two. The name comes from the native American people the Algonquin but Wendigo, under whatever name, have existed, and indeed exist, around the globe for centuries. The characteristics portrayed in the media of suave, mysterious, being with great strength, charisma and presence are more true, in reality, of the Wendigo rather than the the vampire. Thankfully Wendigo are rare but they often occupy positions of power and importance, in fact I have heard of a very prominent celebrity who is purported to be a Wendigo. I have seen this individual on TV and could not tell whether or not this was true. In fact it is true that I cannot see any auras on TV or through any lens or device, it is almost as though I do not 'see' rather my brain receives its stimulus be other means. The Wendigo is a feared and even respected otherworld being, coming into contact with a Wendigo is dangerous to say the least.

The power of the Wendigo is their ability to absorb the qualities of their victims by devouring their flesh and drinking their blood. This means all physical, mental and supernatural elements possessed by an individual are taken on by the Wendigo. Just hope that if you ever have the misfortune to meet a Wendigo that you have nothing they deem worthy of further attention.

As I sit here on yet another railway station platform writing about the Wendigo I remember a story Patrick told me about his close encounter.

A few years ago Pat was working in a coffee shop in London, a small place near Tottenham Court Road. I feel that I need to explain something else as this point about auras, well not just auras but about the ability to detect otherworldly beings. I can 'see' aura of all otherworldly beings, some others can detect through sight, smell or touch beings close to their own kind but ALL Wendigos can apparently see, smell, and feel ALL otherworldly beings and detect their abilities with uncanny accuracy. There are lot of media companies in the area who tended to use the chic coffee shops, it was a new executive from one of the larger organisations that frequented Pat's shop. Initially surly and curt, when Pat served the attractive dark ,haired woman her demeanour changed. She became polite, charming and flirty eventually engaging Pat in conversation regarding a vacant position within the company. Pat was completely taken in by all this and agreed to meet up after work to discuss this. At this time he was completely unaware of the identity of his potential benefactor. Luckily for him, in hindsight, he was hit by a car during his lunch hour and spent some time in hospital. During this time a friend of Pat's who also worked at the coffee shop became the target of the Wendigos affections. He, had powers arising from the air and only escaped when the creature revealed itself because some air elementals can 'phase' that is move in short bursts at extreme speed, so fast that they appear to leap from place to place without passing through the intervening space. Thus uncovered the Wendigo soon departed to feed elsewhere.

My train is due. More later.

Earth, fire and water. Elementals that is.

Gareth had stayed out later than his shift. I had told him about the gathering of fire elementals, he works with one, evidently and asked. I realised that discussing such matters between otherworlders was generally frowned upon and that Gareth had put himself at risk by asking. Thankfully he had mentioned why he was enquiring the fewer people knew about my current whereabouts the better, it would also make moving on covertly a damn site easier.

A quick note on factions, for want of a better word. The elements are the basis for the various alignments between the otherworlders, particularly Earth, Water and Fire. The earth faction, generally green or sometimes brown, are currently the strongest. They are the tree folk, got-men, goblins, boggarts, trolls, phooka and brownies and are in a constant struggle with the water faction; Merrow, merfolk, kelpies, selkies etc. The fire faction; djinn, drakes, dragons, salamanders etc. tend to see-saw between the two, lending their support and aid as they see fit or as and when it convenient and beneficial for them. The air faction have managed to remain neutral for decades now, as far as I can tell. There are other entities that remain un-aligned, the vampires, shadow people and werewolves I have already mentioned in a previous post but there are others the worst of whom is the Wendigo, more of that later, tomorrow probably as I will be on the road and will have time to write, or maybe Monday. The only other significant faction are the ghosts, they are incredibly powerful and view the struggle between the elementals as beneath them.

Gareth managed to find out that the fire faction are being wooed by the earth faction and some major move against the water faction will no doubt be the result. This made me feel a bit more secure as the encounter on the South coast may have been coincidental, perhaps not directed against me. Gareth agrees that I need to drop below the radar for a while and find out as much as I can. He will cover my tracks the best he can and remain silent about my intended activities. He has also suggested that if asked a little misdirection would not go amiss. I have my bags packed and will be on my way this afternoon.

Time to move on

Gareth was still asleep when I got up this morning. He hadn't returned home until well after four this morning, I know because I was awake and toying with the idea of talking to him there and then but thought better of it. He had proved difficult to engage in conversation at the best of times, I didn't want to leap in with a heavy subject when he had just finished a difficult shift at the factory. So I left it alone until this morning, unfortunately he wasn't bloody waking up.

Since I awoke and have waited for my less than genial host  to surface, I have had more time to ponder on my current situation. Although my movements have been, probably, widely advertised, it is not generally known that I have the ability to read the auras of all otherworlders. I have been met with mild and polite curiosity on the whole, a few hostile encounters granted, but those I have encountered who are differently normal have normally accepted me as nothing more than an oddity, someone who has been attracted to their community like a moth to a flame.

I aim to leave in the the next couple of days, if I can get Gareth to but into my idea and help me cover my tracks. I guess I can go and play the XBOX while I wait.