Tag Archives: standing stone

The Green Race…


Far superior in every way to their white, red, black and yellow brethren, when the green race returned to their home planet they were not best pleased with what they found.

Mankind, such as it was, was easily subdued and once the potentially disasterous propensity to self-destruct had been removed they were once again allowed to roam freely over the planet much as a domesticated animal might.

Foraging amongst the ruined churches and temples of yore, the Old Testament of Divine Justice and the New, of Divine Mercy, were re-discovered and married together.

Thus, the green race perceived what had gone wrong with their experiment…

Still Stone-Less At-Chat…


“No one in their right mind believes that stones can walk.”

“Despite the fact that the Folk-Record is unequivocable on this point.”

“It is also unequivocable about stones dancing, and drinking from streams.”

“I may be able to clarify the streams. They may be underground.”

“They may even be telluric currents, but you promised.”

“That, unfortunately, is deductive reasoning for you. It was the only bit of wall we had not checked.”

“We had so checked it… last time.”

“Only from a distance and that does not count.”



As it turned out there proved to be another bit of wall we had not checked.

Also distant and too far away to consider once the snow started.

I mean, really started.

There were compensations though, like the trees and the wildlife.



“Are you sure it isn’t the Throne-Stone?”

“Not near enough to the wall and the gate.”

“But the wall is a mnenomic. Your mind could easily have contracted the distance.”

“Not the right size, or colour.”

“Like that’s not easily accounted for.”

“Maybe you’re right and I’ve discovered a new species of stone, which can walk!”

“But that would be a New-Old species of stone.”

“So perhaps it just went for a stroll, again.”

“What, in the snow?”

“…We did.”


Stones of the Night III…


…After a longer than expected climb up the steeper than anticipated side of the plateaux, you are finally within appraisal distance of the pointed stone.

Its presence, which now looms towards you, defining the false horizon, seems to demand that you stop for a space, the better to take in its form, and as you are, in any case, grateful for the pause and a breather, you do so.

‘Oh look, it’s a Raven-Stone!” you say to yourself.

Sure enough, looking right, the fault lines of the stone form a raven’s beak and an eye, and upon closer inspection there is a small indentation in the base of the stone which could be representative of a feathered shoulder.

As the possibility that this stone was deliberately placed begins to sink into your consciousness you start to look for other possible images in its apparently un-hewn surface.

Looking left there appears to be a more anthropomorphic profile and again a vaguely unsettling ramification starts to weigh upon your consciousness, ‘Stone of the Raven-God,’ says the voice that earlier you took to be your own.

‘Bran…’ comes the response which this time could very well be yours.

As if summoned, by your inner voicing, a black-form arrows towards you from out of the depths of the white sky and settles upon the point of the stone.

“Cruach… Cruach…” says Raven, preening, and hopping along the top of the stone.



Stones of the Night II…


…As the ferns thin you spy a wooden stile up ahead and descend the grassy-knoll rather too quickly for the conditions underfoot, trotting to the stile side, precariously, and resting awhile to catch your breath.

A road runs to your right quite close to the stile with a stone bridge beyond, under which you can hear water as it rushes and gurgles.

The thought of traffic impels you over the stile and into what remains of the wooded slope which has taken you this far.

As you again begin to climb towards a moorland vista, tree stumps and root systems lie exposed along either side of your path, resembling swarthy, grinning, woodland faces, which seem to claim a more intimate knowledge of your terrain than you can.

You continue your climb and leave the cover of the trees completely.

Again unsheltered you are met by another, now invigorating, blast of cold air.

Far to your left, the stone face watches serenely. Far to your right the shark-fin peak is hidden by the slopes of two hills which form a classic v-shaped valley.

Before you rises a steep sided plateaux which holds the object of your quest. You know you can go left or right to reach the top of the plateaux but a point mid-way along the false horizon draws your attention.

From  your vantage it looks like a pointed stone and leading up to it though the seasonally ravaged remnant of the bracken runs something resembling a path.

You head for the rudimentary path and set off along it towards the pointed stone…




“In the programme…” said the man wearing a green-kilt,



“…the portal-stones lead to another time.”



“He’s referring to a tele-vision programme,” said Wen, quietly.



“And what of the non-tele-visual world?”



“There isn’t one.”