Witches coven in local Sharp Hill woods?

8 04 2010

Easter Sunday found me on my third brisk walk with our dog Sammy and this time we’d headed for a recently designated Nature Reserve wood, also adopted by the Notts Wildlife Trust.  Although we’ve lived in West Bridgford, Nottinghamshire  for 20 years we had never actually ventured to the wood atop the green hill, only passed it on the local Melton Road and admired it from afar, but we had got wind of a local petition to save the greenbelt area surroundinge the wood from developers.  The official saving of this old wood for future generations to enjoy was seen as a great triumph and naturally we thought it was about time we explored it for ourselves.

We puffed to the brow of the hill and followed the trail to the inviting entrance of Sharphill Wood, complete with  wooden boards painted in yellow letters, proudly proclaiming the status of this brand new Nature Reserve, including a little box containing shiny new information leaflets.  The public were politely invited to keep to the newly built (and very muddy, due to heavy traffic) wide pathways meandering in many directions, so us humans obligingly strode out as best we could, slithering and balancing along the way – while the elegant long legs of our collie danced lightly ahead!  Despite not yet in leaf, many of the mixed deciduous trees provided an impressive canopy above.  The Trust volunteers had obviously been busy blocking certain vulnerable areas with branches from small trees, which had  been thinned from the woodland floor and rich, dark vegetation was already evident in these pockets.

A good ten minutes into our walk I became aware of spirits whispering; a combination of the nature spirits of the trees and woodland but also a human spirit.  (After the muddy path became impassable we had decided to pick our way respectfully  into the centre of the woodland, which was more natural)  I tuned my ears to the conversation, which appeared to be about me….   

“Is she a wych?”….Ay, a good wych…see how her spirit dances?….”  Did they realise I could hear them? I could sense the phantom of a slim girl, dressed in rags and light on her bare feet, with matted hair but very bright eyes, was walking just behind us, curious as to my intentions. 

“Hello.” I said simply, without turning around; “These are beautiuful woods… What’s your name?” 

“…Margueriete -” (Curiously, the French version of the English, ‘Margaret’ and also the name of a chrysanthemum-like daisy).  “I come by here every day to gather herbs for my pot and berries for my sups…” she volunteered.    She continued to dawdle comfortably behind us, sharing the beauty of the natural surroundings.  I asked her where she lived: “Yonder, by Ruddingtown.”  It seemed a shame to bring up the subject of her trapped spirit as she seemed so happy, but just as I pulled my dowser from my jean’s pocket (necessary to marry up her spirit to the portal of light) there was a mad moment of confusion as it almost flew from my grasp; a man from the other side (already at peace and obviously known to her in their medeival lifetimes) appeared instantaneously as the girl’s spirit joined his own; home at last.  In a fleeting moment I experienced his horrifyingly vivid death scene: He had been ‘crucified‘ by being nailed to a tree.  The man (‘Edward‘, also sounded with a French accent) had left his body at the time of death but Margureite’s spirit (she had also been unspeakably murdered) had become trapped by the horror of her death….in the woods….by ‘fellow wyches’…part of a Black Magic circle.  Barbarically, she had been ‘made to watch while her ‘brother’ was ritually sacrificed by the evil Pagans.’  Oo-er.

How appropriate that I should be drawn on this Easter Day to rescue a young girl who had witnessed another crucifixion.  Later, I was led to guide many more wandering souls in this vicinity back to the light – and then clear the dark residue that hung ominously above Sharp Wood, infiltrating within after dusk had fallen.  If anyone who knows the history of this land would like to comment they are most welcome, as always!

The Week’s Farewell column 3 April 2010

1 04 2010

Part of my policy to help earthbound spirits on their way is to check the Farewell columns wherever I see them, whether it be in our church magazine, newspaper columns or, as today, the list of 5 recently deceased people in The Week magazine.  9 times out of 10 all the names listed have already departed for the light.  Once in a while one of the list (usually consisting of 5 or 6) needs a helping hand, but today was very different indeed, making me think that perhaps I was led to tell you this!  As soon as I saw the 5 on today’s list my crown tingled – all 5 were still loitering on the earthplane, so I helped each in turn to leave.

Minutes later, I asked each in turn whether (now safely on the other side) they wished to pass on any message for my blog.  Below I have copied the information from The Week, followed by the comments received:

‘Robert Culp, actor, writer and director, died 24 March, aged 79′ – “Darn it; I forgot to bring my fags!”

‘Maria Fairweather, linguist and biographer, died 8 March, aged 66′ – “There is about to come a spiritual and cultural revolution!”

‘His Honour, Alan-King Hamilton, Old Bailey Judge, died 23 March, aged 105′ (!) –  “His Master’s Voice has spoken!”  (I see a wooden gavel come down hard)

‘Vasily Smyslov, chess grand master, died 27 March, aged 89′ – (My husband and son just happen to be having a quick, rare game of chess as I tune in to him at 8.45 pm!) – “We exist in a parallel world!’ 

‘Elspeth Thompson, Telegraph writer, died 25 March, aged 48′ (tragically young) – “I left behind a great legacy!”

Obviously, I know nothing of the personal circumstances of any of these souls but if anyone reading this does then I would appreciate any feedback! 

Note: None of the above were ‘trapped’ souls as they had only died 8 days, 24 days, 9 days, 5 days and 7 days before I offered them a helping hand. (It is not until approximately 3 months after the death of the physical body that a soul becomes disorientated and unable to find the way home.) All would eventually have left off their own free will, but all wished to contribute to the spiritual understanding of their fellow men and women!

Several voices now concluded: “And so say all of us!”

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