Good evening and welcome to my awe-inspiring aethenaeum of praiseworthy pamphlets…or as some ridiculous personages have dubbed it – my lovely library.
I am the ghost known as Perilous Wight and here in the bowels of the city of Lancaster, in the disused tunnels of an underground train system that never was, I have made it my mission to collect every book that our self-proclaimed ‘supreme ruler f the universe’ and his mincing minions have banned from the bookshelves of the new world.
But this is not a public thoroughfare! If you have wandered in here on the ill-advice of that incorrigible octopus and its unnerving Gentleman Friend, let me advise you not to be so easily lured into a parlour by strange creatures promising sweet delights. Well, you will find nothing sweet and alluring down here; here there is only the dark and the damp, the flickering of candlelight and the ceaseless toil of a man who did not re-animate from the dead to be pestered by people wanting bedtime stories!
But wait…what’s that you have tucked away under your arm there? A bottle of the old Green Fairy eh? Oh…. well, yes perhaps it is about time I put my feet up for a while, pipe and slippers and a little drop of something, the day has, after all been a long one. And I suppose I could read a very little something, or perhaps my dear friend Elen Sentier here, who is visiting me this evening, will oblige us with a reading from her wonderful book Moonsong?
Oh marvellous Elen thankyou so much for that! Just the ticket on a night such as this eh?
If you are not already familiar with Elen’s work, she writes paranormal mystery-romance novels. She’s been writing all her life and professionally since 1999. Elen is a wilderness woman, born on Dartmoor, grew up on the edge of Exmoor, and comes from a long line of British cunning folk so she also writes about & teaches British native shamanism. (so it is really no surprise to find her here on a Friday night sharing a bottle with a Lancastrian Ghost!) She now lives with her husband, cats and a host of wildlife in the wild Welsh Marches of Britain.
Now then the hour is getting extremely late, I really must insist you go, I have important work to be getting on with, not least making sure the front door is Liver-Bird proofed again, true I have no flesh to devour but they do make a dreadful mess of the books if they manage to get in …. what’s that? You’re not sure your coat is Liver-Bird -proofed either? Well I’m sorry you should have thought of that before you decided to break the curfew! It’s certainly not my problem! Good Night!
Oh, er…leave the bottle though…I mean, if you don’t make it home it’ll be a terrible waste…