SOUL WARS
FIDDLING THE DANCE OF AGES.
Andrew Hennessey.
 
In the silent hours before the dawning of the light I was lying alone in my bed at repose.
Outside it was dark and still and an owl hooted in the big ash tree that overlooked the small apple tree outside my window. Somewhere, a cat, out on the prowl mewled out loudly on its nocturnal business.
Realising that I was awake, I turned my head to my right and to my surprise could see a small little old lady about five foot tall, glowing whitely.
She was standing there,  her back a bit bent over, was thin and had short white straggly hair and was  wearing some long dark shawl and she seemed to be preoccupied looking out of my  bedroom window.
I called across to her to ask her  what she was doing here and she said that she had come to visit the master of  the house.
 
As she looked over to me I  thought that I could recognise her face, but her face shape shifted slightly.  She might be the same lady that had appeared in my condo in 1996AD, though that  time she was younger and wearing a ball gown.
That time she had been a princess  of an Imperial Court and was wishing to teach me etiquette so that I could make  my appearance for her Ruler.
 
She spoke softly and suggested  that she had been keeping an eye on me and that if I co-operated there were  several questions that she could answer for me.
I then asked her where she had  come from and she said that she had 'been sent from somewhere that she could not  talk about by the lady in charge.'
 
'Who was that?' I asked. She  replied that 'there were some things that it were not permitted for me to know  at this time.'
She walked through the doorway of  my bedroom and in curiosity I got up and followed her into the hall, noting that  she gone briefly into the music room before she came back out and sat down on  the hall carpet.
 
Humans were a troublesome  sort.
She had strong memories and  opinions of olden times.  The  Jacobite rebellion of the 18th century and the song of ages clung to  her like her dark shawl. She had seen many ages in Scotland. The battles, the  sailing ships, the strife and the turmoil, she had seen an era of human waste  and did not approve of it.
 
She had seen me before in times  past too.
 
I sat down facing her and noted  that she had strewn dark toy soldiers four or five inches high from different  centuries on the carpet in front of me. 'These', she said, 'are the people that  gave you and your own history reason to be.
These people you have fought and  become entangled with in the loom of fate.'
Amongst their scattered numbers  was the image of a little red dove that  shimmered.
This she said was the dove of  innocence that had been slain by the house of Hennessey. She asked me to remove  this stain.
I pointed out that I could not  for the image on the carpet was a magik.
She then produced a little box of  matches or Lucifer's and set a tiny fire to the magical weave that bound the  blood of the slain into the weave of my life, and then the image of the little  red dove vanished.
 
She said that with her power she  had lifted the curse of the death of ages on the house of  Hennessey.
I seemed pleased at that, for I  had seen a lot of grief in this lifetime and was sore needing some  love.
Suddenly, beside her appeared a  young black haired elfin lady who sat silently by her  side.
She was a slender five-foot tall  and wore a tunic and breeches of strangely styled clothing. Her long black hair  fell to her shoulders and her eyes were dark as the night  sky.
Then the mysterious young lady  spoke out. 'Master of the house Andrew Hennessey master musician and Scottish  fiddle player..' She then lavished praise on my fiddle  playing.
Ah she said, 'such style, such  form, to play with such fire and to not burn the fiddle, to squeeze the notes so  passionately and to not murder the tune, to play like that in a way that so few  mortals could, you'll be finding favour with us and a loving embrace, for who  amongst us could resist lying in the arms of such a fine fiddler. Surely you  will want to come with us. ?'
 
Ah I said, our paths have crossed  here, but my destiny leads elsewhere so I must say no to your offer of fine  parties and songs.
I thank you for your indulgence  though.
At that the older faerie lady  spoke up and said 'well spoken' master of the house of  Hennessey.
It will surely be another  instrument that you must learn to play before we meet again. Master of the  fiddle, there are other times and other lives and other instruments in the weave  of the loom of Hennessey.
At that they both  vanished.
 
The epic weave of the dreamlike  encounter is poetic and traditional and Scottish though the underlying mystery  is alien.
These beings were seeking  permission to interact and abduct and in their own dark way were attempting to  lead my spirit into chains and confinement into a cycle of hardship at a lower  frequency of existence.
 
Their interaction with people who  have the second sight is legendary in Scotland though the experience does  usually tend to be morbid in nature.
The Tramontain Seers of the  Scottish Highland's were forever entwined with news of death and  tragedy.
The second sight tends to be more  of a curse than a blessing and was given to me by my mother's genetic  line.
The nature of these interactions  tend to enable windows of opportunity for the seer or victim to become entangled  or drowned or overcome by the powers of these beings who operate beyond the  senses and time frames of the human.
In some of the traditional tales  from the Scottish borders, the faeries are heard to utter dreadful and scornful  laughs as they abduct their victims from the world of life into the ceaseless  world of Hades where their worm does not die, nor their fires go  out.
 
In the true nature of this  interaction though, I was exhausted by the act of separation from these beings,  and was drained of my life essence in no small  way.
 
There was going to be the price  of fatigue for being able to live on in the light and tell this  tale.
Immediately on becoming conscious  in the glimmering light of dawn I prayed a prayer of thanks to the Angels of  Christ who watch over me.
 
One always gets the feeling that  if these beings were to wear silvery suits and drive space ships that it would  somehow spoil the cultural party. As actors on the temporal human stage though,  their superhuman powers have always been historically on display, and beyond all  the trappings and baggage of human history, no doubt, they have their own  regrets about the lifestyles they once abandoned to become  vampires.
 
There is a common theme that has  been developed in my history of this interaction though, and that is that some  agent of the alien world of faerie vampires wants to abduct me for and on behalf  of her Empress.
 
She has tried the glitz and ball  gown approach in 1996AD, when she materialised in daylight in my bedroom at  eleven in the morning. At that time she wanted to introduce me to the Imperial  court and tried to use alien technology to aid the uplift. She has been seen  pacing after me in shopping malls or rolling past me in a car from around  2000-2006AD, or materialising in my house, 2003AD, along with a flock of  strangely repugnant flying triangular beasts, manta ray sized and shaped,  glowing white.
A chaotic flock of glowing one  and a half feet mantas straight out of the hive of hell no doubt. Several of  these were then caught on film the morning after. A few had remained behind and  were still cruising about the room. 
Tonight, October 3rd,  2007AD, however, she tries the traditional approach as the faerie hag or somehow  benevolent fey-wife.
I suspect that her young black  haired assistant this time was actually herself doing a traditional double act  of 'maiden and hag'.
 
The question is though, where are  such performances leading .. as being regularly ineffective it becomes less and  less possible for this dark Vampire world to  collect.
Is it time to send for Van  Helsing or maybe make a call to Captain Kirk to see if he would let me borrow  one of his fine Phasers, or, is it now time for me to get spiritually real and  thank my Angels and Guardians who must perpetually keep this stuff off to  preserve my spirit and soul from the powers, principalities and dominion of the  worlds of darkness.
 
Without my guardian Angel, my  soul would have been long gone and my fiddling days truly  over.
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