[This is the second instalment of the legend of Stick Boy.] Stick Boy got lost here on Black Down on his way to Holmbury Hill. He didn’t know he was going to Holmbury Hill, you understand, it’s just that he wasn’t intending on stopping on Black Down. However, the heavy fog which sometimes sits on that hill was causing him to walk in confused circles. Stick Boy sat down at a cross-paths to think. As he was admiring how the yellow of the gorse still popped in its own brightness amidst the fog, Stick Boy saw a shadow emerging from a distance down a path. A small shadow, wandering and weaving along the sandy trail, and holding a piece of bracken in her hand. Her name was GG, but Stick Boy didn’t know that then. GG stands for Ghost Girl, but only meanies call her that. To those of us who
In the beginning, long before the earth had been dug and ravaged, this was what human beings meant when they said ‘gold leaf’. In those days, human beings were taller and more graceful, kind of like how we imagine a LOTR-type elf only with a dwarf colour palette. In those days, collecting gold leaves was a coveted pastime by the people of Stanley Common. It was saved as a reward for those who had been the kindest and most compassionate the year before. The job was given so that the lucky gold leaf gatherer could go about finding beauty and replenishing any emotional, psychological, and spiritual well that felt dry. In this way, gold leaf gathering was a salve for the most gracious few. At the end of the year, the community would round up all the leaves the gatherer had collected and they would arrange them into the most beautiful
Here I learnt the story of the kingfisher. He has watched this stream rise and fall, empires of minnows with it. Here, at dawn, the deer come to drink and gossip and speak of where to find the most perfectly ripe buds. Here, the dragon and damselflies whizz and flit, landing hither and thither, dazzling all but the kingfisher with their glitter. Here, where it is always a degree or two warmer, silent people come and sit quietly with their breath, watching the play of light on water. The kingfisher remembers a time when there were thousands of his kin living along the full course of this stream. A time of bustling minnow empires, the occasional trout, and when the stream floor was covered in turquoise and emerald pebbles. This was the time before the miners came and left the stream with nothing but a golden, sandy blanket for a floor.
This here sombre photo, is of the Bench of Regret which can be found on Black Down Common. It is said that, should a person seek to try it, they can use the Bench to work through their past and emerge into a brighter future. The legends say that when a person—amply fortified by courage, patience, and determination—sits down on the Bench, then the Ghosts of Black Down Common spring into a slow and steady action investigating the difficulties of the Seeker’s past. Accordingly, once seated on the Bench, the Seeker will do best to adopt an upright pose with their back straight and their hands neatly folded on their lap. Their eyes should be half-closed, and softly focussed. Once positioned so, the Seeker should concentrate on their breathing—especially on the space in between each breath—and simply await what the Ghosts have to show them. Seeker be aware that the Ghosts