21:41
Faizan
The old man was of an inordinate age -
He left a mound-lore (of the Tor)
Perhaps mostly of fragile gossip, yet it was food for thought.
"It is the only hillock around Summerset, and considered quite old...
A manmade structure, once known as Avalon, which had a moat of water surrounding it... !"
My start was timid -
I carried a handbag, field glasses, a steel pistol, strong rope, incidentals for emergencies, and a trench-knife, along with a heavy battery-operated flashlight-
To those who knew me, I was set out for a certain doom.
At one time, the mound, or Tor-during the 10th Century A.D., was known for its expression of infinite evil.
Although I could not concur with this.
At present there was a slight decadence to the ancient long-rounded- mound, with striking features, as I did my surveying and orbiting by foot to its perimeter-
Hence, convincing me it was an artificial tumulus (perchance dating as far back to the days of the Neanderthal, if not proto-Neanderthal, or some intergalactic alien burial grounds, like Stone Heap of the Wildcat, in the Golan Heights of Israel).
But where was its inner door to its massive passageways, roads, corridors throughout its body?
No maps or signs existed to or from its lower to its top, of where once it had been quite visible to the monks of old.
On its summit was a plateau of some three-hundred feet in dimensions, and a section of an old relic tower, perhaps once a chapel, or monastery, destroyed in the late 10th or 11th Century A.D., after King Richard the Lionhearted visited Glastonbury (Summerset, England), coming home from the first of the Crusades, stopping to see King Arthur's grave site, which I had visited ((dating back to the 4th or 5th Century A.D.)(At the time of the fall of the Roman Empire))
The whole mound was covered with rank grass, dense underbrush.
The old man had told me of several friars, who had found the entrance, sometime in the14th or 15th Centuries, only one finding his way out, a monk who had become known as the Mad Monk, thereafter.
Now as I turned about, the old man had disappeared a little hauntingly-like; then I made a complete 360-degree turnabout, no longer was in sight.
In consequence, I started to wonder, as I climb the mound of his identity, he had just happened to be there when I arrived, full of information-
'Could he have been a collective hallucination with the community?' I pondered on that thought for a moment, or an apparition? Who's to say!
As I looked back at the village, I knew but a few of the town's folks, for this was my second visit, my first in 2002, wherefore, I had visited the Tor, and at which time I had also visited also King Arthur's gravesite, this time-fourteen years later, I wanted to find its entrance; find it and venture into its labyrinth, into its heart!
He left a mound-lore (of the Tor)
Perhaps mostly of fragile gossip, yet it was food for thought.
"It is the only hillock around Summerset, and considered quite old...
A manmade structure, once known as Avalon, which had a moat of water surrounding it... !"
My start was timid -
I carried a handbag, field glasses, a steel pistol, strong rope, incidentals for emergencies, and a trench-knife, along with a heavy battery-operated flashlight-
To those who knew me, I was set out for a certain doom.
At one time, the mound, or Tor-during the 10th Century A.D., was known for its expression of infinite evil.
Although I could not concur with this.
At present there was a slight decadence to the ancient long-rounded- mound, with striking features, as I did my surveying and orbiting by foot to its perimeter-
Hence, convincing me it was an artificial tumulus (perchance dating as far back to the days of the Neanderthal, if not proto-Neanderthal, or some intergalactic alien burial grounds, like Stone Heap of the Wildcat, in the Golan Heights of Israel).
But where was its inner door to its massive passageways, roads, corridors throughout its body?
No maps or signs existed to or from its lower to its top, of where once it had been quite visible to the monks of old.
On its summit was a plateau of some three-hundred feet in dimensions, and a section of an old relic tower, perhaps once a chapel, or monastery, destroyed in the late 10th or 11th Century A.D., after King Richard the Lionhearted visited Glastonbury (Summerset, England), coming home from the first of the Crusades, stopping to see King Arthur's grave site, which I had visited ((dating back to the 4th or 5th Century A.D.)(At the time of the fall of the Roman Empire))
The whole mound was covered with rank grass, dense underbrush.
The old man had told me of several friars, who had found the entrance, sometime in the14th or 15th Centuries, only one finding his way out, a monk who had become known as the Mad Monk, thereafter.
Now as I turned about, the old man had disappeared a little hauntingly-like; then I made a complete 360-degree turnabout, no longer was in sight.
In consequence, I started to wonder, as I climb the mound of his identity, he had just happened to be there when I arrived, full of information-
'Could he have been a collective hallucination with the community?' I pondered on that thought for a moment, or an apparition? Who's to say!
As I looked back at the village, I knew but a few of the town's folks, for this was my second visit, my first in 2002, wherefore, I had visited the Tor, and at which time I had also visited also King Arthur's gravesite, this time-fourteen years later, I wanted to find its entrance; find it and venture into its labyrinth, into its heart!
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