Prepared Statement: come up.

Sol’ce house’s inside.

They help people here.

Being this ‘s so, Harvest LaDaveysunne up’d onto the house framehoused porchdeck, and multiply fisted the very actual Solice house’s newly laid front door. ‘sisting to get inside, they repeated. And yet again. Help people. The very actual booster Da’Pennisoon. To be rid of these languages. This language. This soon. In this now, or sooner. Help people there. Rocks, the door ‘last fell ‘way back to the rightside. People there; there’s a boil there. Questioning?

This out is the to purpose flow of out out the the purpose purpose of all of this all this.

They help people there. Herp. Help-herp. Herp-help people, there.


Okay ‘o te’ me, why you c’me here, why’ you pick here to be?

This this out all is this the of to all purpose of flow purpose of purpose out the out the the out the out purpose of purpose flow of purpose all to of the this is all out this and of this.


Okay. You. Help people. Herp. ‘o there. You hey. There’s a boil there on your cheek. Herp herp. There. Big one large one people there they help people there. ‘o there ‘n’ o’ there. Vastly sure they do. Come inside. There. Help people. A boil. We got a deck to deal you. There. Have we! Vastly they do they. Inside. Do help people there. Too ‘one’y, But ‘o.

Entre Vous. My biggest is I can’t good or bad objectify neither. Oof.

Here’s Solesse House. Once th’ inner Wallace’s, we have tractortones, boosted frillies, established Solaice and flowing house, to serve exactly backdown file the s’, as such as you. Solesse House Here’s. Have that seat there. Your boil? Sol’ce House. To remove boil? Yes.

In Sollace House?


Gensudriate. They wait there to help people?

They wait there. Yo’ ‘ellecome. To help people, there people help to, help people there.

They ‘o?

Ye they do. Okay.

Proudly. So, what the reason’s to comes half-provide up you?

Lawrence? Or non-Lawrence? That’s a sift.

Whichevers such boiling as those you curranted halfwise there way-houses where, they wait there to help people.

To help people there? For re-entry? They wait there?

What? Wo.

No, main man, that’s the furthest—b’. Get it out there in my pack it’s. Go. Describe the malady you expect Solace house to ease down. In my pack there.


Poole’s not mayor anymore. Why there?

Furthest out there? Editrationers.

Yah furthest out there—pack those editrationers.

Those right there?

Right there. Con Carne.

In wild hilarity—done.

Wildly snapper; stage direction.

Half-provide they, reentry houses. Rip-tootin’ Hueys.

Good slogan.

Thank you. So—turnkey live your collage.

Okay. So, they brillo. And brillo. But none’s sent packing.

This time you mean?

No. All times out there.


What I mean, what? Ut? All times out from there. Why? This should be plain. Ut. Listen-thick; the flight deck should handle whatever heavies may be devised out there—out there where he’s pointing.


And the hulls be mounted steeply. This I gagged when that got insisted upon.


So, yes I am here. This. Want those boils removed? This is. That may come here be why you have seeking come seeking this here out seeking this out and this out. This is to flow. Here. This is to flow out. The largest. This is to flow out the. Con. Turn that largest here. This is to flow out the purpose. Carne. This alley here. This is to flow out the purpose of. This one. This is to flow out the purpose of all. This one ‘t’s got the bright inside. This is to flow out the purpose of all of. Piano. This is to flow out the purpose of all of this. Con Carne. That con carne. This is to flow out the purpose of all of this all this. Piano. That plate there. This. That con carne plate there. This all. That con carne plate. This all this. There. This all this of. That con. This all this of all. That carne. This all this of all of. Piano. That con carne plate here. This all this of all of. This con carne plate. Piano pian. This all this of all of purpose. This one there. That all this of all

of purpose the. Go. Describe the malady you expect Solisse house to ease down. Iano piano. To be rid of those languages. Make it snappy. This all this of all of purpose the out. Those languages. This all this of all of purpose the out flow. This soon. This all this of all of purpose the out flow to. In those nows, or sooner. This all this of all of purpose the out flow to is. Which boil? This all this of all of purpose the out flow to is that. That boil. Boil. That boil. They hear it now. They hear it the rip. The nit and the pic of it. Pain-nanno, did they hear the rip. They heard they they hear rip o’ the rip: wow that membrane was tough but we got it the flow—prude box. Did you bring the prude box MacDaniel?


Did you bring the prude box the container McFlow or MacDaniel we don’t know your name yet you’re a new hire, so.

Come in. Come in.

The files linked to here are scans of some papers found in the bottom of a drawer in the dusty special collections unit just today (06/01/21). I have no idea how old they are though clearly typewritten (possibly daisywheel). They seem to be two versions of the same event written in a kind of Blackwood/Machen esque style (though not as profficient). The most intriguing thing about the papers is that I recently (only two days ago) read a Scottish folk tale about a faerie named Whuppity Stoorie. In the tale it described her as an old woman all dressed in green. This document describes a very similar figure. The synchronicity made the tale seem more significant.

You can read the first of these mystery oddities here and the second one here.

Appearing in ‘Songs of the River’ ‘The Fall’ is another classic wander through some of Seranoga’s favourite territory: water and time. The religious hints can hardly be missed, not least in the title (which also has a watery allusion). More intriguing is the mention of the corvid stone which has sometimes been interpreted as the Bible (owing to the last verse), however other scholars identify it with certain very old obscure texts from South America that Seranoga was known to have been interested in. The connection in the second verse between ravine and raven seems clear; it seems this must link somehow to the stone of the penultimate verse.

The Fall

The candid hope of lofty spires,
This path winds oddly steep,
But a glamour soon has held me,
Am I so long asleep?

The bouldered ways are stirring,
With mist and ‘tween time shade,
The ravine is long cawing,
Was I so long ago made?

The river flows in florid spirals,
The ne’re return so long,
The horse wind speaks in whispers,
How lingers still this song?

I find that there’s clipped and loathsome hints,
Of something I once knew,
I sought for a stone that hid beneath boughs,
Of bold and corvid hue,

And on this tablet long described,
How clambering from the pit,
Is the blessing and the curse entwined,
For which ‘mankind is fit.

Written later on in his life, ‘Underground’ represents Seranoga’s gloomy outlook upon his existence in Europe in the mid-twentieth century. His fading (already curious) Catholicism is no doubt a factor in the unrelenting misery of the work.


Down, down, down underground where the goblins live below, in the glow, of their cavernous ancient woe.
Drown, drown, drown in the well where you fell, you can tell to the last, life so fast now has all by past.
Die, die, die as you cry, asking ‘why?’ No you’ll never understand what was planned, not by human hands,

There’s never been a reason to knock upon the door,
There’s never been a season to live a little more more more…

Choke, choke, choke on a rope, no you didn’t break your neck, as you dangle twitch and strangle in a dark stair well,
Scream, scream, scream from the stream as the nixies drag you under, and you wonder, what these daughters or the water have in store for thee.
Flee, flee, flee from the spirits of the wood if you can, no too late, no escape now they’ve sealed your fate.

There’s never been reason to get up off the floor,
And God is out of season, so bang upon the door, door door…

Dance, dance, dance, look askance no you haven’t got a chance of romance, cold hard eyes turn and look away.
Moan, moan, moan, to the stones in the twilight turn and groan, floating things to you sing, on the night time’s wings.
Stare, stare, stare at the moon in her witching eldritch glare, shadows passed, have amassed, now for you they grasp.

There’s never been a reason to live a little more,
And God is out is of season so lie upon the stone cold floor…

By Jim Meirose

Th’ chief bluesuit’s arm rose, silencing Pig right there; and, the words he spoke ran ‘long the arm, which by some magical means accelerated his words into, Pig and that other pal, he think’s he’s been speaking to, saying, Never mind. No more is required. It looks like everything’s in order here. There is nothing to see. We can repairback whence we came here out of and back further from that even and an’ d d na dna—so. Being far above any normal pup’s protests, the three tallboys in their blue zoots in ackrian’s whirlwind ‘bout the body swirled packing it up, sealing it down, cleaning all down and making the way out the room hall then the entire building; so—an immensely meaningful silence formed on the autopsy table, cricked out a vastly finespun blueboy of a spherical whirl, that grew sucked any stray particles of proof from the room and, the door. The knob rattled its lock being unn’d from the far side itself, and she opened full of a janitor-man that broomed itself off to the side, and in came Venisienne, all herself as they usually are, and the Chester-named Lavender Boy, saying nearly unisinion right then, eh, we thought you were tired of waiting for the janitor but—how’d you get in here? You were out here now, in? That cannot be!

No! Wait! You were in here with me, you were jabbing and slicing this, eh—wait.

Turning around, Pig ‘xpected to see, but; by our Gods—what? What? What no, can’t be, b’ yes; the vast college lab room stretched ‘ver, an’ countless empty dissection tables stretched neatly lined up left to right and front and back all together, and; it was much too bright in there; it is much too bright in here, so; and it had taken the—autopsy room, but—something pushed down, pressing its corresponding other one up, and Pig blinked, spat, coughed and yes; great God! He became once more back, in his very today, all alone, in Helmut Greene’s worldwide discreet autopsy and private twenty-four-hour emergency lawn care contracting concern; where he’d been called to expect some supposed high-level remains requiring emergency autopsy to appear, but not—and five minutes out, not; and fifty out, no; and how many hours thereafter—no. So, he went to his divan, for what reason he’d even got off it didn’t ‘ually matta’, while burrowing into the fattest book available, to wait there, inside; where way back from any far future past your fully pulled stops, there came read back to you that hazy description of an unusual event some several dozen years further back yet from the furthest yet you dare ‘tempt to probe. Beware, though; too far back will cast off your strange body and force you to know what you really are, so, no. Not interested. Keep going. There is nothing to see. Everything said here, please, folks. Let it slide slick out back past this here’s far behind. There’s still nothing to see