Beneath an English Sky
The Ghost of William Bunyan

This introduction is by Anthony Christie, for Callassa Media Company Ltd. Publishing. 2010.

William Bunyan, was a young soldier. Shot dead.
The doll maker's house is where he lived with his parents. Now having become
a desolate, dark and cold ruin of a dwelling, situated on the moors. There
is always the sound of water, though there isn't a stream. The book
features a Shire horse, also called Bill Bunyan.

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Here are a few extracts:

Scenario: BILL IS IN THE WOODS:

Wit Woo...Wit Woo...Wit Woo... The darkness in the woods is unyielding. The owls, hidden, but not unheard know that I am here. I can't make out what the shrieking sound is that's cutting through ahead of me. I've not heard it before. I'm taking my nightly walk, an hour or so later than usual...

Something was passing very quickly by the left-hand side of my face. I think it might have been a bat. But bats make a certain sound, whereas this was more a whoosh...Perhaps it wasn't anything flying, but 'something' disembodied? I'm quick to reach this conclusion. We have these discussions she and I. About how, what are regarded as 'ghosts' are not what they are assumed to be. These kind of things spring to mind here, while vulnerable in this way. Is it because there really is something here? There it goes again. I ought to be afraid. The mind conjures all manner of things of myth. A spirit woman, laden with lust, running by me. A spirit boy, spitting dark light. Something connected to the cosmos, most likely?...

There it passes again. That sweeping motion, close by my head. This time it was straight across my eyes, close, perhaps even encompassing part of my head in its traverse. Scary. My awareness seemed to follow in its path that time. As though taken away for a while...

Scenario: BILL IS ON THE MOORS:

This place I've come to...It's as though a Winter moment has leapt back to become frozen in time. It was bright about an hour ago. It must be something to do with the elevation. There are the remaining stones of a house, long gone. I'm wondering who'd chosen to live in such desolation? Why here and not close to a village or to a town?...

It makes me think of the life's fleeting certainty. How cruelly short life is in duration. Yet, this wind and the fast darkening sky is perpetual. As is the shifting of the weeds and the dust...

Scenario: BILL IS SOMEWHERE. NOWHERE. EVERYWHERE :

William. The ghost. Where on the unified stream does appear what to we is completely unintelligible intention? As it impinges?.. And has the capacity to both terrify us and to destroy us altogether?...

ISBN 978-1-906503-11-6 Copyright (c) 2010 Callassa Media Company Ltd. All rights reserved.

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