Awakening of the Watchers by Timothy Wyllie

Author:Timothy Wyllie
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: New Age/Chaneling
Publisher: Inner Traditions/Bear & Company
Published: 2016-01-31T16:00:00+00:00

The weather had cleared by the time Brother Joab and my ward reached the outskirts of the town of Warminster in the English county of Wiltshire.

Warminster was founded in Anglo-Saxon times, with its name first appearing in the tenth century, although human occupation was already ancient when Stonehenge was built close-by. It’s an area of England long believed to have sacred or magical qualities. It was in this region that crop circles were first observed and photographed in the early 1970s, although simple circles had been appearing occasionally for some years. It took the advent of small, low-flying, private aircraft and sufficient curiosity on the part of pilots to look out for the formations in the crop fields for them to be discovered. A few have been relatively obvious hoaxes, but apart from them, the circles continued to manifest in progressively more complex formations over the ensuing years, with an unusual concentration of these circles in the fields of southwest England.

This isn’t the place to digress on the subject of crop circles. I will discuss them further in a later volume, when my ward is back in England and free to spend some time in an authentic crop circle. Besides, on that chilly winter’s night in 1969, as the two Processeans drove slowly around the deserted streets of Warminster, crop circles hadn’t yet emerged as the enigma they remain to this day.

In the 1960s, it was all about UFOs.

The newspapers had called it a “UFO flap,” with large, silent, cigar-shaped UFOs seen by numerous witnesses in the Warminster area. There’d also emerged a single daylight photograph of an unidentified craft taken in 1965 that, despite much examination by experts, has stood the test of time.

This much Mein Host knew as he and Joab drove around talking about UFOs; that and the unusual name of the person who had published a book about the paranormal phenomena occurring in the Warminster region. Peering at his watch—it was 10:30 p.m.—Joab suggested looking in a phone book for the author Arthur Shuttlewood’s address. It was there, of course. This was England.

At around 11:00 p.m., the Rover drew up in front of a small suburban house and the two Processeans were welcomed in by a tall, thin man in his sixties with a twinkle in his eye. He appeared unfazed by the unexpected arrival of two such outlandish-looking beings at a time when all good people should be tucked up in bed. But then Arthur wasn’t tucked up in bed either, was he? It was almost as if he was expecting them. When I saw my ward’s sly wink at Joab, I knew that was what was in his mind.

After seating the pair in the cramped living room and pouring them each the customary cup of tea, Arthur Shuttlewood launched into the story of his investigations of the weird, unidentified sounds that had been frightening and puzzling the good townspeople for the past four or five years. Arthur was on the case.

Originally a journalist with

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