On December 1st 1991 I spent the whole day attempting to establish and map the track of the Michael and Mary energy lines, and others if I came across them, over the area encompassing the West Kennet stone avenue, Silbury Hill, West Kennet Long Barrow, East Kennet, the Sanctuary and the Ridgeway.
Moving west from the small hamlet of East Kennet I picked up the Mary line again and made my way towards the West Kennet Long Barrow which was beckoning on the dusky horizon, it was about 4pm and the sun had long set.
Mary was heading straight for the eastern entrance of the barrow, and was flowing west. The lay-by where visitors normally parked was about 600 meters away to the north on the A4 road, which passes just south of Silbury Hill. It was empty and that suited me. Soon I entered the barrow, gladly alone – I wanted to soak up the energy inside. I spent quite sometime just taking in this amazing tomb, and imagining how it might have been 5,000 years ago. I shot no photographs, which I did some days later, and many times afterwards, and thought I’d best be heading home to Bristol.
It was now 4.20pm and the temperature was dropping rapidly, even though the sky was overcast, so I began heading down the footpath in order to reach my car. This was parked about a kilometer away, between West Kennet and the Sanctuary, on an old farm track.
I suddenly noticed that there were 5 or 6 figures making their way towards the barrow on the footpath from the lay-by – but strangely there was no vehicle there. Soon these figures were heading toward me, now a short distance away. Now I had difficulty counting them because they were aligned behind each other. They appeared dressed in black, and walking in single file.
My imagination kicked in and I started thinking – why on earth would a group of people visit a place like this, when it was almost dark. As they approached I discerned a little more and felt a bit edgy, unlike me really. They were all dressed in long black hooded cloaks. All were hooded but the leader, and he had a large crop of very fuzzy, curly black hair. I continued to walk, as naturally as possible toward them – and begun to wonder what would happen when we met on this fairly narrow path with barbed wire fences on either side.
As the leader approached me, apparently unaware of my presence, I was astonished to see he was wearing a large golden cross, hanging from a substantial golden chain around his neck. It lay on his chest and seemed to shine, even though it was close to darkness now. He was now only yards away from me and I braved a look in his direction – another shock of sorts – his face was that of a cherub.
For some reason this disturbed me and I shuffled sideways to make way for them to pass. They did so without a greeting or noise of any kind – I was not even sure I could hear their footsteps. I was convinced one of them was a woman; sacrifice came to mind.
I was relieved in a way to be ignored, but on the other-hand I felt a bit miffed. I started off more briskly for my car – I wanted home. On the way, I kept having the urge to look back, and I did several times. It seemed to me that these figures were making little progress toward the barrow’s entrance, or that time had slowed right down. The horizon they were set against was pretty dark, but I could still make the line of them out.
I was not that far from my car and decided to take one more glance just before the barrow was about to sink beneath the horizon to the west. They were no longer visible. I tried my binoculars but it was too dark – I needed night vision. But then to my astonishment a gigantic white flash emanated from the entrance of the barrow, which I could just see the top of. The flash lasted only a fraction of a second but it incredibly lit up the whole sky. That flash was no camera – was chemical or even alchemical.
My idea of going back there soon faded away. I wanted to and didn’t want to. I got into my car to set off home. As I passed the parking lay-by there were no vehicles. As I passed Silbury Hill I spotted a long black car, like a Cadillac, parked just off the road, up a farm track. It had a Jersey number plate.
End of story, Peter Breingan
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