More and more people have showed a keen interest on the so called elite and its alleged meetings. Does such elite exists and, if so, is it really true that ritualistic events are held in secret? This item, Harkwood Hall, is the first item lifting the veil on this subject and it starts one of the twelve main storylines contained in Revelation Antarctica written by Gordon Keirle-Smith. If you’re curious to find out more about this story-line, you can find other related items already published on the blog.
About Revelation Antarctica
Written by Gordon Keirle-Smith, Revelation Antarctica is a book rich in provocative content and rich visuals designed to entice your imagination and guide you through a journey that will make you question humanity’s origins, the impact of the Moon on human behaviour, the existence of a highbred elite wanting to keep humanity under control, among other interesting topics such as reincarnation and mediumship. In a partnership with The Wellbeing Blogger, Gordon Keirle-Smith has been publishing and sharing items of his awesome book here on the blog and to which you can find hyperlinks to here.
This week’s item:
– 01 –
It is another of “those” weekends.
William Harkwood, just one week away from his 21st birthday, looks out over the perfectly manicured lawns stretching from his ancestral home’s towers and buttresses to the ornately wrought gates, now firmly locked. Beyond them, the flashing blue lights of the Police cars and vans bear witness to the tight ring of security now encircling the imposing Harkwood Hall and its several acres of parkland.
‘This is something very important that happens here every year,’ William’s father had explained to him when he was seven years old. ‘But you must never, ever tell anyone else about these events or mention anyone connected with them. All you have to do is keep out of sight and take no interest in what is going on inside or outside the House. Margareta will be keeping a close watch on you at all times during these two or three days, making sure you follow my instructions to the letter. Do you understand?’
For the next five or six years, William strictly follows his father’s stern orders, staying close to Margareta throughout these “important” weekends. He is an only child, his mother having died in a shooting accident when he was only five years old. Margareta was his Nanny when this tragic event occurred and, as time goes by, she becomes more and more attached to him, for the Harkwoods are the only real family she has ever known. As a result, she is totally devoted to William, becoming the maternal figure he returns to when he comes home for the holidays from his “character-building” boarding school in Scotland. In fact, she even becomes more important to him than his father who, always so involved in the family’s financial institutions, has little time left for his son and heir.
However, William’s deep affection and great respect for Margareta do not prevent him from exploiting her trust whenever he needs to. Particularly as far as the secretive annual weekend gatherings are concerned, made even more intriguing simply because they are ‘off limits’.
Therefore, from the age of twelve onwards, William always seems to have an important essay to write or research to carry out in Harkwood Hall’s extensive library during the “important” weekends when Margareta is supposed to be keeping him under her wing. She is, in fact, more than a little relieved he has these absorbing assignments to work on because, as much as she loves him, the generation gap between the two of them becomes more and more difficult to manage.
William uses this time and “Do Not Disturb” strategy to investigate and discover as much as possible about the mysterious weekends and the many people who attend them. Needless to say, the more he discovers, the more intrigued he becomes.
As far as he can tell, between fifty and eighty people attend these annual events. They must all be very important people as well, judging by the sleek, black chauffeur driven cars and dark-windowed limousines they arrive in. Not to mention all the police and security officers at the gates.
But who are they? Why do they all gather at Harkwood Hall? And why does the local Chief Constable and several poker-faced men in dark raincoats always come and visit his father exactly seven days before one of these gatherings takes place? Why are the comings and goings so furtive? Why does he hear strange, muffled cries rising from the Hall’s vaulted cellars, said to date from pre-Roman times? And why do these “important” events always take place in spring, when the Moon is black?
By the time he is sixteen, William believes he has worked everything out. All these comings and goings must involve people of great importance in the world. He even wonders if they constitute some kind of Global Council where major decisions are made to affect the entire planet. Here on his own doorstep! They meet at Harkwood Hall, he reasons, because of his father’s involvement in international finance.
William also decides whatever goes on in Harkwood Hall’s cellars during these events, must involve black magic. Maybe there are even blood sacrifices… Satanic rites… His imagination runs riot with all the possibilities streaming through his fertile mind.
Time for common sense?
However, now, with his twenty-first birthday so near, William has become rather more prosaic. Largely due to Florence, the beautiful dark-eyed Italian beauty he met at King’s College Cambridge two terms ago. She has changed his life and laughed out loud when he told her about his suspicions concerning “goings-on” at the Hall.
“You can’t believe that,” she taunts. “Willie! Not you, with all your scientific background and your calculations, your rationale and all… Whatever would Prof Wilcox say if he knew you believed in such crazy stuff?”
“I didn’t say I believed in them,” Willie protests. “I just said I imagined it. Trying to put two and two together.”
“Well, you’d better redo your maths, my over-imaginative stud,” says Florence, laughing even more. “Or I’ll tell everyone you think you’ve got two and two balls ‘together’. ‘Four ball Billy!’ That won’t do your mathematical reputation any good, will it?”
“Oh, I don’t know… I’d say the more you’ve got, the more you can give…”
Later on that evening, William’s mind goes back to Florence’s comment. “Actually, she might have a point,” he thinks. “Maybe it’s time for me to be a bit more reasonable.”
Whatever, in one week’s time, his father will be telling him everything, and he’ll be able to lay all those ghosts to rest. Put aside “childish things…”
If he’d only known what would be happening in ten days’ time, when strange phenomena appear in the skies above the world’s greatest cities, he might have had second thoughts about this sudden fit of “common sense”.
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