@nihilsinelabor.bsky.social
Reposted
Goodnight from Steven Dix, not relishing having to tell Hookland Highways Department their temporary traffic lights have been stolen by a flying saucer. Goodnight from Posy Cropper, entering candle communion in hopes of guiding Olag Gandle home. Goodnight from Hookland.
February 15, 2026 at 10:00 PM
Goodnight from Steven Dix, not relishing having to tell Hookland Highways Department their temporary traffic lights have been stolen by a flying saucer. Goodnight from Posy Cropper, entering candle communion in hopes of guiding Olag Gandle home. Goodnight from Hookland.
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You tell yourself it's the ivy moving against the glass. Tell yourself old, half-abandoned buildings are full of noises you'll never fathom out. Then the voices start and you realise no writhing vegetation, no auditory pareidolia from ancient pipes offers up full sentences.
February 16, 2026 at 11:43 AM
You tell yourself it's the ivy moving against the glass. Tell yourself old, half-abandoned buildings are full of noises you'll never fathom out. Then the voices start and you realise no writhing vegetation, no auditory pareidolia from ancient pipes offers up full sentences.
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Goodnight from Roz Greene, braiding her fingers with her lover’s out of both fear and desire as they walk the dark of Needle Lane. Goodnight from David Sands, perturbed by the petrol station cashier twitching when he mentioned he was driving up to Vow Hill. Goodnight from Hookland.
February 14, 2026 at 10:01 PM
Goodnight from Roz Greene, braiding her fingers with her lover’s out of both fear and desire as they walk the dark of Needle Lane. Goodnight from David Sands, perturbed by the petrol station cashier twitching when he mentioned he was driving up to Vow Hill. Goodnight from Hookland.
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Wishing all of the county of Hookland a happy Olag Gandle Day.
Light a candle
For Olag Gandle
Burn it through the night
Perhaps your candle
For Olag Gandle
Will bring him home aright
@hookland.bsky.social
Light a candle
For Olag Gandle
Burn it through the night
Perhaps your candle
For Olag Gandle
Will bring him home aright
@hookland.bsky.social
a candle is lit in front of a window with rain drops on it .
Alt: Monochrokme gif: a candle is lit in front of a window with rain drops running down.
media.tenor.com
February 15, 2026 at 12:19 PM
Wishing all of the county of Hookland a happy Olag Gandle Day.
Light a candle
For Olag Gandle
Burn it through the night
Perhaps your candle
For Olag Gandle
Will bring him home aright
@hookland.bsky.social
Light a candle
For Olag Gandle
Burn it through the night
Perhaps your candle
For Olag Gandle
Will bring him home aright
@hookland.bsky.social
Reposted
The truth was, he looked like a boy she’d loved in a previous life. So when she #kissed him, she felt guilty. She bit her tongue so she wouldn’t say the wrong name. But then—he called her by a different name. One from long ago.
“You finally caught up to me,” he whispered.
#vss365
“You finally caught up to me,” he whispered.
#vss365
February 14, 2026 at 8:40 AM
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Goodnight from Jill Hazely, sure it’s something other than foxes rummaging through her bins given the sooty claw marks on the galvanised lids. Goodnight from Adam Winter, offering stone prayers to the thrice-ravened saint of St. Aldate at Tateltrop. Goodnight from Hookland.
February 13, 2026 at 9:57 PM
Goodnight from Jill Hazely, sure it’s something other than foxes rummaging through her bins given the sooty claw marks on the galvanised lids. Goodnight from Adam Winter, offering stone prayers to the thrice-ravened saint of St. Aldate at Tateltrop. Goodnight from Hookland.
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Goodnight from Josh Bent, still troubled by the partially burnt-out negatives of a naked coven he found behind his new allotment’s shed. Goodnight from Peggy Mildmay, sleeping sound as the dead in the walls whisper into her dreams. Goodnight from Hookland.
February 12, 2026 at 10:09 PM
Goodnight from Josh Bent, still troubled by the partially burnt-out negatives of a naked coven he found behind his new allotment’s shed. Goodnight from Peggy Mildmay, sleeping sound as the dead in the walls whisper into her dreams. Goodnight from Hookland.
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Streets remember their humble origins even if their newer residents don't. They remember in the ghosts of knocker-uppers rapping windows with their poles. They remember the slow clop of night-soil carts taking away the stink. Shades recollect how a place lived. – #CJosiffe #Ghosts
February 4, 2026 at 4:17 PM
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Goodnight from ‘Witch Kettle’ Sam, standing on the border of Faerie and watching both its moons light the skies of two worlds. Goodnight from the blitz-scarred stones of Ashcourt, uneasy in remembering the nights when they didn’t know if they’d survive the blackout. Goodnight from Hookland.
February 4, 2026 at 10:11 PM
Goodnight from ‘Witch Kettle’ Sam, standing on the border of Faerie and watching both its moons light the skies of two worlds. Goodnight from the blitz-scarred stones of Ashcourt, uneasy in remembering the nights when they didn’t know if they’d survive the blackout. Goodnight from Hookland.
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The horse is placed so centrally in folklore because our relationship to it has always been a defining cultural feature. Its ghosts are many. They pull spectral corpse carts, are steeds in phantom battles. A network of invisible clip-clopping down a thousand lanes. – Dr. M. Benn #FolkloreThursday
February 5, 2026 at 11:51 AM
The horse is placed so centrally in folklore because our relationship to it has always been a defining cultural feature. Its ghosts are many. They pull spectral corpse carts, are steeds in phantom battles. A network of invisible clip-clopping down a thousand lanes. – Dr. M. Benn #FolkloreThursday
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Whatever the weather, you can always find some adherents to the Black Fathom Faith in wordless wave communion. They storm-stare, listen to long sunken voices rasp against the stones of the shore. We who are outside this salt sect can only imagine their ecstasies. – #CLNolan
February 3, 2026 at 4:20 PM
Whatever the weather, you can always find some adherents to the Black Fathom Faith in wordless wave communion. They storm-stare, listen to long sunken voices rasp against the stones of the shore. We who are outside this salt sect can only imagine their ecstasies. – #CLNolan
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Goodnight from Kimmie Attwell, waking with blushing memory of dreamy kisses shared with the girl who wears snowbells for earrings. Goodnight from Ian Garfield, sure he can hear his granddad whispering from the marmalade jar that’s full of his ashes. Goodnight from Hookland.
February 3, 2026 at 10:03 PM
Goodnight from Kimmie Attwell, waking with blushing memory of dreamy kisses shared with the girl who wears snowbells for earrings. Goodnight from Ian Garfield, sure he can hear his granddad whispering from the marmalade jar that’s full of his ashes. Goodnight from Hookland.
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The #souls drift along the corpse road, and Miriam stands watch. A flute in one hand, a knife in the other. One to fend off the spirits, lest the more ghoulish want her to join them. One to threaten the harvesters, who always try to net a few souls for the black market…
#vss365
#vss365
February 3, 2026 at 6:10 AM
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There are places that whisper to us: "Hurry home!" Places that whisper: "You are not alone here." The idea that consecrated ground is silent on such matters is risible. The average English boneyard is crowded with shades. It enfolds with spectral mumbles. – #CJosiffe #Ghosts
February 2, 2026 at 5:42 PM
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Goodnight from Molly Halse, relieved the stream of candle-carrying children knocking her door in hopes of toffee has finally spluttered out. Goodnight from Tim Bray, finding sleep evasive knowing Candlemas is when Wood Sprites are said to wake from hibernation. Goodnight from Hookland.
February 2, 2026 at 10:04 PM
Goodnight from Molly Halse, relieved the stream of candle-carrying children knocking her door in hopes of toffee has finally spluttered out. Goodnight from Tim Bray, finding sleep evasive knowing Candlemas is when Wood Sprites are said to wake from hibernation. Goodnight from Hookland.
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There is a malignant tree in the graveyard of St. Mary of the Three Crowns at Danebury that always wakes when storm darkens the day to the point lanterns are needed. Bone-fed and cursed, its hiss can be heard above the wind. Its scraping words wish only doom to men. – #CLNolan
February 3, 2026 at 2:03 PM
There is a malignant tree in the graveyard of St. Mary of the Three Crowns at Danebury that always wakes when storm darkens the day to the point lanterns are needed. Bone-fed and cursed, its hiss can be heard above the wind. Its scraping words wish only doom to men. – #CLNolan
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Goodnight from Jo Stubbs, wondering what sort of person creates a series of terrifying children’s books about a tribe of people living in a sewer. Goodnight from Jim Calford, exorcising ill luck from the lambing shed by nailing up ram horns and gifting the Sprites some milk. Goodnight from Hookland.
January 31, 2026 at 9:48 PM
Goodnight from Jo Stubbs, wondering what sort of person creates a series of terrifying children’s books about a tribe of people living in a sewer. Goodnight from Jim Calford, exorcising ill luck from the lambing shed by nailing up ram horns and gifting the Sprites some milk. Goodnight from Hookland.
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Goodnight from The Starfall Tavern, where Tom Rudd is earning pints by telling increasingly nervous tourists about the spirit of Drag-a-Bone. Goodnight from Paul Ranby, hearing songs that won’t be played for a decade to come in the static between radio stations. Goodnight from Hookland.
February 1, 2026 at 10:02 PM
Goodnight from The Starfall Tavern, where Tom Rudd is earning pints by telling increasingly nervous tourists about the spirit of Drag-a-Bone. Goodnight from Paul Ranby, hearing songs that won’t be played for a decade to come in the static between radio stations. Goodnight from Hookland.
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The cat hissed at her #shadow, which seemed to be extending farther across the floor than the lighting allowed…Wicke flicked open his knife, dropping it into the humming tar. It shrieked, and so did Ellis.
“So, did you want to be possessed, or no?” he asked with a grin.
#vss365
“So, did you want to be possessed, or no?” he asked with a grin.
#vss365
February 2, 2026 at 8:26 AM
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Goodnight from Crowhythe Museum of Curiosities, where the stuffed weasels are yet again attempting to remove the velvet waistcoats imposed upon them. Goodnight from Alfie Bray, wondering if it’s too late an hour to ring the local curse-breakers. Goodnight from Hookland.
January 29, 2026 at 9:58 PM
Goodnight from Crowhythe Museum of Curiosities, where the stuffed weasels are yet again attempting to remove the velvet waistcoats imposed upon them. Goodnight from Alfie Bray, wondering if it’s too late an hour to ring the local curse-breakers. Goodnight from Hookland.
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Last year we saw an increase of graffiti depictions the Wicker King. This year colleagues in the Folklore department report an uptick in Wicker King sightings. This matter needs further study. – Sophie Morley of Woden College's Graffiti Research and Formalisation Team (GRAFT), 1983
January 30, 2026 at 12:27 PM
Last year we saw an increase of graffiti depictions the Wicker King. This year colleagues in the Folklore department report an uptick in Wicker King sightings. This matter needs further study. – Sophie Morley of Woden College's Graffiti Research and Formalisation Team (GRAFT), 1983
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On clear winter mornings, the sort where you regret wearing fingerless gloves within two minutes of being outside, I often go to the wood edge. Establish myself as a listening post. For the best conversations in witchcraft may start with a period of being quiet. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky
January 31, 2026 at 10:52 AM
On clear winter mornings, the sort where you regret wearing fingerless gloves within two minutes of being outside, I often go to the wood edge. Establish myself as a listening post. For the best conversations in witchcraft may start with a period of being quiet. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky
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Goodnight from Agnes Fane, still fretting about receiving a poison pen letter accusing her of lustfully consorting with Fairies. Goodnight from Chas Downing, dreaming yet again of barnacle-crowned skulls sitting on the seabed as they sing windjammer shanties. Goodnight from Hookland.
January 30, 2026 at 10:05 PM
Goodnight from Agnes Fane, still fretting about receiving a poison pen letter accusing her of lustfully consorting with Fairies. Goodnight from Chas Downing, dreaming yet again of barnacle-crowned skulls sitting on the seabed as they sing windjammer shanties. Goodnight from Hookland.
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Hookland is an odd county. Nowhere else in England has a tourist board happy to promote its haunted shoreline, boast of it including a record number of haunted light houses. A civic pride in phantoms is not the standard approach to encouraging day-trippers. – George Kindred
January 28, 2026 at 1:46 PM
Hookland is an odd county. Nowhere else in England has a tourist board happy to promote its haunted shoreline, boast of it including a record number of haunted light houses. A civic pride in phantoms is not the standard approach to encouraging day-trippers. – George Kindred
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Goodnight from Alice Hawes, suddenly able to read the sky’s stars as a vow of devotion to a god so ancient it’s beyond language’s memory. Goodnight from Tobe Cracken, listening to the shadows promising to show him wonders if he’ll just step outside the pub. Goodnight from Hookland.
January 28, 2026 at 10:05 PM
Goodnight from Alice Hawes, suddenly able to read the sky’s stars as a vow of devotion to a god so ancient it’s beyond language’s memory. Goodnight from Tobe Cracken, listening to the shadows promising to show him wonders if he’ll just step outside the pub. Goodnight from Hookland.