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The Great Oak Tree

The great oak tree on the Celtic Homestead braced itself against a chill wind, now sharp and scouring. Thin branches at its crown waved like a drowning man’s arms searching for something to cling to. Leaves, unable to resist being pulled first one way then the other by variable blasts of wind, released their fragile-looking grips. It was as if the tree, in a desperate effort to salvage something from the situation, had jettisoned them to search for a safe place.

The leaves and their cargos of acorns shimmered in the greying light as they fell. After the storm, the tree stood like a crucified martyr against a dark brooding sky. Then Nature abandoned its ill-tempered little fling and launched into a passionate affair.

Thunder and lightning raged in the upper atmosphere! Positive and negative atoms smashed into each other with increasing ferocity, violating the air around. For hour after hour, opposing forces of nature battled against each other, causing a boiling mass of clouds – infused with the energy of countless souls allowing themselves to be drawn in – to spread across the sky.

From prehistoric man who discovered how to make fire, down through the age of Greek philosophers and scholars; to the mathematical genius of the Chinese; the heroic conquerors of lands such as Genghis Khan and Alexander the Great; down through the age of the Roman Empire; the Renaissance and the greatest empire the world had ever seen – the British Empire – souls were returned to Earth via lightning which exploded from the sky, with the Druid targeting the great oak tree as the destination for his energy and that of the other souls.

A person startled by the ear-splitting crackle would have looked up in awe as a bolt of golden lightning in the shape of the letter Y seemed to reach out from the heavens before accelerating to strike the uppermost branches of the great oak tree.

Telepathic energy surged through every branch and fibre of the tree until bursting through its roots and into the ground. Finally, the great oak tree lay defeated in smouldering pieces.

What remained cooled. The swollen, bubbling sap-filled veins contracted, but whereas the electricity had dissipated, the energy of the souls, including that of Pythagoras, remained in the coagulating mess.

In the years to come, any person who came into contact with remnants of the great oak tree, a splinter more often than not, would become a host to the memories – or soul – of a dead person. That person would not even realise the splinter was there until after the memories had infused their blood, and reached their brain. Some were the memories of people whose religious faith had kept them going in times of persecution and they would use their energy to support people who felt marginalised.

But other memories had also been drawn into the transmigration, malevolent memories, who would use their evil power to create havoc in the minds of the people they infected.

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