Forge Zine Summer Solstice 2020 Edition 8

r e m m Su e c i t s l So

@ForgeZine

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2020

Editor's well wishing Hello all, we hope that you, your family and friends are all well and safe. We hope that this edition brings you some form of happiness and a brief break from the craziness that is our current lives.

We would like to take this time to thank each and every person who has done absolutely nothing. We don't feel that enough appreciation is tossed around for those who stay inside and work on self set tasks or do nothing but watch television and play games all day long. So to all of you we thank you. Naturally and of course our deepest gratitude also goes out to all key workers and everyone who has been working through this pandemic. Please enjoy your coronavirus pause!

This new issue is exciting! We have the great pleasure of announcing a brand new publishing company! Keep flicking for more information. As well as oh so elegantly reminding you of GreenTeeth's newest book Unhomely. We are also very proud to say that we have published our very first script. Check it out!

Midsummer Around this time of year, Pagans all over the world are celebrating the Summer Solstice, also known as Litha (from an apparent Anglo-Saxon name for the time of year around June/July). As a Pagan myself, this is one of the most important times in the year for my personal practices, and is extremely important to so many others, too.

The Summer Solstice is the time when the day is longest and the sun, the source of light and life on planet Earth, seems to shine brightest. The weather is hot, and all the world is alive. The flowers are in full bloom, fruits are swelling on their branches ready for the harvest and all the wildlife is rushing around under the heat and the blue sky. The soil, cracked and dry, is held together by tight bunches of white roots, fed by springtime storms.

This is a time to celebrate light and life, and to enjoy the beauty of nature.

Offerings and rituals are performed in honour of various Gods and Goddesses associated with the sun, or for the Earth itself. We watch the sun rise and set, bask in the daylight and celebrate with bonfires and shared meals in the evening. We give thanks for the sun and the light it brings, for without this light nothing on our planet could live. We give thanks for the growth taking place in all parts of the natural world, and for our own spiritual growth over the past season.

Of course, the Solstice also marks the point in the year where the days begin to get shorter and the cold night-time takes hold. For now, though, let us be thankful for the brightness and warmth summer brings. Happy Midsummer and a blessed Litha to all who celebrate it.

Thank you to the members of the Kith of the Earthen Star, a Pagan group based in York, for their insight and perspectives on why the Summer Solstice is so important in our Pagan way of life. They can be found over on their website at kith.weebly.com or on Facebook by searching ‘Kith of the Earthen Star’.

James Rance

The Plagues 430 BC.

Part I

Invisible, it crept through the port of Piraeus, hot on the heels of warfare, mingled in with salty air and sea foam. Athens rose on the horizon; a sequestered city, encapsulated by the Long Walls. A perfect Petri dish.

Slowly, surely, then quickly, then raging, it crawled through windows and doors and walls, and into mouths and eyes and ears and minds. Thucydides, who survived, described a “livid burning�; walking, living, fires pitched themselves into cold, clear water to relieve the angry, red pain; into wells, into oceans, into rivers, into fountains. Desperation clawed at the inner flames until no more will remain. Athens; a city on the way to victorious battle, lost its strategos, Pericles, and with him, the war with Sparta, brought to its knees not by the reckoning of warfare, but by the reckoning of nature.

Athens; a city on the way to greatness, lost half of its life blood, the vessels of the city, the individual made whole again beneath the ground. It returned again, and again, hungry for blood and flames and ash, and the people of Athens burned along with it. Later, much later, we would learn from this.

Lillie Beecroft

K. Eliza's 'Get out of my room: isolation work 2020' collection Part One

Wise words from Teri Anderson...

One Or Two Idiomatic Fetishes

Thoughts on you

The torturers A summer city kept the young woman confined, In a world that does nought until her nose hairs grew But talk and take There is always colour in the air. to an extraordinary length.

Orange in the heated haze Life emerging from the green This took several years Purple and pink in the signs that smile back at of take-out food your eye and slop bucket emptying, Meters and miles of colour a few meandering conversations In the stone metropolis The hum and the bustle bring rose to my about palable slights. cheeks

The traffic outside Silver and grey towers protect from winds heard nothing, eventuallyThat allow the leaves to dance with grace at my shaking the building feet

like an unsteady hand.

Emotions for armour I embrace the feeling, worn on my sleeve Now quite lascivious

the nose hairs were ready, The simmering feeling, a mind at peace? pithied outward down The outside world is imminent The connotations of nature, the smell of the turtleneck chest. cinnamon One youngish participant That lingers on your body, the spectrum of a city. acquiesced then phones All that is in feminine, the fire brigade extolling trucks That even in the warmth, redder than her lipstick kisses.

Feels as sharp as winter.

Colin James

Thomas Markham

The Augury

James Rance

Triggerman Fantastic NOTE: This script has been amended for space reasons.

INT. DINGY BAR - DAY The swing doors CLATTER open. Standing in the harsh daylight is a MAN. MAN Any one of you lowlifes Jack Wyatt?

The bar patrons barely seem to register his existence.

MAN I said, any one of you lowlifes Jack Wyatt?

The man reaches into his jacket and pulls a 1911 pistol. BANG! Fires into the air. This wakes up a few of the patrons.

MAN Any man who points at Jack Wyatt, right now, earns himself a hundred twenty gild, no questions asked.

A dozen hands whip around to point at JACK, sitting in the back of the room sipping a drink.

JACK Aw, hell, boys.

He kicks over the table and takes cover behind it, firing blindly, hitting one of the patrons in the arm. The man dives behind another table, taking aim. The patrons aren’t leaving, aren’t getting out of the way.

MAN Get out of here!

PATRON How will you pay us?

The man rolls his eyes.

MAN Honor system, wait outside!

He ducks behind the table as the patrons file out. He’s in his early 20’s, a square-jawed dude who seems to swagger even when he’s ducked behind a table. Jack squeezes off a few more shots, then ducks as the bounty-hunter returns fire.

A door opens on the gallery floor above and a flamboyantly-dressed WOMAN (31) emerges. She leans on the railing and looks down at the battle below.

WOMAN Deacon?

The man, DEACON Quarrie, looks up at her. He’s pleased, if confused, by her presence.

DEACON Diane!

He ducks as bullets whistle past his head, returning fire blindly.

DIANE What the hell are you doing here?

DEACON Working! What the hell are you doing here?

DIANE I was here first!

She pulls a knife from an ankle sheath and throws it at Jack. He ducks, leaving it vibrating in the wall.

JACK Miss Elysiana! What’s come over you?

Deacon fires again, the shot hissing past Jack’s brow. He falls back with a yelp.

DEACON Miss Elysiana?

Jack snaps open his gun. Ejects the empties with a clink.

At the sound, Deacon and Diane glance at each other, then both sprint towards the frantically-reloading Jack.

As Deacon leaps the flipped-over table he collides with Diane, knocking him off-course, leaving the two in a heap.

Jack dashes away and upstairs, keeping his gun trained on the two bountyhunters.

He laughs abrasively. Ducks into the open door.

INT. BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS Jack dives to the floor and grabs a shotgun. He pumps it (ejecting a perfectly good shell) and trains it on the door. From outside the window, a curious sound. Like TINY ENGINES. Jack goes to the window. Outside is a FLYING FOP, garishly dressed in a fitted scarlet suit. Attached to his back is a jetpack. He waves at Jack, then produces a small orb with a flashing red light on it. Tosses it through the window. Jack fires at the dandy, but it’s too late: he’s flown away. The orb beeps twice. Jack flinches. Looks again.

The red light has gone.

JACK Your bomb’s a dud!

He picks it up, shaking it. It rattles slightly.

FOP (O/S) It’s not a bomb. It’s a beacon.

JACK What?

FOP (O/S) I said, it’s a tracking beacon!

INT. DINGY BAR Deacon and Diane have just finished extricating themselves from their crumpled state.

DEACON Do you hear-?

DIANE The dogs.

They throw themselves back to the floor as the front window BURSTS OPEN. Two big, heavy-duty DRONE ROBOTS CRASH through the remains of the window, narrowly missing crushing Deacon and Diane, and make their way upstairs. Deacon and Diane sit up and watch as the lead drone kicks down the door.A shotgun blast ricochets off the metal plating. Each "dog" reveals two gun barrels, one on each shoulder.

HOLD ON Deacon and Diane’s reactions to: GUNFIRE. MORE GUNFIRE.

Finally, the dogs stop firing. The metal covers over their guns flip closed.

Deacon gets to his feet. Helps Diane up.

DEACON You alright?

DIANE I would have had him if you hadn’t showed up.

They carefully ascend the stairs. The dogs are deactivated, "snouts" pointing downwards. Deacon peers into the room. Immediately regrets it.

Suppresses a retch. Downstairs, the Dandy strolls into the bar.

FOP Say, who do I have to kill to get a drink in this place?

He grins like it’s the funniest joke in the world.

DEACON The warrants say "Dead OR Alive", Actaeon.

Actaeon shrugs.

ACTAEON Dead is easier.

541 AD.

The Plagues Part II

Charlie Plumb

The prey could not see it. Distant cousins had conquered and lain waste to their lands, ruling over the bones of those it had consumed. It felt... wanted. It had made friends throughout the years, beasts of pestilence.

Rats were its new toy, the fur to nestle in, the vessels, the hot rush of uninfected blood rushed underneath like the waves on the grain ships it was carried in. Later, much later, it would learn from this. Evolving, raging, the molecular death. It never picked its targets; simply flowed through the world like the forces that bore it. The Byzantine Empire, Constantinople, Justinian, the people, the farmers, the crops, the taxes, war, life, and death. It flew by in a blur of years. It returned every so often to its feeding grounds. It had wrought terrible power; the fire it had so enjoyed, the twisting tumorous growths, the violation of the body, jumping from one host to the next. A million, then ten, then twenty, then more. As many as it could take, forcefully casting its shadow across the tide of history.

Lille Beecroft

Months gone by

Reflections in the Transparent

I watch out across the sea Looking for you.

Looking out for imperfections.

That I always knew I’d never find. Because they never mattered.

I think about crossing the sea.

But I know I’d have to climb inside Contort myself to fit The water remains calm It knocks against the shore Not knowing what it holds If only it knew the truth.

Seconds of time slip by our fingers Like sand In An hourglass If only I knew how many Turns I had left I would have counted every grain Fallen In Love With every second

Thomas Markham

Get out of my room: isolation work 2020

By K. Eliza

The Plagues Part III 1346 AD. Poked and prodded, learning and travelling, transformed, it clung to the rat like a parasite. The sound of waves, again, stirred memories long past of burning, of flames. It liked that. It missed it. Once burrowed into the warmth again; it thought about its journey, how it followed the road of Silk and into the West. The land was scarred and pockmarked from its brothers and sisters, and it followed the traces; it sowed its own seeds along the way, flecks of death among the wheat. Wheat would grow again when it was through with its business here; soft waving fields of gold, but later, much later. The waves, the burning, the clawing desperation, the twisting terror of biology. It lasted for years, feeding, retreating, then descending on the rest. It felt insatiable. It felt hunger. It felt power. The prey was helpless beneath its organic fist. Invisible, it crawled through windows and doors and walls, and into mouths and eyes and ears and minds.

We would learn from this, but later, much later.

Lillie Beecroft

'Get out of my room: isolation work 2020' collection Part Four K. Eliza

A Derren Brown Book Review 'Happy' (2016, Derren Brown) is an insightful commentary on the self-help industry and how it is a damaging force on the human psyche. His solution is an in-depth tour of historical and philosophical ideas regarding how one ought to be happy, and how ancient ideas from Plato, Aristotle, the Stoics, the Epicureans, and many others can be harnessed and transformed into practical tools in the face of modern day life, with its distractions and constant indentations on the soul. Derren offers anecdotal evidence of the ways in which humans are psychologically wired to be harder on ourselves than we should be, or the ways in which we project our ideas about the perfect family unit onto our partner for example.

Taken from his career in hypnotism, magic, his career in TV, his interest in psychology and philosophy and his personal relationships, he presents historically proven modes of coping in a modern context. Best summarised by his example of Martha Nussbaum's transformation of the age old teaching that your soul must be that of a cliff side, with the trials and tribulations of life, represented by water crashing against it. Nussbaum (co-signed by Brown) argues we should be more porous and less sturdy. Brown's ability to write engagingly on one subject throughout a sustained length of work and blending the historical information with his own interesting tidbits creates a compelling and joyous read.

Harry J. Smith

EXCITING NEWS RIGHT HERE

We have the great pleasure and honour to announce that our very own co-founder Paul Whelan has branched out and created a new publishing company: Acid Bath Publishing. Submissions are now open until Yorkshire Day, August 1st 2020. See their Facebook page or Twitter for more information. @acidbathpublishing

@AcidBathPub

Something a little different

WARNING! May lead Name the ice cream flavours! to craving ice cream 1)

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Answers to the Spring Crossword DOWN 1) The Rite of Spring ballet premiered in this major city in May 1913 . (5) A: Paris 3) Another term for the spring equinox, meaning "fresh" or "new", word starting with a V. (6) A: Vernal 5) Ancient symbol of rebirth, believed to represent spirit of fertility, frequently appears in churches. (5,3) A: Green Man 7) The Rite of Spring is said to have caused a ____ on its opening night. (4) A: Riot

ACROSS 2) Russian composer of The Rite of Spring. (10) A: Stravinsky 4) Wiccan festival celebrating the spring equinox, shares its name with pagan Germanic goddess. (6) A: Ostara 6) Spring is considered to be the season of _____. (6) A: Growth 8) Spring equinox festivities are generally a celebration of _____. (6) A: Nature

Automatism 07: Cornfield Annuals

a bright flash and a blue flower, livestock tamed and reared under the curling sun. we rang in the cornfields like cotton-bells, sang like choux buns, shoes bunched together in the driveway. a bright flash and a blue flower, a stinger plunged under the skin by a yellow-and-black-striped hand, gentle and dainty or dauntless, thoughtless and formless, and the hand blooms open and drops the needle down the spout of the teapot.

a bright flash and a blue flower, the blackness behind your eyelids spotted with an iridescent, trembling colour. i remember the days pulled from the calendar, the months taken so cruelly, yet freed from sensation as if without any cruelty at all. without passion i will not forget the light that blazed for only a second a bright flash and a blue flower, hanging from its stem and shifting like the rays of the moon, strings whirling about a pale stone and then flopping down through the damp canopy of a distant rainforest filled with strange, long-snouted and reddened creatures, all slumbering under a latticed window. a bright flash and blue flower, a mirror broken over a compost heap for the men who toiled in the cracked mud. a feeling like a white, intricately woven curtain flicking and glowing in a june breeze: a bright flash, a blue flower and the sun above the cattle.

James Rance

Stuff (not) going down Nothing. Yet again... Therefore we decided to use this space differently. So feel free to research these websites and donate as much as you can!

LGBTQ+ Information Mindout - LGBT+ Mental health support: https://www.mindout.org.uk/ Albert Kennedy Trust - An LGBT+ youth homelessness charity https://www.akt.org.uk/ Switchboard - LGBT Helpline: 0300 330 0630 LGBT+ Domestic Abuse Helpline: 0800 999 5428 MindLine Trans+ Helpline - mental health service for transgender and nonbinary people: 0300 330 5468 Kaleidoscope Trust - supporting LGBT+ activism worldwide https://kaleidoscopetrust.com

BLACK LIVES MATTER INFORMATION Black Minds Matter. Donate to the cause through this website https://www.gofundme.com/f/black-minds-matter-uk There is also posdcasts and information about to help further on their website (http://blackmindsmatter.co.uk/) UK Black Pride Donate online though this link https://www.ukblackpride.org.uk/checkout/donate? donatePageId=5ce3e9e917f60b0001ac4c90 and see their website here https://www.ukblackpride.org.uk/ No money to donate? Watch Black Lives Matter Charity Video with ALL the adverts to donate. Also sign all the petitions you can get your hands on! Make sure you don't sign th same one more than once though because unfortunately it won't make a difference.

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