Contents
PREFACE i
PROLOGUE 1
CHAPTER 1
The Magic Circle 2
CHAPTER 2
The Lady Vanishes 6
CHAPTER 3
Dazed and Confused 8
CHAPTER 4
Showdown at Rileys 12
CHAPTER 5
Local Hero 16
CHAPTER 6
Dial S for Steiner 18
CHAPTER 7
The Boy-Noble Strikes Back 20
CHAPTER 8
The Witch’s Shoppe 25
CHAPTER 9
The Sorcerer’s Apprentice 30
CHAPTER 10
Of Mice and Men 32
CHAPTER 11
The Three Ruffans 34
CHAPTER 12
A Brazilian Odyssey 38
CHAPTER 13
An Offer we Couldn’t Refuse 40
CHAPTER 14
Master of the Craft 43
CHAPTER 15
Duality of Opposites 46
CHAPTER 16
In the Bleak Midwinter 49
CHAPTER 17
The Most Excellent Master 51
CHAPTER 18
Deus ex Machina 53
CHAPTER 19
Good Cop, Bad Cop 57
CHAPTER 20
To Catch a Thief 59
CHAPTER 22
Devil’s Advocate 62
CHAPTER 22
Memories of Istanbul 64
CHAPTER 23
Face Off 67
Epilogue 69
PREFACE
Steiner and the Hypnotic Cue was written to develop the corpus of
internal scripts in the English Department at Hillside School. The
purpose of said scripts being to inform and inspire further writings.
The story is a collaborative piece, initially commissioned by David
Noble. Robert O’Neill joined the project and developed many of the
themes within the story, within the structure developed by Steiner
Sanderson. David Noble added content to the work and Marie Laing
did some early reading of the script to test for fow and integrity.
Pitched at students twelve and up, it is hoped that there is enough
depth in the story to entertain across the age ranges, and that adults
can glean from it
The ‘Cue’ discusses theurgic and thaumaturgic ‘Magic’, which can be
found in the various philosophies of Wicca, Thelema/Hermeticism
or Cabbala. Our protagonist work changes in his environment, and
undergoes a process of inner transformation throughout the story.
The work is accommodated most easily in the fantasy genre. Places,
characters and times are rooted in reality, unlike, say, the Harry
Potter series, that have ‘fairy-story’ magic and events. Of course,
Rowling grounded her story in a large number of genuine places and
occult facts, much to the chagrin of Conservative Christians, who see
Rowling enticing the young and impressionable into paganism and
witchcraft.
Inducement into magic/witchcraft is not the aim of the novel; thus, an
opposing view is presented, represented by the sudden appearance
of a female Charismatic, who pronounces judgement. She functions
almost as a Deus ex Machina. (A technique oft used by Rowling
herself.) Yet, the scenario depicted realistically refects many ‘street
encounters’ with evangelicals and other proselytisers, and is essential
to the narrative. Both Pagan and Christian viewpoints are opposed
by one of the central characters, who regurgitates the stock-in-trade
diatribes found in the endless atheistic websites and books that
proliferate the media, repeating ad nauseam Epicurus’ scepticism.
The tale is told from the Protagonist’s POV, Steiner, in the frst person.
Steiner also functions as major antagonist as he operates secretly and
i
stubbornly, creating many of the plot conficts.
The style and tone pay homage to the gossipy narrative of Gibbon’s
Sunset Song and the Satire of Saki’s Short Stories.
Thematically woven into the fantasy, religious and adventure narra-
tives, the Cue explores the power of language to condition thought,
and behaviour, and provide emotional security. The psychological
framework for this was gleaned from Semiotics, Transactional Analy-
sis Scripts, Hypnotic Word weaving and NLP.
No attempt at uniqueness is intended, as this tact has a long pedigree
in story-writing, and has been made famous by A. Huxley, G. Orwell
and Philip K. Dick. The narrative machinery is forced along as our
protagonist interacts with his conditioning, which help, hinder and
betray him in turn, leaving him with the awful prospective of engag-
ing in independent thought. Indeed, it can be said that ‘The Hypnotic
Cue’, is a pun as the story’s characters live out their lives in response
to various hypnotic cues.
Hermeneutically expanded, ‘The Hypnotic Cue’ functions as an
analogy, or allegory, describing humanity’s ‘programming’, even ‘im-
prisonment’, to the various ‘Cues’ in our lives.
Similarly, the opposing philosophical themes function almost like a
historical allegory: The Occult (Paganism) is overpowered by Chris-
tianity, which is then attacked by Atheism.
The plot is simple, but the story is not simplistic. Readers should
be able to extract from the story what they bring to it. This becomes
more acute when encountering the satirical and opposing philosophi-
cal viewpoints embedded in the story.
It is told without excessive moralising.
It is hoped that the reader derives enjoyment from the story, and ap-
preciates the hours of effort involved.
Enjoy!
Robert O’Neill
ii
PROLOGUE
My name is Steinar Sanderson.
This is my story.
Now, Reader, you may think it is more like a dream than a story, as
my drama is unravelled before your very eyes, because I, and I alone,
became world snooker champion at the age of only 16—the youngest
player ever.
“How was it done?” I hear you ask. “What was so special about me?”
After all, I am just an ordinary looking boy with brown hair, weighing
some 10 stones and about 5’11’’tall. If you saw me walking down the
street, you would not even give me a second glance. Well, you might if
you recognised me from television, but I have had, I must add, some
cosmetic alterations since the last time I was in the public view. “Mon-
ey well spent,” was how a close friend described it. I am still not sure
how to take that comment.
But it’s not my appearance I wish to talk about. I have a secret that
you do not know.
Oh, for sure I will reveal my secret to you in my story, but afterwards
you must not share that secret with anyone else, so no-one will know
about it except you and me. Still like to read on? Then turn the page
and let the adventure begin…
1
CHAPTER 1
<
br /> The Magic Circle
So, here is how it happened.
I was returning from a snooker competition (it was really a pool com-
petition, and I was the organiser). Unfortunately I had lost, and was
feeling a bit sorry for myself. On my way back to my Unit at School (I
attend a residential school, which means I stay on campus), I noticed
that my Religion and Philosophy (RMPE) classroom was open. There
was yoga class on that evening. I wandered into the classroom and
watched them for a moment or two. I used to do Yoga, but it clashed
with pool and other clubs, so I quit.
On the teacher’s desk were books on this and that—an Arabic &
English Koran, a Hebrew Torah, a Greek New Testament, the Egyptian
Book of the Dead to the right; some books on philosophy and theology
lying the middle; but lying on the left hand side were three books on
Magic: The Kybalion, The Key of Solomon, and The Zohar. I had
long fancied the idea of learning a bit of magic, after all are they not
always promising money, success and fame? Who doesn’t want that? I
had helped my teacher draw some Pentacles from the Key of Solomon,
which were put on display. I had also learned a bit of Hebrew in my
RMPE lessons as well. To top it all off, I had seen a few re-enactments
on of magic ceremonies on YOUTUBE. Now was a perfect opportunity
for me to learn a bit more, and use it to my advantage.
I decided to ‘borrow’ the books. I had to be really careful with the
teacher’s books as the last time I ‘borrowed’ one it had cost me £7!!
(That’s another story, for another time.)
The yoga class never noticed a thing—they even said goodbye with a
smile and a little wave from the teacher. As I left the room with the
books in hand, I thought that perhaps the magic had started working
already!
2
The Magic Circle 3
Back in my room, I had to work quickly and return the books, so as
not to get charged a small fortune.
Then I realised my problem. I had no magic wand to ‘draw’ the
pentagrams in the air. Of course, had I planned this out properly I
would have purchased a magic wand from the witch in the village. Yes,
it’s true—there is a genuine bona fde witch who owns a magic shop
in the village where my school is located. Sometimes we go in for a
browse or to buy a herbal potion.
Quick as a fash (did I tell you I often have fashes of genius?), I took
my snooker cue out of its case and examined it carefully. It was in two
parts, like most cues, and screws together. The top part looked just
like the wands the magicians had used in the videos.
Yes, you guessed it—I used the cue as a wand.
I closed my eyes and visualised the videos we had watched in class. I
reenacted the Goetia ritual in my head, but that seemed far too scary,
being performed by ancient old men with long beards and in silly
robes, chanting in creepy voices.
I dismissed it quickly, and when I opened my eyes, all trace of it van-
ished from my mind.
I shut my eyes again, and within no time, a new picture began to form,
as I recalled another video. This time the ritual was performed by
a young girl—Akasha, she called herself. About my age, she looked
cute—not scary at all and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt just like me.
This had to be harmless enough, didn’t it? I thought that if a girl
could do it, then so could I.
To start with, I drew a circle on the foor using chalk I had ‘acciden-
tally’ taken from the art class weeks earlier. I drew a triangle inside
that. Skimming through the books, especially the Key of Solomon, I
then drew the Hebrew words on the foor, around the edges of the
circle, going over in my head how to say them as I drew.
Now, I have to be honest with you here, Reader. Sometimes in lessons
4 Steiner and the Hypnotic Cue
I did not always listen as well as I should. So when the teacher was
teaching us Hebrew, I did not pay quite enough attention, and never
really learned the difference between a Shin and a Samekh, or an
Ayin and an Aleph. Let’s just say, then, that my pronunciation was not
all it could be. But to be fair, speaking Hebrew in a Moray accent was
never going to be that accurate, was it?
I knew you’d see things my way!
For stage three, I got inside the circle and triangle and started to chant
the Hebrew words, not too loudly, of course. I didn’t want anyone
hearing what I was doing. I turned clockwise on the four points of the
compass as I spoke.
Nothing happened.
I said to myself that it was all just rubbish, echoing a discussion about
magic we had in RMPE.
I stood there like a fool. My eyes dropped to the foor. I gazed at my
artwork, delight at my artistry turned to horror, as I wondered how I
was going to clean it up. Then there were the books—how was I going
to get them back unnoticed?
I wished that sometimes I would think things through properly before
rushing ahead. I wished I hadn’t done any of this. I just stood there
feeling very sorry for myself.
Then, after a few minutes, something did happen.
My hand started to tingle—the cue felt like it was moving in my hand.
It got stronger, and seemed to shock my hand, a bit like the shocks
I had gotten from the Van Der Graph machine. I wanted to drop the
cue, but couldn’t. I wanted to shout, but did not dare.
Suddenly, there was jolt.
Then there was darkness.
I woke up in a sweaty haze when one of the unit staff, Maureen, came
into my room to see how I was. What would she say? I panicked to
The Magic Circle 5
myself, and frantically tried to wipe away the chalk-dust. There was
nothing there. It was clean. What on earth did I look like, on all fours
rubbing at the carpet? What was going through her mind seeing such
a sight?
She never did say.
I didn’t wait to fnd out. I leapt up and ignored the questions she was
fring at me. I bolted over to the cue case. It was locked and when I
opened it, the two parts of the cue were snugly ftted inside.
I scrambled around the room in, throwing over DVDS, emptying
drawers, and storage boxes, but lo and behold, the books were no-
where to be found.
What was going on?
The staff wondered if I had some sort of seizure , or a nervous break-
down. Lacking in the necessary medical expertise, the staff rushed me
to the nearest hospital.
After an eternity of waiting, a doctor shined a light in my eyes, asked
me a few questions, and then talked to a ‘consultant’, AKA a psychia-
trist, on the phone.
Did they really think I was insane? Was I mad? Pictures of straight
jackets and padded cells fashed in my mind. The other week, I had
watched Mute Witness to Murder, an old horror about a woman
imprisoned in a padded cell by a insane doctor, and I didn’t fancy
spending the best years of my life locked up as a mental case.
Left alone in an ER room, I tortured myse
lf with these fears.
Relief came only four hours later, when the decided keep me in for
observation. I was given a bed and was so exhausted by the events of
the day, the time and my imagination, that I feel fast asleep.
CHAPTER 2
The Lady Vanishes
Given the ‘all-clear’ and out of the hospital, the frst thing I did was
to check my room again. There was no trace of anything, I could not
even fnd the piece of chalk I had ‘borrowed’.
My mind was racing, trying to work it all out. It all seemed like a
dream. Perhaps I really did have a mental breakdown.
I received little comfort in my Religious Studies and Philosophy les-
son. The books were in the same place as I had lifted them (the teach-
er rarely tidied his desk. Books sat there for weeks on end).
It was time to play detective.
The lesson ended with the afternoon break. I dawdled leaving the
room. This was my usual manner and went unnoticed. When the
class emptied, I started a fake conversation with the Religious Studies
Teacher. I quickly changed subject, asking him to replay the videos on
magic, hoping to discover what I did wrong.
He looked a little puzzled, and did as people do when puzzled—he
asked some questions. I mumbled a few answers that made little sense.
Tempted as he was to ask more questions, he didn’t, agreeing to look
instead, as I had ‘shown interest’.
Showing interest was a great trick. We used it all the time to get teach-
ers and staff to do our bidding. It worked, just like magic every time.
I don’t know why I bothered with the Key of Solomon, I had all the
magic tricks I needed up my sleeve.
He looked at me blankly, and claimed the videos did not ring a bell. I
insisted, even supplying the girl’s name, Akasha. He then swore blind
he had never heard that name before. Likewise, he denied watching
the Goetia video. For a second, I couldn’t decide who was going mad,
or whether it was all down to this guy’s memory. He was always losing
6
The Lady Vanishes 7
things—keys, exercise books, worksheets, student documents and
teacher planners.
Undeterred, I pestered him some more. His patience was evaporat-
ing quickly, but in one last attempt to get rid of me, he called up his
YOUTUBE history and playlists. We checked it very carefully.
Nothing—they just were not there. Akasha had simply vanished. Had
he deleted them, or was I going nuts?
With beads of sweat forming on his forehead, he ushered me out of
the room, and rushed down the corridor to get a cup of coffee from
the staff room. It was probably about his tenth of the day. Why did he
need so much? Perhaps it was to help with his memory.
Meanwhile, I was left alone with my thoughts.
In one of those thoughts, getting those sessions with the school psy-
chologist started to look good. Perhaps I could drop a few hints, in-