Archive Item 76 concerns the destruction of St. Cleer Police Station in 1983.

The official report claimed no survivors. That was inaccurate.

One woman, the station stenographer, Judith Hallowell walked out of Interview Room 1 moments before the entire building ignited from within. She gave a witness statement during medical observation, describing a heat event that began inside the bodies of those present and then leapt from person to person like a living force.

Three days later, Mrs Hallowell was found dead in her flat. Her body exhibited extensive burn trauma. The flat showed no signs of heat, flame, or ignition.

Her dictated statement, and a fifteen-second fragment salvaged from the fused remains of the interview tape, form the entirety of this Archive Item.

This archive item contains a single continuous field recording recovered from the crushed Zoom H6 I removed from Dr. Arlo Finch’s possession after he was found wandering the A30 in a catatonic state. What begins as a routine ambience survey at Castilly Henge quickly becomes a sequence of escalating pressure anomalies. Finch detects infrasonic pulses rising from the ditch, rhythmic fluctuations in air density, and soil movement that appears to respond as if to a buried heartbeat.

The disturbance intensifies into a layered resonance event involving RF contamination, sub-bass vibration, and a series of auditory phenomena Finch believed were the sounds of an ancient battle emerging through the mist. The recording captures distorted shouts, impacts, mass movement, and what he interpreted as the fall of a colossal figure standing up from the earth itself.

The event ends in a pressure wave powerful enough to crush the recorder’s aluminium chassis while leaving Finch physically unharmed but mentally broken. His fixation on returning giants, combined with the recurring pulse signature I have now identified in other archive items, forms the basis of my continuing analysis of this case.

The dictaphone in question was brought to me after being found on the coastal path, wrapped inside an old waterproof coat. Inside the coat were a few gardening tools and a pair of boots marked with dried mud and salt. The microcassette inside the recorder is labelled in a shaky hand: "Carter - Allotment Notes" and will become case #0003.

Only later did I trace the recording back to the eastern allotments, where one shed stood open and unattended. The conditions matched the tape’s contents, but there was no sign of Carter himself.

The entries on the tape suggest several mornings of routine gardening carried out in dense sea fog, gradually giving way to something more unsettling moving through the allotment rows.