I could tell you of my novels, I could go on endlessly about how good they are and how much you would like them but how would you know. The mask has to be pulled away and you need to gaze deeply into them. Of course I still wish people to buy them and so will not give them away for free. Some Like "The Shed" which is only a novella of some sixty pages or so took me only a month or two to write and so is priced accordingly. "The Secret Inside" however, took nearly three years to write. and I could wax lyrical about how good it is but I shall not, rather I shall try to tempt you and impress you by adding a number of short stories to this site that hopefully will encourage you to read more of my works and then you will want to buy a book. If you do not then that is fine as well, Meanwhile read some short stories provided by me and friends for free.
I hope that you enjoy them.
I hope that you enjoy them.
I will add the first here but there will be other pages to follow with better and more involved tales. I have added this one here simply because it is one of the first short stories I ever wrote, it is naive, rather ill formed and not that great over-all yet it was one that started me on this road and so I still like it. I hope you will forgive it its inadequacies.
Of the Caledonian Forest and a walk on a Summer’s Day
Chapter One.
With aching feet and my bad knee paining me terribly I return to the car, spend twenty minutes trying to reverse to a turning spot and head back to the campsite. I have brought only the small tent out here, I don’t think the cars suspension would have survived these roads with all the gear I usually carry. I always bring far too much for a camping trip, between the tent itself: a large two bed-roomed model to the chairs and cooking utensils; no roughing it for me. Down, I think, to a sense of duty ; I also take a small two-man tent, which has barely enough room for two people to sleep in, but has more than enough, for one. Then I get back to nature, I leave all the bulky stuff at the main camp with my children and girlfriend and set out to do the getting back to nature stuff. Basic equipment only, sleeping bag and camping mat, mini cooker, fly rod, for food and a good torch; though this has run out of batteries and there is nowhere to buy them here.
Then its time to myself; I do some sightseeing and some hill walking, generally whatever I want to do. Two days on my own is a good thing I think. There are no bars out here, well there are no shops or anything else for that matter either, but it is not shops I am thinking of at this time; a cold beer or two is playing on my mind. I settle for a cup of tea, the things you have to do for the love of nature. There are only two other hikers tents on the site, both small, easily erected and storm proof. You need that in Scotland; the weather is rather unpredictable, I have seen sunny days that, (makes me think of the James Taylor song), deteriorated into high winds and rain at very short notice. I think Scotland probably was the proof in the pudding for the saying “four seasons in one day” The hikers frown at me, imagine bringing a car out here? that wastes things, I suppose they are thinking, but I need to. I am not as young as them and cannot now hike for days on end carrying everything on my back. You would need to walk for a good couple of days to get here, as it is nearly forty miles from the closest bus stop and much farther to the nearest shop or village.
The showers don’t work on the site and the two toilets are filthy. I have to use the toilets but figure on missing out the showers. I’m by myself and you rarely notice your own stink. I go to sleep dirty but sleep well none the less, down probably, to the exertions of yesterday. When I wake it is raining heavily and grey, the sea harr thick here. So I walk a little away, though I guess it is not necessary; one tent has gone and I hear snoring from the other and I shower in the rain, it is cold but feels good and I hate being dirty despite my earlier thoughts. I dry myself enough to don shorts then return to the car to dry myself off completely and re-bandage my knee. I think I have probably done some damage to the cartilage, but it is only sore and weak, it doesn't seem to be too badly damaged. Anyway I have walked long distances in the past with it in worse condition than this. My clothes stick to me all over and due to the heat in the car I start to sweat almost immediately. Still I am cleaner than I was and now invigorated. I am ready for another day.
It was hardly worth drying myself and cleaning up, my clothes get soaked and muddy as I pack the tent away, the rain now a torrential downpour, even though the day is warm and I am quickly sweating again.
1.
I drive through the forest paths very slowly as the ground can flake away, it is heavily rutted and though my car can handle light off-road work you really need a four wheel drive vehicle to negotiate these roads easily. There are forests all around, not newly planted with lines of trees leading off into the distance perfectly spaced, but ancient oak woods. I still have most of the day before I have to get back to the main camp so I stop at the side of the forest.
All the trees are laden with water though the rain has pretty much stopped now. It is still warm, a moist heavy heat. Mist curls around the tops of the trees and the far edge of the Cairngorms mountain range can be seen in the distance. Proud, the tops still snow covered even at this time of year. The wind seems to have disappeared with the rain. It is remote here as I have said and this forest is one of the few remnants of the ancient Caledonian Forest that once covered all of Scotland. It stood for thousands of years before men came with axes to cut it for warmth and building materials. It still covers hundreds of acres here and looks and feels truly ancient. It is too good to just leave and I decide to go for a walk through it. I take some readings to know how to get back and start out, I have gotten lost in forests before, after a while all trees look alike, so I make sure I know the way back. The best idea I have found is to check for a distinctive mountain and know where it is in relation to your car. Alternatively if there is nothing obvious then try to find east by the sun and note that, only in faerie stories and in the densest forest can’t you see the sun and this is no faerie story just a walk in the woods in summer.
I climb out of the car pick up my rucksack which has some food and water in it and try to find a trail entering the forest. I am prepared to just force my way in; I have good clothes built for this kind of thing and stout boots but it is easier to just find a trail if you can. Most forests are usually riddled with sheep and cow trails and this remotely regularly with deer trails. It takes me a while and I have to backtrack a little along the road, but finally find one. I am not sure anyone has ever been here, there are only deer trails, not even sheep have reached here I guess, there is no sign of litter left by other walkers or tourists. I am already dirty from packing, so a little more mud won’t hurt me, but I will have to be careful of my knee, if it goes I will have to crawl back for no-one will ever find me here. Apart from the rustle of the wind, the occasional cry of a bird and the distant sound of the sea on the Loch Sunart there is no noise, the silence is both beautiful and strange. I think we forget that places can be so quiet. In our daily bustle of work and city life we forget peace. Even in our sleep we grow used to the distant sounds of cars and hose alarms going off. Of bins being collected and people walking home from the pub we learn to screen it all out. We just ignore it, it is unnoticed that we even have until times like this.
There are no sounds of small animals in the undergrowth, I wonder why, but the trees here and brush is different from the normal and perhaps does not attract small animals in the same way as other forests. Despite the stillness and the fact that it is muggy; the heat is actually oppressive under the trees, there seems to be few midges and insects. This is something I am extremely grateful for. The midge is a small gnat, which seems to be prolific in the West of Scotland. They are not poisonous or anything too bad but they congregate in their millions when it is still and they bite pretty viciously for something so small. I am told they feed on the heather, which grows so abundantly on the West Coast, but I don’t know if that is true.
2.
Imagine though a small cloud of a million or so biting insects flying around you, that doesn’t leave you for hours and each bite swelling to a small but particularly itchy lump. I have seen people who after a short walk look as though they have not yet recovered from Small Pox. There are many people who have cut short holidays in Scotland and sworn never to return because of them.
3.
Chapter Two.
You can buy repellents of course, but they are expensive and don’t really work very well. They have even taken to selling mosquito mesh hats here to at least protect your face and eyes, for some reason midges seem to like flying into your eyes. At times I have seen them so bad that you breathe them in with each breath and later when blowing your nose another million appear in your snot. So you can see why I am grateful that there are few around. It is unusual though, I know, as they usually gather under trees on still days, after rain, especially in such calm conditions. I think perhaps their wings are too frail to stand a brisk wind.
This is no forestation meant for harvesting, this is real forest, the trees are all Oaks and Silver birch interspersed with the occasional Horse Chestnut and Wild Scots Pine. The ground cover is mainly moss, lichens and fungi, coupled with wide swathes of fern, I have read that these ferns are so simple in construction that they have survived from before dinosaurs walked the earth, but I cannot tell you if this is true. I hope it is for it seems right to me that they have done so in a place such as this.
The ground is very wet. I begin to see the odd young holly bush amongst the oaks, as I walk, all are small, but something must have seeded them. There are no animals to be seen and the birds seem to fly overhead without ever landing, I can’t even see nests in the trees. I had hoped to see a Pine Martin while walking, as I have never seen one, they are rare and elusive now, but there is nothing. Nothing at all, even the deer tracks have disappeared. I am now wandering through untamed forest, having to force a path and I have been here for a few hours, I worry that if I cannot see the sky, I may be unable to find my way back to the car when darkness falls. Still that must be hours away I started out early. Damn, my watch has stopped, still it can’t be later than noon and there is no rush to get back. The forest is lovely, the pines have all but disappeared, replaced by more oak and holly, I must be getting nearer the first holly bush, as they are getting larger, some are even up to chest height now.
There are types of fungi I have never seen before. They are brown and grey and look wet to the touch some growing very large on the odd piece of rotted wood or even directly from the ground in the odd place I can see. The lichens and moss are growing more abundant as well, as the ground is getting wetter; they almost suck at my feet now and the sound is disgusting especially again the quiet here.
I find a lightening struck tree that has died and clear space to sit and eat. I need to rest my knee anyway, it is getting more painful by the second and the last thing I need is for it to give way, especially when I have lost my bearings. I scan the Forrest canopy looking for a break in the trees where I can see the sun but it is so overcast that even the few patches of sky I can see are an unrelieved grey. It is depressing that I did not get to see it in the sunlight for in my opinion sunshine can make a place feel better immediately. In this grey hazy twilight everything seems so dismal.
4.
Well I will eat then start making my way back, I might not be able to see the sky but I can see the path where I have stood on the moss. The moss covers almost everything now, even to four and five feet up the trees. “The bloody mist is closing in,” I think to myself and then mutter out loud. I realise that this is the only sound everything is still and quiet. There is nothing, nothing at all, not a sound except that of my own breathing. As quiet as a grave.
The wind has died to nothing and I can’t even hear the birds now. I listen for animals moving but can’t hear a thing. I feel like singing to break the silence, remind myself I am alive, but I don’t, how can you disturb a peace like this. I just sit and listen for a while; there is nothing, nothing at all. I realise I can’t even hear the sea anymore; the mist must be dulling the sound. Lovely though it is, it is time to walk back to the car because it may take a little longer when I have to follow my incoming footsteps, so I pick up my pack and start out. I have not walked far through the clinging moss when I come across a deer skull and a pile of bones; nothing unusual in that, you find sheep and cow carcasses all over Scotland, especially in the wild, they have just wandered off. It is more unusual to find one of a deer but it happens occasionally, the strange thing is the bones seem to be piled neatly on top of each other with the skull resting on the top. Coincidence? It would be very strange. Plus usually rats, mice, well whatever, come and eat and whats left of the dead animals, they tend to scatter the bones in my experience. This is very unusual; perhaps someone has left it as a marker, to show they have been here. I am a little disappointed to think this, there is something strangely appealing about being the first person ever to walk somewhere.
To be the very first ever in any place though I cannot think why. It’s lucky I can see my footprints in the moss, had there still been the ferns I would never have found my way out. I am going slightly up hill now and my knee aches all the more with the ascent so I rest it more frequently. There’s a problem; the moss is so springy that as I leave the split tree my footprints begin to disappear in front of me. No worries, it’s not serious, just a bit more bother. To find my way out I will have to descend to the sea and follow the shore till I can find a track. I had considered this before but had discarded the thought, as it will take much longer but it looks as though I do not have a choice now. If I continue trying to guess where the car is, especially in this mist I may never find my way out.
The good news is that it is much easier going now that I am going down the slope; the bad news is the mist is getting thicker, it is impossible to see the tops of the trees now. The ground is becoming indistinct even, but as long as I keep going downhill, I will eventually reach a stream or the sea; either will do as all streams flow to the sea eventually. It may meander a little with it but it now strikes me as better than spending the night here. It is very eerie with the silence, even my own footsteps seem hushed now, and the mists, they have grown much worse all I can see are the tree trunks immediately in front of me. I have to be careful of the holly now, they are still getting larger and I have already a couple of scratches on my face and legs from getting too close to them.
5.
Chapter Three.
There are many more now than there was on entering the forest. Your mind plays terrible tricks on you in the silence; I start thinking that the holly bushes were the favoured plant of witches and were used in many of their rites. Silly, I shake it off and continue walking; the going downhill has eased my bad knee. “Thank god for small mercies” I think, but I haven’t been that lucky, the ground is evening out and I have now had to circle so many holly bushes that I have lost any idea whatsoever of where I am going. It is silly not to go on though, all I have to do is find a stream and at least the knee has eased with the downhill trek. It is impossible to know what time it is, as I have been walking for quite a while, all I know is that it is not dark yet, had it been I would have been completely blind. It is just as misty and the holly has become more profuse, some of the bushes are huge, the leaves look black in this light and they are to prickly to push through so I have to find my way around them. I find them quite intimidating.
Moss covers everything now, when I look closely even the branches of the oaks, as they hang above my head, are covered in it.
There is a stench of rotting wood and vegetation in the air, There are still no sounds, complete silence, no mice, no nothing. I can understand the lack of birds as it would be silly to fly in this mist, never mind silly; fatal. Their instincts must stop them from doing so. But no animals, that is strange, I have walked many woods in my time, I enjoy them and you don’t always see the animals but you always hear them going about their little lives. Even when it is dark, the small animals tend to be quiet but their predators are out and one or another you always hear occasionally.
I have heard neither for quite a while. It cannot be my scent as there is no wind to carry it, even though I must be reeking by now, with not even getting a full shower this morning. I am sweating quite badly but do not want to remove my coat, I am cut enough by the holly without exposing more flesh. I suddenly realise that it is getting dark, not just the mist now but actual darkness and I know I will have to find somewhere to sleep; I don’t want to lie on the moss, although soft it looks somehow unhealthy and smells awful. I don’t even know now if I have made any progress at all. Trying to find somewhere to sleep will be difficult, I can’t see well enough now to find the next tree, but I have to try. I think I will just have to lie on the moss anyway, there just seems to be nothing else, I have been wandering for ages and it is fully dark now. There is no moon, or if there is I cannot see it for the mist. Shit! Shit! That hurt. Just when I had started moving downhill as well. What the fuck is that? My shin is hurting like hell and I can’t even see what I’ve walked into. I am able to find my lighter, which helps only a little but all I can see is a flat rock. It seems to be about five feet long by three feet wide. As I walk round it I am gladdened by the fact I found it, there seems to be no moss on it, perhaps moss does not attach to granite. I think its granite, which is unusual on this coast. All the towns of the east and the far north are made of granite, but the rock is more porous on the West Coast. Indeed Aberdeen in the Northeast is known as the Granite City; most of the houses there are built with it, there is such an abundance. Over here in the west however, it is unusual, but as good a find as I can think of at the moment with the possible exception of a hotel, or a bar.
6.
A bar, a bar, my kingdom for a bar I think in a sudden moment of hilarity one that dissipates even with the luck of my find into the stillness and gloom. I would give anything not to lie on that moss, the rock will be harder but it somehow just feels a little safer a little cleaner. I clamber upon it. It reaches to about two feet off the ground, and though rather uneven, I am glad of its stability in this sea of mist. I fumble around in my day sack and though I am not lucky enough to find an unknown light or torch in there; I find my travel cooker. The cooker consists of only a small square of lightweight metal in which you place four long burning candles. It is not good enough to cook a meal on but it is enough to heat small quantities of food. I know I have a tin of soup, so that’s the food taken care of and with the candles, light as well I should be grateful for the small things. There is no wind to blow them out but it now seems such a shame to me to spoil the stillness and darkness with light. But food and light take priority over the stillness so I light the candles. I had thought I was going downhill again though I could not be sure, it was now apparent that I was. My rock was sitting in the middle of a small hollow perhaps fifty feet in diameter; in the glow of my candles it looked almost perfectly round and ringed with holly. The really strange thing though was that I could not see a break in the holly bushes where I could have entered. Ah well, not to worry, I will find it in the morning.
The stone sat right in the middle of the hollow, and I was lucky; the mist had not descended this low despite my feeling of earlier. Perhaps it was the warmth or the light of the candles scaring the small animals, or just my noise blundering around, I don’t know, but I heard scurrying, this startled me, as it had been so quiet for so long. With soup warming my belly and knowing the sounds of the woods, after the initial surprise it was actually quite reassuring. Now that I thought of it I could hear a quiet rustling from, well it seemed to be coming from below me, but that must have just been the way the hollow echoed the noise. I am sitting on a rock after all. I looked around, it was almost like being in some fairy grotto, the holly all around the rim of the bowl looked like a sheet of black, so the light from my candles illuminated only the hollow. The hollow seemed like almost everywhere else to be full of that horrible moss but with nothing else in it, up to a few feet from my stone where it turned to bare earth. I wondered at the lack of holly in the bowl, perhaps the seeds had just not blown down here, though that seems unusual to me. There were the sounds of small animals coming from all around now, in the dark it seemed rather scary but perhaps they just didn’t like the mist as well so only moved places like here where they were out of it. It was really odd the way the echo worked though; the noises still seemed to be coming from below me. Anyway, who cares, I’m tired and small animals are not going to hurt me, even if it is rats the worst I will get is a nip and I will awake and they’ll run. Not a problem. My leg is really sore from where it hit the stone and I see I have skinned it quite badly and I am growing a large purple bruise. Doesn’t matter, it will have to wait till morning and anyway, I have to blow out these candles just in case the mist has not lifted tomorrow and I have to spend another night in the forest. I don’t mind so much now, I am not hungry and I can always light them again if I have to. As I blow out the candles, the scurrying noises increase, but as I say, small animals won’t hurt me.
7.
I keep the last candle lit for a little longer trying to see what they are, but they seem to be under the moss and nothing is visible in the dim light of the candle. Not that I would normally see them anyway, mice are very secretive creatures in my experience.
With my backpack under my head as a pillow I blow out the last one. The noise seems to increase ten fold but I think that it probably is my imagination; the woods are always creepy at night at the best of times. With this mist they are eerie. I am so tired though, that it matters less than it usually would. It is really odd though the way the sound seems to be beneath me. I am beginning to drift into sleep with the mishaps of the day running through my head, thinking about the bruise on my shin. Dreaming of mist and bruises and holly and that unholy moss. Wait a minute, I sit bolt upright I never hurt my toe, I hurt my shin, My shin, why not my toe? Surely I would have kicked the stone first and the noises. The noises are definitely coming from beneath me. The stone is not sitting on the ground it must be held up by blocks or other stones, strange. It is all I can think of and decide to look and see. It would just be my luck if there were a rat’s nest or something directly beneath me.
I light one candle and look to the base of the stone, it is indeed held up by two stone blocks running crosswise, there is a space approximately a foot high underneath it. It is too perfect to have been made by anything other than man. So I am not the first to be here after all, oh well, that’s probably a good thing, at least they must have found their way out. I try to peer under the stone without getting to close to it, I definitely don’t want a rat jumping at me. I try to see if there is anything underneath it, there are many of these stones in Scotland the countryside is littered with them and many of them conceal burial chambers or ancient habitations. It is too dark; I cannot really see a thing.
I jump back with fright, a shadow moved in the hollow under the stone, I could have sworn I saw eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. I fell crunching into the moss, eyes still fixed intently on the hollow below the stone but there is nothing there, and it has been all my imagination to much mist dark and bad dreams. I put my hands down on the moss to push myself back to my feet and cut my hand quite badly, there is broken glass under the moss. So much for being the first here, that was rather silly, wasn’t it, I think wryly. I move my hands to other places to stand but they are jabbed through the moss there to. I take hold of a handful of it, ripping it away from the ground so I can see where is safe to put my hands, the moss stinks as I tear it up its foetid smell making me cough. I put my hands on the ground even with the pain levering myself to my feet in fear, no longer worried about the cuts, no longer worried if I cut them more. It wasn’t glass under the moss but bones, all broken bones, some old, some newer judging by the colour, but the ground is littered with them.
The moss is feeding on the dead flesh sucking the bones clean. I am horrified and jump up onto the stone again away from it. The rustling grows louder again, this time filling me with fear, there is something just not right about this place. I look over the edge of the stone, and see what fills me with dread. There are hands grey and withered with age, pushing out from under the stone, the nails digging into the earth at the sides, clawing at the ground, heaving a body out and into the hollow, then another and another.
8.
I wonder as I feel their hands move over my legs what they are, I wonder why they are here and try to scream as they pull at me.
Witches and druids walked these woods, I now know, amongst many nameless things, things left from before. From before the coming of civilisation and the car and telephones and all the other things that have made the world seem smaller. They were from before I know now, From Before. Things from ancient times, I give them no name at all. I know not when, I can only call it “before”. Some of the beasts, the things, creatures.
They found ways to survive, to preserve themselves. Some returned to waking when druids sacrificed on stones like this one, the blood awakened them. I am still the me that lived today but I am now something more, I don’t have a name now, names don’t matter. But people will give me a name when they look from their windows on dark nights, when they step on the old stones. Oh yes, then they will give me a name, and frighten their children to sleep with it.
Chapter One.
With aching feet and my bad knee paining me terribly I return to the car, spend twenty minutes trying to reverse to a turning spot and head back to the campsite. I have brought only the small tent out here, I don’t think the cars suspension would have survived these roads with all the gear I usually carry. I always bring far too much for a camping trip, between the tent itself: a large two bed-roomed model to the chairs and cooking utensils; no roughing it for me. Down, I think, to a sense of duty ; I also take a small two-man tent, which has barely enough room for two people to sleep in, but has more than enough, for one. Then I get back to nature, I leave all the bulky stuff at the main camp with my children and girlfriend and set out to do the getting back to nature stuff. Basic equipment only, sleeping bag and camping mat, mini cooker, fly rod, for food and a good torch; though this has run out of batteries and there is nowhere to buy them here.
Then its time to myself; I do some sightseeing and some hill walking, generally whatever I want to do. Two days on my own is a good thing I think. There are no bars out here, well there are no shops or anything else for that matter either, but it is not shops I am thinking of at this time; a cold beer or two is playing on my mind. I settle for a cup of tea, the things you have to do for the love of nature. There are only two other hikers tents on the site, both small, easily erected and storm proof. You need that in Scotland; the weather is rather unpredictable, I have seen sunny days that, (makes me think of the James Taylor song), deteriorated into high winds and rain at very short notice. I think Scotland probably was the proof in the pudding for the saying “four seasons in one day” The hikers frown at me, imagine bringing a car out here? that wastes things, I suppose they are thinking, but I need to. I am not as young as them and cannot now hike for days on end carrying everything on my back. You would need to walk for a good couple of days to get here, as it is nearly forty miles from the closest bus stop and much farther to the nearest shop or village.
The showers don’t work on the site and the two toilets are filthy. I have to use the toilets but figure on missing out the showers. I’m by myself and you rarely notice your own stink. I go to sleep dirty but sleep well none the less, down probably, to the exertions of yesterday. When I wake it is raining heavily and grey, the sea harr thick here. So I walk a little away, though I guess it is not necessary; one tent has gone and I hear snoring from the other and I shower in the rain, it is cold but feels good and I hate being dirty despite my earlier thoughts. I dry myself enough to don shorts then return to the car to dry myself off completely and re-bandage my knee. I think I have probably done some damage to the cartilage, but it is only sore and weak, it doesn't seem to be too badly damaged. Anyway I have walked long distances in the past with it in worse condition than this. My clothes stick to me all over and due to the heat in the car I start to sweat almost immediately. Still I am cleaner than I was and now invigorated. I am ready for another day.
It was hardly worth drying myself and cleaning up, my clothes get soaked and muddy as I pack the tent away, the rain now a torrential downpour, even though the day is warm and I am quickly sweating again.
1.
I drive through the forest paths very slowly as the ground can flake away, it is heavily rutted and though my car can handle light off-road work you really need a four wheel drive vehicle to negotiate these roads easily. There are forests all around, not newly planted with lines of trees leading off into the distance perfectly spaced, but ancient oak woods. I still have most of the day before I have to get back to the main camp so I stop at the side of the forest.
All the trees are laden with water though the rain has pretty much stopped now. It is still warm, a moist heavy heat. Mist curls around the tops of the trees and the far edge of the Cairngorms mountain range can be seen in the distance. Proud, the tops still snow covered even at this time of year. The wind seems to have disappeared with the rain. It is remote here as I have said and this forest is one of the few remnants of the ancient Caledonian Forest that once covered all of Scotland. It stood for thousands of years before men came with axes to cut it for warmth and building materials. It still covers hundreds of acres here and looks and feels truly ancient. It is too good to just leave and I decide to go for a walk through it. I take some readings to know how to get back and start out, I have gotten lost in forests before, after a while all trees look alike, so I make sure I know the way back. The best idea I have found is to check for a distinctive mountain and know where it is in relation to your car. Alternatively if there is nothing obvious then try to find east by the sun and note that, only in faerie stories and in the densest forest can’t you see the sun and this is no faerie story just a walk in the woods in summer.
I climb out of the car pick up my rucksack which has some food and water in it and try to find a trail entering the forest. I am prepared to just force my way in; I have good clothes built for this kind of thing and stout boots but it is easier to just find a trail if you can. Most forests are usually riddled with sheep and cow trails and this remotely regularly with deer trails. It takes me a while and I have to backtrack a little along the road, but finally find one. I am not sure anyone has ever been here, there are only deer trails, not even sheep have reached here I guess, there is no sign of litter left by other walkers or tourists. I am already dirty from packing, so a little more mud won’t hurt me, but I will have to be careful of my knee, if it goes I will have to crawl back for no-one will ever find me here. Apart from the rustle of the wind, the occasional cry of a bird and the distant sound of the sea on the Loch Sunart there is no noise, the silence is both beautiful and strange. I think we forget that places can be so quiet. In our daily bustle of work and city life we forget peace. Even in our sleep we grow used to the distant sounds of cars and hose alarms going off. Of bins being collected and people walking home from the pub we learn to screen it all out. We just ignore it, it is unnoticed that we even have until times like this.
There are no sounds of small animals in the undergrowth, I wonder why, but the trees here and brush is different from the normal and perhaps does not attract small animals in the same way as other forests. Despite the stillness and the fact that it is muggy; the heat is actually oppressive under the trees, there seems to be few midges and insects. This is something I am extremely grateful for. The midge is a small gnat, which seems to be prolific in the West of Scotland. They are not poisonous or anything too bad but they congregate in their millions when it is still and they bite pretty viciously for something so small. I am told they feed on the heather, which grows so abundantly on the West Coast, but I don’t know if that is true.
2.
Imagine though a small cloud of a million or so biting insects flying around you, that doesn’t leave you for hours and each bite swelling to a small but particularly itchy lump. I have seen people who after a short walk look as though they have not yet recovered from Small Pox. There are many people who have cut short holidays in Scotland and sworn never to return because of them.
3.
Chapter Two.
You can buy repellents of course, but they are expensive and don’t really work very well. They have even taken to selling mosquito mesh hats here to at least protect your face and eyes, for some reason midges seem to like flying into your eyes. At times I have seen them so bad that you breathe them in with each breath and later when blowing your nose another million appear in your snot. So you can see why I am grateful that there are few around. It is unusual though, I know, as they usually gather under trees on still days, after rain, especially in such calm conditions. I think perhaps their wings are too frail to stand a brisk wind.
This is no forestation meant for harvesting, this is real forest, the trees are all Oaks and Silver birch interspersed with the occasional Horse Chestnut and Wild Scots Pine. The ground cover is mainly moss, lichens and fungi, coupled with wide swathes of fern, I have read that these ferns are so simple in construction that they have survived from before dinosaurs walked the earth, but I cannot tell you if this is true. I hope it is for it seems right to me that they have done so in a place such as this.
The ground is very wet. I begin to see the odd young holly bush amongst the oaks, as I walk, all are small, but something must have seeded them. There are no animals to be seen and the birds seem to fly overhead without ever landing, I can’t even see nests in the trees. I had hoped to see a Pine Martin while walking, as I have never seen one, they are rare and elusive now, but there is nothing. Nothing at all, even the deer tracks have disappeared. I am now wandering through untamed forest, having to force a path and I have been here for a few hours, I worry that if I cannot see the sky, I may be unable to find my way back to the car when darkness falls. Still that must be hours away I started out early. Damn, my watch has stopped, still it can’t be later than noon and there is no rush to get back. The forest is lovely, the pines have all but disappeared, replaced by more oak and holly, I must be getting nearer the first holly bush, as they are getting larger, some are even up to chest height now.
There are types of fungi I have never seen before. They are brown and grey and look wet to the touch some growing very large on the odd piece of rotted wood or even directly from the ground in the odd place I can see. The lichens and moss are growing more abundant as well, as the ground is getting wetter; they almost suck at my feet now and the sound is disgusting especially again the quiet here.
I find a lightening struck tree that has died and clear space to sit and eat. I need to rest my knee anyway, it is getting more painful by the second and the last thing I need is for it to give way, especially when I have lost my bearings. I scan the Forrest canopy looking for a break in the trees where I can see the sun but it is so overcast that even the few patches of sky I can see are an unrelieved grey. It is depressing that I did not get to see it in the sunlight for in my opinion sunshine can make a place feel better immediately. In this grey hazy twilight everything seems so dismal.
4.
Well I will eat then start making my way back, I might not be able to see the sky but I can see the path where I have stood on the moss. The moss covers almost everything now, even to four and five feet up the trees. “The bloody mist is closing in,” I think to myself and then mutter out loud. I realise that this is the only sound everything is still and quiet. There is nothing, nothing at all, not a sound except that of my own breathing. As quiet as a grave.
The wind has died to nothing and I can’t even hear the birds now. I listen for animals moving but can’t hear a thing. I feel like singing to break the silence, remind myself I am alive, but I don’t, how can you disturb a peace like this. I just sit and listen for a while; there is nothing, nothing at all. I realise I can’t even hear the sea anymore; the mist must be dulling the sound. Lovely though it is, it is time to walk back to the car because it may take a little longer when I have to follow my incoming footsteps, so I pick up my pack and start out. I have not walked far through the clinging moss when I come across a deer skull and a pile of bones; nothing unusual in that, you find sheep and cow carcasses all over Scotland, especially in the wild, they have just wandered off. It is more unusual to find one of a deer but it happens occasionally, the strange thing is the bones seem to be piled neatly on top of each other with the skull resting on the top. Coincidence? It would be very strange. Plus usually rats, mice, well whatever, come and eat and whats left of the dead animals, they tend to scatter the bones in my experience. This is very unusual; perhaps someone has left it as a marker, to show they have been here. I am a little disappointed to think this, there is something strangely appealing about being the first person ever to walk somewhere.
To be the very first ever in any place though I cannot think why. It’s lucky I can see my footprints in the moss, had there still been the ferns I would never have found my way out. I am going slightly up hill now and my knee aches all the more with the ascent so I rest it more frequently. There’s a problem; the moss is so springy that as I leave the split tree my footprints begin to disappear in front of me. No worries, it’s not serious, just a bit more bother. To find my way out I will have to descend to the sea and follow the shore till I can find a track. I had considered this before but had discarded the thought, as it will take much longer but it looks as though I do not have a choice now. If I continue trying to guess where the car is, especially in this mist I may never find my way out.
The good news is that it is much easier going now that I am going down the slope; the bad news is the mist is getting thicker, it is impossible to see the tops of the trees now. The ground is becoming indistinct even, but as long as I keep going downhill, I will eventually reach a stream or the sea; either will do as all streams flow to the sea eventually. It may meander a little with it but it now strikes me as better than spending the night here. It is very eerie with the silence, even my own footsteps seem hushed now, and the mists, they have grown much worse all I can see are the tree trunks immediately in front of me. I have to be careful of the holly now, they are still getting larger and I have already a couple of scratches on my face and legs from getting too close to them.
5.
Chapter Three.
There are many more now than there was on entering the forest. Your mind plays terrible tricks on you in the silence; I start thinking that the holly bushes were the favoured plant of witches and were used in many of their rites. Silly, I shake it off and continue walking; the going downhill has eased my bad knee. “Thank god for small mercies” I think, but I haven’t been that lucky, the ground is evening out and I have now had to circle so many holly bushes that I have lost any idea whatsoever of where I am going. It is silly not to go on though, all I have to do is find a stream and at least the knee has eased with the downhill trek. It is impossible to know what time it is, as I have been walking for quite a while, all I know is that it is not dark yet, had it been I would have been completely blind. It is just as misty and the holly has become more profuse, some of the bushes are huge, the leaves look black in this light and they are to prickly to push through so I have to find my way around them. I find them quite intimidating.
Moss covers everything now, when I look closely even the branches of the oaks, as they hang above my head, are covered in it.
There is a stench of rotting wood and vegetation in the air, There are still no sounds, complete silence, no mice, no nothing. I can understand the lack of birds as it would be silly to fly in this mist, never mind silly; fatal. Their instincts must stop them from doing so. But no animals, that is strange, I have walked many woods in my time, I enjoy them and you don’t always see the animals but you always hear them going about their little lives. Even when it is dark, the small animals tend to be quiet but their predators are out and one or another you always hear occasionally.
I have heard neither for quite a while. It cannot be my scent as there is no wind to carry it, even though I must be reeking by now, with not even getting a full shower this morning. I am sweating quite badly but do not want to remove my coat, I am cut enough by the holly without exposing more flesh. I suddenly realise that it is getting dark, not just the mist now but actual darkness and I know I will have to find somewhere to sleep; I don’t want to lie on the moss, although soft it looks somehow unhealthy and smells awful. I don’t even know now if I have made any progress at all. Trying to find somewhere to sleep will be difficult, I can’t see well enough now to find the next tree, but I have to try. I think I will just have to lie on the moss anyway, there just seems to be nothing else, I have been wandering for ages and it is fully dark now. There is no moon, or if there is I cannot see it for the mist. Shit! Shit! That hurt. Just when I had started moving downhill as well. What the fuck is that? My shin is hurting like hell and I can’t even see what I’ve walked into. I am able to find my lighter, which helps only a little but all I can see is a flat rock. It seems to be about five feet long by three feet wide. As I walk round it I am gladdened by the fact I found it, there seems to be no moss on it, perhaps moss does not attach to granite. I think its granite, which is unusual on this coast. All the towns of the east and the far north are made of granite, but the rock is more porous on the West Coast. Indeed Aberdeen in the Northeast is known as the Granite City; most of the houses there are built with it, there is such an abundance. Over here in the west however, it is unusual, but as good a find as I can think of at the moment with the possible exception of a hotel, or a bar.
6.
A bar, a bar, my kingdom for a bar I think in a sudden moment of hilarity one that dissipates even with the luck of my find into the stillness and gloom. I would give anything not to lie on that moss, the rock will be harder but it somehow just feels a little safer a little cleaner. I clamber upon it. It reaches to about two feet off the ground, and though rather uneven, I am glad of its stability in this sea of mist. I fumble around in my day sack and though I am not lucky enough to find an unknown light or torch in there; I find my travel cooker. The cooker consists of only a small square of lightweight metal in which you place four long burning candles. It is not good enough to cook a meal on but it is enough to heat small quantities of food. I know I have a tin of soup, so that’s the food taken care of and with the candles, light as well I should be grateful for the small things. There is no wind to blow them out but it now seems such a shame to me to spoil the stillness and darkness with light. But food and light take priority over the stillness so I light the candles. I had thought I was going downhill again though I could not be sure, it was now apparent that I was. My rock was sitting in the middle of a small hollow perhaps fifty feet in diameter; in the glow of my candles it looked almost perfectly round and ringed with holly. The really strange thing though was that I could not see a break in the holly bushes where I could have entered. Ah well, not to worry, I will find it in the morning.
The stone sat right in the middle of the hollow, and I was lucky; the mist had not descended this low despite my feeling of earlier. Perhaps it was the warmth or the light of the candles scaring the small animals, or just my noise blundering around, I don’t know, but I heard scurrying, this startled me, as it had been so quiet for so long. With soup warming my belly and knowing the sounds of the woods, after the initial surprise it was actually quite reassuring. Now that I thought of it I could hear a quiet rustling from, well it seemed to be coming from below me, but that must have just been the way the hollow echoed the noise. I am sitting on a rock after all. I looked around, it was almost like being in some fairy grotto, the holly all around the rim of the bowl looked like a sheet of black, so the light from my candles illuminated only the hollow. The hollow seemed like almost everywhere else to be full of that horrible moss but with nothing else in it, up to a few feet from my stone where it turned to bare earth. I wondered at the lack of holly in the bowl, perhaps the seeds had just not blown down here, though that seems unusual to me. There were the sounds of small animals coming from all around now, in the dark it seemed rather scary but perhaps they just didn’t like the mist as well so only moved places like here where they were out of it. It was really odd the way the echo worked though; the noises still seemed to be coming from below me. Anyway, who cares, I’m tired and small animals are not going to hurt me, even if it is rats the worst I will get is a nip and I will awake and they’ll run. Not a problem. My leg is really sore from where it hit the stone and I see I have skinned it quite badly and I am growing a large purple bruise. Doesn’t matter, it will have to wait till morning and anyway, I have to blow out these candles just in case the mist has not lifted tomorrow and I have to spend another night in the forest. I don’t mind so much now, I am not hungry and I can always light them again if I have to. As I blow out the candles, the scurrying noises increase, but as I say, small animals won’t hurt me.
7.
I keep the last candle lit for a little longer trying to see what they are, but they seem to be under the moss and nothing is visible in the dim light of the candle. Not that I would normally see them anyway, mice are very secretive creatures in my experience.
With my backpack under my head as a pillow I blow out the last one. The noise seems to increase ten fold but I think that it probably is my imagination; the woods are always creepy at night at the best of times. With this mist they are eerie. I am so tired though, that it matters less than it usually would. It is really odd though the way the sound seems to be beneath me. I am beginning to drift into sleep with the mishaps of the day running through my head, thinking about the bruise on my shin. Dreaming of mist and bruises and holly and that unholy moss. Wait a minute, I sit bolt upright I never hurt my toe, I hurt my shin, My shin, why not my toe? Surely I would have kicked the stone first and the noises. The noises are definitely coming from beneath me. The stone is not sitting on the ground it must be held up by blocks or other stones, strange. It is all I can think of and decide to look and see. It would just be my luck if there were a rat’s nest or something directly beneath me.
I light one candle and look to the base of the stone, it is indeed held up by two stone blocks running crosswise, there is a space approximately a foot high underneath it. It is too perfect to have been made by anything other than man. So I am not the first to be here after all, oh well, that’s probably a good thing, at least they must have found their way out. I try to peer under the stone without getting to close to it, I definitely don’t want a rat jumping at me. I try to see if there is anything underneath it, there are many of these stones in Scotland the countryside is littered with them and many of them conceal burial chambers or ancient habitations. It is too dark; I cannot really see a thing.
I jump back with fright, a shadow moved in the hollow under the stone, I could have sworn I saw eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. I fell crunching into the moss, eyes still fixed intently on the hollow below the stone but there is nothing there, and it has been all my imagination to much mist dark and bad dreams. I put my hands down on the moss to push myself back to my feet and cut my hand quite badly, there is broken glass under the moss. So much for being the first here, that was rather silly, wasn’t it, I think wryly. I move my hands to other places to stand but they are jabbed through the moss there to. I take hold of a handful of it, ripping it away from the ground so I can see where is safe to put my hands, the moss stinks as I tear it up its foetid smell making me cough. I put my hands on the ground even with the pain levering myself to my feet in fear, no longer worried about the cuts, no longer worried if I cut them more. It wasn’t glass under the moss but bones, all broken bones, some old, some newer judging by the colour, but the ground is littered with them.
The moss is feeding on the dead flesh sucking the bones clean. I am horrified and jump up onto the stone again away from it. The rustling grows louder again, this time filling me with fear, there is something just not right about this place. I look over the edge of the stone, and see what fills me with dread. There are hands grey and withered with age, pushing out from under the stone, the nails digging into the earth at the sides, clawing at the ground, heaving a body out and into the hollow, then another and another.
8.
I wonder as I feel their hands move over my legs what they are, I wonder why they are here and try to scream as they pull at me.
Witches and druids walked these woods, I now know, amongst many nameless things, things left from before. From before the coming of civilisation and the car and telephones and all the other things that have made the world seem smaller. They were from before I know now, From Before. Things from ancient times, I give them no name at all. I know not when, I can only call it “before”. Some of the beasts, the things, creatures.
They found ways to survive, to preserve themselves. Some returned to waking when druids sacrificed on stones like this one, the blood awakened them. I am still the me that lived today but I am now something more, I don’t have a name now, names don’t matter. But people will give me a name when they look from their windows on dark nights, when they step on the old stones. Oh yes, then they will give me a name, and frighten their children to sleep with it.