The Turn of the Seasons: Part One by K H Dawson

Author:K H Dawson [Dawson, K H]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-12-18T00:00:00+00:00

Rifted Rock

Saskia wandered in a daze, away from Cothromach Grammar, out into the cold December air, mindlessly following her white billowing breaths of air. The sun flared through the gaps in the clouds, battling against the mid-morning despair, creating a mournful sky full of scarlet warning. The fine, powdery like snow continued to fall from above; but strangely, and rather inexplicably, the ground below held little to no snowfall. It was almost as if the very path beneath her feet had been on fire – and the flames had just been extinguished.

The sad teenager had been walking for some time before she became aware of her strange surroundings. An unseasonable chill slithered up her spine. A deathly darkness surrounded her. She had somehow drifted out towards the old cemetery; the last place the sad teenager wanted to be.

The cold silence was deafening, and it appeared to take great delight in casting an icy web of deceit around the sad teenager. And then, to her horror, she thought that she could hear a thousand lost voices screaming out to her, begging her to listen, as if she was drifting to and fro in an endless game of Marco Polo. Saskia covered her ears and ran through the old cemetery, towards the huge gates at the bottom of the hill.

***

It was some time before Saskia regained control of her ragged breathing. She walked slowly beneath the strange morning light, searching for a resting place.

Finally, the sad teenager slumped down upon a worn-out rock. Despite its coat of ice, she enjoyed feeling the layers of moss clinging to the stone beneath her fingertips; it felt real, genuine – and it brought her back to some sort of reality. Slowly, her eyes adjusted to her surroundings: she had found her solace at Rifted Rock.

Saskia inhaled deeply. She felt strangely numb in response to the creeping chill; instead, she was transfixed by the remnants scattered around her. Here was a place dotted by the melancholy ruins of some ancient manor – one that had been swallowed up, long before, by some unnatural force. The sad teenager had heard such stories about the sudden, and seemingly inexplicable explosion at Burngrange Colliery, back in the summer of 1974 – less than two months before she was born. It was a terrifying ordeal, and the villagers of Cothromach feared for their lives. Pyre after pyre spread uncontrollably through the endless underground mineshafts, mercilessly preying on the hard-working men from the village.

But, according to investigation, the underground fire stopped before the old Conleth Manor.

Saskia had always felt troubled by this part of the story: it was hard to believe – looking at the leftovers of the old manor – that the raging fire from Burngrange colliery had not been responsible for such a wrackful siege.

Without warning, a distant zephyr whispered and whipped through the charred wreckage of Rifted Rock. Saskia was almost certain that she could hear a crackled voice sizzling through the unfriendly breeze.

Du är nästa… Du är nästa.

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