The Queen of the High Fields by Rhiannon A Grist

Author:Rhiannon A Grist
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Folk Horror
Publisher: Luna Press Publishing
Published: 2021-09-15T18:28:40+00:00

Seventeen

It snowed the day of her nan’s funeral.

“At least I don’t have to worry about what to wear,” said Hazard over her wardrobe of black. It was the first thing she’d said since finding out. She stopped going to work. Didn’t even call in. Just sat in her room in our flatshare, staring at the walls.

We got to the crematorium back in Severn’s End just in time for the service, riding all the way from the city in our most respectful black outfits. No one had offered a room for us, and we couldn’t afford a hotel, so it had to be a round trip. The memorial garden looked like a black-and-white photograph in the snow. Even the order of service was monochrome.

Hafren Evans, it read, Beloved wife, sister, mother and grandmother.

I remember thinking how Hazard never mentioned her nan’s name was Hafren. I wondered if it was an old family tradition or if Hazard’s nan had intentionally been named after the beautiful, drowned goddess of the River Severn. Probably not the latter. I’d noticed how things like names trickled down the years, shedding their meaning with lost history. Anyway, it wasn’t the right time to ask.

Hazard sat close to the front with her family. I was placed at the back with the well-wishers. It was strange to be separated. I’d spent so long glued to her side, it was odd to think of us as two separate people, with separate circumstances that didn’t flow from our personal differences, but came from lives we didn’t share. It struck me that I’d never properly met Hazard’s parents. She talked about her nan a lot, but she never spoke about her mum and dad. To be fair, I never spoke about my parents either—what was there to tell? They wanted a certain kind of daughter and they got me instead. I continued to disappoint them like all children disappoint the unreasonable expectations of their parents.

I watched her family from afar, her dad sitting with crossed arms, looking anywhere but at the pulpit, an almost petulant refusal to engage with the grief of the moment. Her mum hunched over, swaying slightly, a faraway look in her red eyes. I thought perhaps the doctor had given her something, but the smell of vodka on her later confirmed that wasn’t the case. Hazard sat between them, straight-backed, steady. I turned my eyes down onto the pale blue carpet. I’d always been happier as an observer, but this time it felt wrong, like I was ogling someone else’s grief. I thought about what Hazard would see if she saw me with my family. What would she think? How would she sum me up looking at the evidence of where I came from? Then again, she’d probably never have the chance to. When the time came for a funeral in my family, my father would likely be sat on one side with his new wife and her golden-haired children, my mother would be sat on the other

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