Gleann Fala

by Victoria Penny

The village wasn't on any map.

Not in her old dusty atlas, or her roadmaps of Great Britain guide. She even tried a globe. No luck. And the internet wasn't much use either.

It would have put most people off, but not Sarah Cartwright. It was exactly the fresh start she was looking for.

She telephoned the number in the advertisement - three times before she got through, and even then the connection was so bad she could barely make out the voice on the other end. It was so distorted she couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. She understood just enough to give her name and address and was rewarded a few days later when a letter came in the post. A note thanking her for the enquiry, a preliminary tenancy agreement and a hand drawn map. The note was signed by some bloke called Barney McNair and she assumed this was the voice she'd spoken to on the phone.

Sarah's eyes bulged at the rent. It was so small that she was sure, somewhere, it must count as theft. And it was for a whole house! You couldn't rent a cardboard box for that price in London.

The following week, she packed up her meagre belongings into her tiny orange Peugeot and hit the road. A small suitcase stuffed with unfashionable but comfortable clothes and all the art supplies she could afford. She doubted the village of Gleann Fala would have its own art shop. And she planned on doing a lot of painting.

Twelve hours later, she was in the Scottish Highlands. Everything was green and hilly and Sarah felt infinitely better for it. The hand drawn map from her new landlord said the village was found about an hour north west of Inverness.

When Sarah began to drive off the main roads and onto winding, gravel topped country roads, barren of road signs and lights, she began to grow nervous. It grew dark and her tiny front lights struggled to reveal the countryside in front of her.

When she finally saw lights twinkling in the distance, Sarah let out a sigh of relief.

Gleann Fala was located in a low area between several hills. Fields of grass and wildflowers, dotted with patches of trees (well, darker patches in the landscape that she assumed must be trees), stretched all around.

The village itself was much smaller than she'd been expecting. A few houses dotted around a winding, circular road. The biggest building by far was a pub that also seemed to double as the local shop, but the windows were darkened and uninviting when Sarah pulled up outside of it. Her bright orange car felt garish and out of place amongst the quiet, simple brick buildings. No other cars - odd considering how far away they were from civilisation. She doubted the tiny shop could provide more than the basic essentials.

Sarah got out of her car, glad to stretch her legs after the long drive. Now that she was here, she wasn't sure what to do next. There were no street signs - the village was so small they didn't seem to bother with that sort of thing. There was a chill in the air, not uncommon for a late spring evening, but it felt sharp and unwelcoming and left Sarah shivering.

"Halò!"

The shout came from one of the houses. Sarah darted her gaze around and spotted shifting curtains in some of the other windows. Lights quickly extinguished, as if those inside were eager to let her know no one was home.

A woman jogged up to Sarah. Skin pale and ghostly from the moonlight. Her hair was long and brown, tied loosely into a plait that trailed down her back until it reached her waist. She wore jeans and heavy boots and a grey t-shirt that was about two sizes too big for her. Which seemed incredible to Sarah, as the woman was already quite big herself. Not overweight, but tall. One of the tallest women Sarah had ever seen and she spent a lot of time looking at other women.

A big hand thrust towards her along with the woman's looming shadow. It would have been unnerving, the woman intimidating, if it weren't for the big, friendly smile on her face. It was infectious and Sarah found herself smiling back as she shook the woman's hand.

"You must be Sarah. I'm Barney."

Sarah blinked in surprise, momentarily speechless. She had been expecting a bloke, but it turned out this woman was to be her new landlord. This shouldn't have made a difference, but Barney was so cheery, so welcoming, that Sarah's stomach fluttered like she had swallowed a moth.

Sarah's mum had been from Paisley, so she was used to a Scottish accent, yet Barney's was thicker, almost difficult to understand in places and wasn't helped by the scattering of Gaelic.

"Let's get you inside. You must be sgìth - exhausted."

*

Sarah awoke the next morning to brilliant sunlight and the smell of frying eggs. She groaned, pulling the cover over her eyes and would have fallen back asleep if her stomach had not begun to growl.

The room she was in was as plain as it had appeared in the dimness of the night. Barney warned that the electricity in Gleann Fala was never reliable, so candles were found in every drawer and Sarah was advised to carry a box of matches with her everywhere in case the power should go out in the middle of the night.

By the flickering candle light, Sarah hadn't been able to discern much of her new lodgings. Now she could see the walls were painted a dull grey, straight onto the brick work. The wooden floor scratched and worn. The bed she'd slept in had been comfortable enough, but was much narrower than Sarah was used to. It hardly mattered, however, as she wasn't exactly planning on sharing it with anyone.

The rest of the house was much nicer decorated. There was more colour, more warmth. A reasonable sized living room and kitchen. She didn't have it all to herself, as Barney was still staying in the house. Merely renting out her spare room. Over breakfast, she explained how she was trying to save up enough money to move from the village. She seemed relieved to finally have a paying tenant.

"What are your plans for today?"

"I thought I might explore the town."

Barney seemed to stiffen as she slowly rinsed her empty mug in the sink. "Well... be careful."

This statement confused Sarah somewhat, but she thought no more of it as Barney left her to it.

Breakfast demolished, she grabbed her sketchbook and pencil case and headed out.

Once again, her orange car was alone on the street and she couldn’t see any of the other villagers she felt spying on her last night. Perhaps they were all busy at work. Although where they worked and how they got there was a mystery to Sarah.

It was refreshing to finally see the landscape in full colour. All those greens and the sky a deep blue. Her fingers itched to begin sketching, but she wanted to find the perfect first spot. She decided on going up the hill someways, until the village was spread out in full view below. It wasn't the most picturesque of villages and from up here, Sarah could see the winding street forming a strange figure of eight shape. The grass she traipsed across was almost up to her knees, the wildflowers in full bloom. She inhaled deeply; fresh air, earth and that faint floral scent. It was heavenly.

What she had believed to be a patch of trees in the dark last night turned out to be a circle of standing stones. Sarah had never visited any before, despite the UK being dotted all over with them.

She hurried towards them, amazed at how they towered over her. They were cold to touch, rough beneath her palm. No stone was the same as another and the circle they formed was perfect. It was about ten metres in diameter and in the centre was a smaller rock, not as grey as the others, but more brown. Sarah perched upon the edge of it, opened her sketchbook to a fresh page.

Time slipped away as she made sketch after sketch, capturing the individual stones in every detail. While she drew, she wondered what they could have been for. Her history lessons from school were long ago, but she recalled old Mrs Pentigast going on about druids. Sarah remembered frowning at pictures of Stonehenge, her imagination wild as she pictured portals opening to other realms. In reality, her teacher had told them solemnly, the stones were likely used as a place of worship.

"Hoi! You!"

The voice startled Sarah so much she dropped her sketchbook and pencil.

A man was stomping towards her, coming up the hill from the village.

"What do you think you’re doing?" he demanded. "What're you doing here?"

Sarah introduced herself, but the man didn't appear mollified to find out she was the new lodger in the village. He grunted at her, his eyes narrowed and dark. The look on his face screamed distrust and he didn't offer up his own name.

"You'll stay away from here, if you know what's good for you," he growled, then muttered something in Gaelic.

Flummoxed, Sarah gathered up her sketchbook. She could feel the man's eyes on her the whole way down the hill back to the village.

Soon she met other villagers. Although, perhaps met wasn't the right term for it. Nobody actually bothered to introduce themselves, despite Sarah putting on her friendliest smile. All she received in return were glares and suspicious looks.

Sarah had always imagined small villages to be friendly and welcoming. Meeting Barney's warm smile last night and her easy going manner had convinced Sarah of this even more. Turned out she was wrong. Barney appeared to be a bit of a village anomaly.

When Sarah mentioned this to her that evening, Barney only shrugged.

"We don't get many visitors here."

This wasn't surprising, considering Gleann Fala couldn't be found on any map.

"Just stay out of everyone's way and you'll be fine."

Sarah thought this was rather easier said than done considering how small the village was.

*

Her first week in Gleann Fala was spent exploring and sketching, although she never returned to the standing stones. The man that had first accosted her there seemed to be always lingering around that area. Sarah couldn't figure out what he was up to and came to the conclusion that he could only be there to ward her off. Did he think she was going to vandalise them or something equally deliquentile?

The man was beyond odd and scared her more than a little. The rest of the village was more of the same. It wasn't just the blatant hostility. There was something strange about Gleann Fala and its residents that Sarah couldn't quite put her finger on.

It wasn't until the second week of her stay, her mind wandering aimlessly as she painted, that she realised what it was.

There weren't any children in Gleann Fala.

Not only that - there weren't any old people either. No one looked over the age of fifty. The man who guarded the standing stones (as it was obvious now that was what he was doing) was the oldest looking person she had come across and he didn't look a day over forty five.

The next few days were spent surreptitiously watching her new neighbours. If they weren't in the pub or their own houses, they were huddled together in the street, heads ducked as they murmurred to each other while shooting angry glances to the house Sarah stayed in.

She wasn't wanted here. That was very clear. It was easy to keep to herself though and Sarah was used to a solitary life. She had her art and the whole countryside for a muse.

"How many villagers are there?" Sarah asked one evening over a bowl of vegetable stew.

They had agreed to split the cooking, which was a bargain for Sarah as she was a terrible cook and Barney was excellent. She’d opened a bottle of wine and filled up both their glasses. The power was out again, so they sat in twinkling candle light. Whatever romantic atmosphere might have been brewing was quickly usurped the moment Sarah asked the question.

Barney stopped eating, muscles stiff as she stared at her bowl. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious."

"Curiosity isn't a good thing around here," Barney said and, as was often the case, her tone held a hint of warning. It unnerved Sarah, but not enough to keep her quiet.

"And why is that?"

Barney sighed and put down her fork, pushed the bowl away. "It just isn't."

"But-"

"I've lost my appetite." Barney stood from the table, snatching up her unfinished meal. The stew went in the bin and the wine down the sink. Sarah felt a pang of disappointment in her gut that had nothing to do with her unanswered questions.

Sarah didn't sleep well that night. Tossing and turning and dreams filled with shadows and echoing shrieks. She awoke some time after midnight, her head pounding from the bottle of wine she had finished by herself. Staggering out of bed, she fumbled for the light before remembering the power had gone out last night. 

Despite only being here a few weeks, the path to the bathroom was now familiar to her even in the dark. Sarah relieved herself and quickly washed her hands in stark cold water. Then she cupped some of it in her palm and gulped it down. It tasted peaty and stale and did nothing to ease the nausea building up in her stomach. She'd have to beg Barney to get her some paracetamol in the morning. If Barney was still speaking to her.

Because she was thinking of her landlord, her eyes were automatically drawn to the bedroom down the end of the hall where she slept. The door was ajar and Sarah thought she could spy a faint light. If Barney was still awake... Sarah moved before she could change her mind, wanting to apologise for her incessant questions. Not because she wasn't curious, but because it seemed to upset the other woman so much.

"Barney?" Sarah whispered and nudged the door. It creaked open to reveal a dark, empty room. Sarah frowned at the perfectly made bed that hadn't been slept in.

A flash of light dotted the window. Sarah crept towards it. She assumed it must be coming from the house opposite, as the village had no street lights, but the building across was dark and empty looking. She looked from side to side, trying to see as much of the village as possible.

There! Up the hill. Lights. Several of them. Gathering at the standing stones.

Sarah dashed back to her room, pulling jeans and a hoodie over her pyjamas, grabbed the candle from her bedside before changing her mind. Whatever the villagers were up to, she didn't want to give them any warning of her coming.

Sarah hurried from the house, making her way up the hill in a quick march. There was indeed light up there; her eyes could pick out the individual shapes of human figures. Some held candles, others battery powered lanterns. It was difficult to make out who anyone was.

Sarah crouched low on the crest of the hill, her knees sinking into the cold, damp grass. One of the figures moved, revealing the person beside them. Sarah bit back a gasp. The villager was wearing a long black robe and, over their face, a horrid wooden mask, painted red. Two eye holes and a tiny slit where a mouth would be. They were all wearing the same thing.

Sarah shivered and held her breath. Fear was a potent thing now. Yesterday, the village and its inhabitants had been merely odd. Tonight, she was convinced something more sinister was going on.

The villagers were speaking in hushed tones - rapid Gaelic she couldn't understand. But then she heard a voice she knew and her heart sank. Barney...

Whatever the villagers were up to, she was part of it.

Suddenly, Sarah didn't want to know. She wanted to retreat, go home, back to London where everything was normal and familiar and people didn't hate her just for being there.

"I told you to keep away from here."

The voice came from behind and a thick hand clamped her upper arm, pulling her to her feet.

"Get off me!" Sarah screeched. The man's grip only tightened. She should have known he'd be keeping watch for her.

Her cry had alerted the others. More hands grabbed her, pulling her into the circle. Sarah tried to get free, but there were too many of them. She was pushed onto her knees in front of the centre stone as the villagers gathered around her. More Gaelic as they began to chant. Tighearna dorcha. Tighearna dorcha.

Sarah was crying now, terrified. But the villagers hid behind their masks, uncaring. 

The man who had caught her spoke, moving around the inner circle of villagers. Something flashed in his hand. A knife.

Sarah trembled.

"Tonight," he intoned, "we give sacrifice to our lord, the Dark One."

Sarah screamed.

The knife came down and she closed her eyes. No pain came and she hoped that she had died instantly. But when she opened her eyes, she was still in the circle. The village leader was still in front of her, but he had frozen. The knife in his hand became loose, fell to the ground. Sarah gaped and then noticed the tip of another knife protruding from the man's chest.

Then, that voice she knew: "Run."

For once, Sarah heeded the warning.