Gran never liked talking about her childhood home. "Whole village went to rot," she would spit out, face curdled and mood spoilt for the rest of the day. It was as much as we ever got out of her, we never even knew the name of her village until she died and we found her birth certificate hidden under a false brick by the fireplace.
We had her cremated-our little family tradition. The other main one is bringing ash back to the birthplace, which Gran brought over from her old home. Seemed only fitting that we carry it on in her place. We were meant to take her to Lagbury, oldest recorded village in England and located somewhere in the Lake District, according to every map-site we found. No specific directions though which made it damned near impossible to bring her ashes there for a final goodbye.
In the end we had to aim for the closest named place and ask for directions from everyone we encountered. We didn't even realise why they gave us such suspicious looks until we got there and found out exactly what Gran had meant when she said it had gone "to rot".
Where we expected a quaint little village to be was instead a deep crater with deeply sloped, pitch black sides and the remains of several buildings that sluggishly oozed the same dark ichor as the rest of the place. Nothing moved in there, not a single noise was heard aside from the occasional drip.
We just did what any uninformed people would do - we dumped her ashes and fled.
How were we meant to know she'd just come back?
How were we meant to know she'd have company?
We had her cremated-our little family tradition. The other main one is bringing ash back to the birthplace, which Gran brought over from her old home. Seemed only fitting that we carry it on in her place. We were meant to take her to Lagbury, oldest recorded village in England and located somewhere in the Lake District, according to every map-site we found. No specific directions though which made it damned near impossible to bring her ashes there for a final goodbye.
In the end we had to aim for the closest named place and ask for directions from everyone we encountered. We didn't even realise why they gave us such suspicious looks until we got there and found out exactly what Gran had meant when she said it had gone "to rot".
Where we expected a quaint little village to be was instead a deep crater with deeply sloped, pitch black sides and the remains of several buildings that sluggishly oozed the same dark ichor as the rest of the place. Nothing moved in there, not a single noise was heard aside from the occasional drip.
We just did what any uninformed people would do - we dumped her ashes and fled.
How were we meant to know she'd just come back?
How were we meant to know she'd have company?
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