Showery Tor
The horse came to a standstill and Mary bent down and patted its drenched coat. Not far to go now, she hoped. She could just make out a light in the distance. How far it was, she could not tell. It was time to take stock of where she was. The mist had come down hard and it was clinging to the inside of her lungs making it hard and painful to breathe.
The wind was lashing against her coat penetrating with the rain. It hurt. The air thinned a little, and a large black shape insinuated itself into her consciousness. How sinister it looked, towering above. The wind blew and the mist swirled and out of the fog came the Tor, like Titanic out of a shroud of steam. It made her shudder. She would have thought it impossible to feel colder yet ice ran down her spine. There had been tales around these parts about the Tor and hapless travellers, all she had dismissed, but something quite primeval made her want to just get away. Escape this Tor and its malevolent magnetism.
“Afternoon m’am.” The voice came from nowhere.
Mary frantically looked for the man, but saw no-one. Her coat felt like a boa constrictor had shrunk onto her tiny frame.
“Yes?” she forced herself to say as confidently as she could muster.
“Bad day m’lady”
“Sorry where are you ?” ... and still she could not see. Her eyes hurt from the strain.
“I’m over her m’lady, sat on the Tor.”
The enveloping mist cleared a little more and she could make out the hunched dishevelled pile of clothes that made up this man.
The location of where the voice had come from did not bring comfort. She tightened her hands on the reins.
“You look lost...can I ‘elp you m’am?”
No no, I am not lost.” She found it irritating the way he was deferential to her it smacked of an age old chivalry but underneath lay something much more sinister.
“No... I am just taking a short rest... I will soon be on my way.” Mary knew this sounded desperate but he had unnerved her and his presence echoed the forlorn nature of the imposing Tor. They were as one. centuries old and equally foreboding.
“These are dangerous parts young miss.... you be careful.”
This reassurance triggered fear. This was not a sentiment said to ease but of something quite black.
“Come on Jess, time to go.”
And with a quick kick Mary made to gallop off into the whiteness. It swathed around her, swallowing.
The old man called out.
“What’s the hurry? Don’t you want to talk to ol’ Ez?”
She turned in the saddle and glanced back. The world was white, and in it’s cloak there was a sense of safety.
“Come on Jess, let’s get home”
With that the horse snorted and gave a little extra and a little distance. Home seemed a long way away now.
......
After a while they slowed down to a trot and Mary allowed herself to give some thought to what had just passed. It crossed her mind that perhaps she had acted rashly, maybe the old man had wanted or needed some help. This was not a day to be out in, but he had seemed quite relaxed. In fact it seemed to her that to be ther was the most natural place for him to be. It struck her that this was a peculiar thought. In fact it all seemed pretty peculiar. She pulled on the reins and stopped. She listened. There was no sound except their breath in unison. Should she go back?
Would she actually be in danger if she did?
Could she carry on?
“Oh damn these thoughts........ I’ll probably regret this!”
Propelled by a sense of compassion Mary swung the horse round and urged Jess back down the well worn moorland path, back to the Tor. They went at a steady trot. Mary although having made the decision, was actually in no hury to arrive at the destination. It filled her with trepidation.
Sooner than she had intended, she was upon the Tor. It arose out of the hardened ground. Its blackness in stark contrast to the stony terrain with it’s armour of snow. Timeless in it’s duty as a land mark, a sentry for the centuries. Walking the horse around the Tor she called out.
“Hello?... Hello?”
“Hello? Where are you?” No reply.
“Hello? You must be here..... I’ve only been gone about 5 minutes!”
She listened. Still no sound.
“Hello..... hello......”
Her voice felt like it was being sucked from her, into the vacuous void of time.
Suddenly it struck her.
“He’s not here!”
Mary slowly and tentatively dismounted. She patted Jess. In comforting Jess she comforted herself. She was not alone. Holding onto the reins she cautiously walked over to the Tor. The crisp snow crunched underfoot. It would normally have been a satisfying sense, but now it echoed her thoughts of unease at unexpectantly finding herself in this desolate place.
Now, she did not want to bring attention to herself.
Out there in the mist was the old man.
Where was he?
What was he doing?
Was he watching her? Involuntarily she shivered.
“Don’t be silly. Maybe he has gone home too... what do you think Jess?”
Jess was eating the grass. At this point she should have got back into the saddle. Instead she was drawn to the Tor and was strangely entranced by it’s uneven, craggy texture. She had never been this close before and started to run her fingers over the surface. Trailing them into the ravines and coarse raised edges. The abrasive unevenness interspersed with prickly lichen. Slowly she made her way round the Tor, until she came to where the old man had been sitting. Here were more ripples in the solidified magna. Her fingers traced the movement of the lava. Where the winds had buffeted it, the surface was smoother, feeling quite round and curiously soft. It enthralled her. Troubled she suddenly jumped back, nearly losing her balance on the uneven ground. From here she leaned forward and peered closer at the rock’s riven surface. She could just make out what she thought was an eye.
“Don’t be silly.... it can’t be........”
She looked even closer tentatively stepping a little closer and gave the undulating lines further examination.
“It’s amazing !.... Jess, it looks.... just like a................. face!”
Her nose was almost touching the rock. On this close scrutiny, she could just make out it’s expression. It was a well worn face, looking craggy but, had the disposition of kindness and wisdom. Her trepidation started to melt away from her and in floated thoughts of how wonderous nature was to carve this edifice without design or reason, just a phenomenon. A millennium of elements passing by. The rain, the ice, the wind all playing their part. Absorbed in these thoughts until something struck her quite disturbingly....
“Oh my god! ...........it’s.........HIS face!” “Oh my god Jess ...Oh my god”
Instinctively her hands went to her mouth as she breathed wildly. Her heart pounded against the inside of her tightened coat and her head throbbed. Mary stumbled back onto a thicket of prickly moorland heather as her legs buckled underneath her. She sat there motionless and weak except for her heavy breathing.
Jess continued unperturbed to munch on the clumps of grass. This occupation had fully engrossed him. He had found it very much to his liking.
Slowly, Mary’s senses poured into her consciousness. The first back was the feeling of piercing pain in her legs, she looked down and saw blood trickling out. The barbs had caught her. It was instinct that made Mary jump up out of her thorny seat. But she was still unsteady and due to it’s proximity the Tor was the dependable support for her to lean on. She came back to being face to face with the image of the old man. Her hand trailed weakly over his face then dropped to her side. Gradually her breathing became less laboured. She quietly resolved that it was time to leave. As she went to move away her hand was caught. She looked down and saw her hand was trapped in one of the ravines. In vain she tried to free it. Mary looked into the Tor’s face, it had become animated. A smile softened the hard edges of the rock. It was a sympathetic smile. But her hand was held fast. As she wriggled to get free she took in what was holding her there, it was a hand. Much larger muscular hand and it pulled her. Pulled her into the rock’s chest, his chest. Shocked paralysis made resistance futile. Mary was drawn into the Tor. Into it’s rippling dark mass. Drawn into it’s darkness. Peace transcended her. She was no more.
Jess looked up from the clump of grass that had recently been absorbing his attention. Slowly rhymically chewing he watched the Tor and to his eye he saw the contours slowly, imperceptibly rearrange themselves until finally it came to a halt. Looking back at him with the carved beauty of a marble statue was his mistress.
On the other side of the Tor unseen to anyone a bundle of what looked like clothes tumbled out from the rock and rolled over the crisp white snow coming to a stop next to a tuft of gorse. Out of the bundle arose a figure. He stood erect in his breeches and tail coat. With his tricorn hat he gently beat the dust and snow off his clothes. Then with a flair that only young men have he placed the hat onto his head at a jaunty angle and slowly pondered the landscape. He breathed the air in long and deeply enjoying the sensation. Savouring it’s coldness and allowing it’s freshness to flow through his body. He then let out a sharp ‘come hither’ whistle. Jess ear’s pricked up and trotted round the Tor. Horse and man came face to face, and they both liked what they saw.
“I wonder.......”
The man put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a little white rock and offered it to Jess. Jess liked sugar and allowed him to pat his neck.
“Hello Jess .... My name is Ezra”
(1730)