Flod Festival

“Accounts have lately emerged of the mysterious disappearance of four men from the secluded village of Flod in Somerset, a place to which strangers are seldom encouraged to venture. The missing parties are said to have set off from a nearby hamlet on the 20th of June, with the intention of witnessing the traditional Flod Festival, which occurs upon both the summer and winter solstices.

It is alleged that the men were cautioned by several locals from the nearby village of Merefenn against entering the village, though no sufficient explanation for these warnings has yet been offered. The Rev. Mr Hawthorn refused to be drawn as to why the men were warned away from the festival, but commented: “I pray these men are soon found safe and restored to their families”

No road is understood to lead in or out of Flod, and according to official sources, no plans to build one are presently being contemplated. This is apparently due to the high risk of flooding in the surrounding country”

The Somerset County Gazette

Saturday, June 27th, 1842

RECORDING FILE 1: 07:46 FRIDAY 19 JUNE 2020

I’m in Glastonbury, on the hunt for Britain’s most secret village – where each year they hold a Summer Solstice festival that outsiders haven’t seen for 178 years. My name is Brandon, and this is ANCIENT BRITAIN.

The cab driver pulled up outside a small red-bricked church. “You sure this is where you wanted to go? There’s fuck all here, particularly during lockdown”. Brandon replied that yes, this was exactly where he wanted to be, and he then tipped the driver.

RECORDING FILE 2: 08:20 FRIDAY 19 JUNE 2020

This is the charming village of Westhay. I’m a 30-minute walk from Merefenn; hopefully, I’ll be able to find someone who knows how to get to Flod from there.

With his rucksack and tent firmly placed upon his back, he began the short hike to Merefenn. Interestingly, the only route was a dirt track that passed through fields and a small copse of trees. Merefenn was not accessible by car.

RECORDING FILE 3: 09:10 FRIDAY 19 JUNE 2020

Yeah, so just look at me rather than into the camera, and I’ll ask you a couple of questions.

Ok that’s fine

Firstly, have you ever been to Flod?

No, never. I remember as a child being warned away from the path by my mother. As children, we would dare each other to go down it, but only one of us ever had the courage to actually do it. That was Charlie, and if you ask me, he was never the same afterwards.

What happened?

He would never say, but something must have happened. There was something in his face, a hunted look.

Haunted?

No, hunted. Like you’d see in the eyes of a deer. Someone or something had hunted him like an animal, and you could see it in his eyes.

What happened to him?

Nothing really happened to him after that. He’s still in the village. But he’s a recluse. He never leaves. Not even to Westhay. Some of the villagers have to go for him.

Where can I find him now?

He lives in the house two doors down from the church, the one with the red door.

The house was rundown; there was no other way to describe it. The windows were dingy, the windowsills cracked, the paint peeling, and the roof looked like it was being held up by sheer force of will.

He knocked on the door, and almost immediately it was flung open. An old, frightened face peered out of him, with just a hint of defiance. Brandon could see the young boy who had taken the path to Flod in those eyes.

“Yes?”

“Hi, is it Charlie? My name is Brandon, and I’m planning on taking the path down to Flod today. I was wondering if I could quickly interview you for my YouTube channel?”

Brandon was fairly sure that the word YouTube had completely passed Charlie by, but the widening of his eyes meant that “Flod” had registered.

He raised the camera up and turned it on.

RECORDING FILE 4: 09:40 FRIDAY 20 JUNE 2020

If I were you, I’d turn around and walk back to Westhay, then never come back again. And I’m not saying that as a threat, I’m saying that as a warning. Don’t go to Flod

Can I ask why? What happened to you?

I haven’t told a soul in 60 years, and I’m not going to start with you. But listen to me, that festival, it’s not a joke. It’s not a bit of harmless fun. It’s real. Fucking REAL.

What do you mean?

They aren’t playing pretend. When they talk about the Old Gods, they aren’t rehearsing a play, do you understand? Turn around and get back to Westhay. Don’t go to Flod

The door slammed shut with such force that Brandon stepped back in case that damn roof decided to give up the ghost.

Since arriving in the village, Brandon had interviewed several villagers, off-camera. It turned out that the path to Flod wasn’t as secretive as he had assumed. It was simply a path that led out of the village, through some fields, and then – he assumed – straight to Flod.

RECORDING FILE 5 10:30 FRIDAY 20 JUNE 2020

I’m walking along the path to Flod. As you can see, it’s very overgrown, and there are stinging nettles that have grown as tall as me. It’s like nature itself is trying to keep me away. I plan to keep walking until I’m in sight of the village, then I’ll set up camp.

I know this sounds a bit contrived, but I really do get the feeling that I’m being watched. A couple of minutes ago, I definitely heard a branch being stepped on. It could have been an animal, but you’d think that an animal would make continuous noise. It was just one branch, and then silence.

Pretty creepy, but maybe I’m just primed to be scared if you know what I mean?

Brandon had definitely underplayed just how scared he had been when he heard that branch snap. His heart had thudded in his chest, his breath had stuck in his throat, and he experienced a full-body shiver.

His first thought was that someone had followed him from Merefenn, maybe to play a trick on him, or to chastise him for travelling down the path to Flod.

But there hadn’t been any noise afterwards, and that had really got into his head. A trick needs an audience, otherwise what’s the point? And who was there to laugh at him out here?

RECORDING FILE 6 10:37 FRIDAY 20 JUNE 2020

There’s something following me. I’ve turned my camera on, and I’m going to try to capture the sound again.

[27 seconds of silence]

I guess whatever it is must have gone. It sounded like …

[large crack]

There it is again!

[sound of footsteps getting closer and closer]

Oh, Jesus Christ, oh Fucking hell, what is that?

[silence]

Brandon turned off the camera. He listened. The huge stinging nettles that surrounded him swayed gently in the breeze. He could hear the gentle hum of bees. The sun was warm on his face.

He would just walk back the way that he had come. Then he would keep going all the way to Westhay, and then all the way to London if he had to.

He took a step forward, towards Merefenn.

Nothing happened. The bees continued to hum, the nettles continued to sway.

He took another step forward, and then another.

CRACK

Suddenly, the nettles either side of him toppled to the ground, footsteps beat loudly upon dry earth.

He broke into a run. Nettles stung his arms, his hands, his face. He didn’t care, all he could think was that he needed to get back to Merefenn.

Then, his foot clipped an errant tree branch, sending him sprawling forwards, his hands flung out in front of him.

This was surely it, he rolled onto his back, looking right up into the sky.

And, there was nothing.

The footsteps had stopped, the nettles were no longer being crushed beneath running feet, and the path was once more silent.

Slowly standing up, Brandon checked the area around him. Quiet, in different circumstances he would have said peaceful, but all things considered he would describe the scene as menacing. Pensive.

He took a step towards Merefenn and suddenly the path erupted. Footsteps, gaining speed, the loud breathing of several mouths. Nettles shaking to and fro.

He stopped.

The noises stopped.

He took a step backwards, towards Flod. The path remained silent. He understood.

RECORDING FILE 7 11:01 FRIDAY 20 JUNE 2020

I’m walking down the path towards Flod. There’s no other option. Every time I walk towards Merefenn, the chase restarts. And I know that I can’t outrun them. That old lady knew what she was talking about when she said Charlie had looked “Hunted”.

I’d love to know how he got out.

The stinging nettles are so high and thick that trying to escape through them would be impossible. I can only go forward or backwards.

But the path itself is clear, so somebody must be tending to it. Otherwise, it would have completely disappeared. I wonder if it’s the Flod villagers or the Merefenn villagers. Surely not the Merefenn villagers?

His watch told him that it was midday, which meant that he was probably about 30 minutes away from the village.

RECORDING FILE 8 12:22 FRIDAY 20 JUNE 2020

I’ve just spotted the village. I must be one of the first outsiders to have seen Flod in 50 years. Or even longer, I couldn’t get much information out of Charlie, so I don’t know how far he got.

The village looks old. Really old. There’s a stream that runs along the edge of the path; the water level is very low, but I imagine in winter it must be a serious flood risk.

There are a few houses that I can see. The walls are filthy. The houses have windows, but they’re all single-glazed, and the wood surrounding them is rotten.

I’ve still not seen any people so far, but I can hear faint noises from inside the village.

Every part of Brandon wanted to run away. But the path was difficult to leave, even if there hadn’t been the threat of violence that he had sensed earlier, Brandon knew he would have kept on walking.

The path was now surrounded by houses on either side. All empty, but …

He saw a brief flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Somebody had moved a curtain in the large cottage to his right. It was so quick a movement that under ordinary circumstances, Brandon would never have noticed.

But Brandon was now the deer. Ever watchful, careful in his movements, constantly alert. He stopped, and looked at the cottage. A very small head popped out from behind the curtain. Just a kid!

They had a mischievous grin on their face, which would have looked adorable on a child from anywhere but here. But Brandon saw it for what it was, it was the look of a killer.

RECORDING FILE 9 12:33 FRIDAY 20 JUNE 2020

I’ve got the camera running, probably for the last time, I’m approaching the village square, and there is a huge party going on.

I’m so scared. Everything feels wrong. There’s a manic energy to this crowd. The dancing is fast, and everyone looks drunk.

God, I hope this footage makes it out of here. I may try and film some more stuff later on, but I won’t be talking to the camera.

Brandon was trembling all over, it looked like the whole village was here. Dancing, singing, drinking, and laughing. There was very loud and high-pitched music, that appeared to be coming from a variety of flutes, brandished by dancing villagers.

Many villagers were wearing masks and costumes. And God, those costumes were scary.

One man was dressed all in black, with a cloak that looked to be made of fur. He had a black mask with huge black rabbit ears.

Beside him stood a man who was completely naked, but had the dark-brown fur-covered head of a bear. The pelt hung over his shoulders and back, and trailed behind him.

On the other side of the square, there was a small child, dressed as a girl, but Brandon could not be certain of her gender because her head was covered by a huge pig’s head mask. She pranced around as if she were having the time of her life. It made him feel sick with fear.

In the centre of the square stood the strangest of the villagers. He wore a green cloak, and his hair was covered in ivy that had been draped all over him. He wore a set of antlers on his head, and his arms were covered in large gold bracelets. For a second, Brandon was convinced that the horns were coming out of his head.

The music had grown louder as Brandon approached, and the pace had sped up, the dancers responded in kind. Moving faster, yelling louder, throwing coins up into the air and laughing.

Brandon stepped onto the square.

The music stopped.

Everyone froze.

Slowly, they all turned towards him.

RECORDING FILE 10 12:46 FRIDAY 20 JUNE 2020

Welcome stranger, this if the village of Flod. We have been waiting for your arrival.

[the camera begins to shake slightly, it is held at hip height, looking up towards the faces of the crowd. All of whom are staring directly at the holder]

Please, do not be afraid, you are a treasured guest. And what luck that you would come here on our most precious of festivals. The Day of the Fallen Dawn.

[The camera spins around, and it becomes clear that villagers have surrounded the holder]

Join us in our celebrations, they will end at dawn, you will then see something that no man has seen in 178 years

Please, don’t do this!

[the faces get closer and closer, until the camera drops]

The dancing and drinking had been going on for hours. Brandon sat beside a large stone in the centre of the square. It reminded him a bit of Avebury, of that pub that was surrounded by standing stones. But this one had toppled onto its side, probably hundreds of years ago.

The villagers mostly ignored him, but he knew that if he stood up they would pounce on him like they had before. Hundreds of arms reaching out and dragging him back to the stool.

A teenage girl, with long pure white hair had run up to him a minute ago, and placed a chain of wildflowers upon his head. The girl had smelled sour from the hours of dancing and drinking, and Brandon couldn’t tell whether the flowers were part of some sort of ceremony, or were just some drunk teenager’s idea of a good joke.

Either way, he left them on his head, he didn’t want to upset anyone.

But once the flowers were on his head, other villagers began walking up. Each adding a single flower to the chain, or throwing one on his lap, or by his feet. They didn’t say a word to him, and few dared even look him in the eyes.

He saw a couple of villagers holding his camera. They seemed genuinely curious about it, and kept flicking the on/off button. It was clear that they could read English, but also clear that they had never seen a camera before in their lives.

What was this place?

RECORDING FILE 11 22:37 FRIDAY 20 JUNE 2020

[Camera spins around wildly, out of focus]

Soon, we will take our guest to the Porth, where he will see the wonders of Tir Gwynfael and be a vassal for our Lord Airthor.

[Sound of screaming. The camera suddenly focuses on Brandon being grabbed by many villagers and dragged to the large stone]

The sun was setting fast, dropping down until it was just above the fallen stone. To many observers, it looked like a golden crown slowly being placed upon a King’s head. But all Brandon saw was the large black hole that had opened up at the base of the stone.

The villagers surrounded him in a large circle, all swaying side to side, and singing something in possibly Welsh or Gaelic. Brandon couldn’t tell.

The only person within the circle of people, other than Brandon himself, was the man with the antlers. He was holding Brandon upright, as Brandon’s legs had given way when the hole opened up.

Finally, as the sun began to fall behind the stone, the man threw Brandon with all his force right into the hole.

RECORDING FILE 11 10:44 FRIDAY 20 JUNE 2020

[The camera focuses in on the stone. The black hole has vanished, as has Brandon. The villagers continue to sway left and right, but they are silent now. The camera falls to the floor, the recording ends].

Brandon woke up. The sky was dark, the ground beneath him felt damp and cold. He stood up, took a step forward. The footsteps began again.