Trials from Llangollen

Hi! pretty sure my post got deleted idk why , huge fan of the show hope someone gets some enjoyment from my story based on a fever dream! :)

Trials from Llangollen                                   By Devie

Through the misty vale of the Berwyn mountain range, along a winding through road there lies a quaint sundown town called Llangollen in the North of Wales about an hour from the coast. An unassuming place at first glance with a population of no more than 10,000, the humble settlement is situated on the majestic River Dee that breathes fresh spring waters below its great stone bridges, as well as a host of white water rafting in the winter. Moreover Llangollen is hosted to an antique steam rail and a selection of traditional British pubs all teaming with life in the summer when tourists flood in. Its natural beauty is second to none but beyond the rolling hills a few ancient and dangerous slate mines remind a disgruntled and displaced mining sector still grumbles of how quickly and suddenly those beams gave way when the price of slate and coal dropped sharply. The mayor of the period was scapegoated and quickly shown the door when it was revealed serious neglect bordering on malice allowed the entrance beams to rot. It is presumed a sort of sacrificial offering to some eldritch being deep within the stone underbelly of the great mountains, resulting in the complexion of the remaining residents seemed unchanged since the 40’s. Unusually low rates of strokes, heart attacks and cancer the local GP was paid there only to patch up the occasional broken arm. Some of the residents are bordering on their mid 80’s and don’t look or act a day older than 25, like a town frozen in time forever in eternal youth and energy. Even the flowers seem to bloom in spite of the blazing hot or freezing cold, any way the wind blows, life grows.

My dads side of the family always passes through the town, Father always remarks the town looks no different from when he was a boy, and my grandad, an old coal miner himself always ranting that the place doomed itself after his 6th scotch and coke. Growing up neither myself nor my brother paid much mind to it. Only years later I graduated from the University of Sheffield with a 1st in Mechanical Engineering, went straight into the royal navy as an engineer, I had the luxury of travelling the world while being paid. It was on one deployment to Sierra Leone of all places, sitting rather bored sat in a bar, drinking far too much palm wine that tasted like a mixture of pineapple juice and rocket fuel. I looked down at my empty cup and asked the bartender for another. I missed home, I missed my wife Liz, my last tour before my honourable discharge got me wondering what else life could have in store for me? Settle down with a mortgage? Raise a family with my one true love? Growing old? Retire? Then just fucking die? I'd become so accustomed to life in the Navy that the thought of doing anything less than sailing round the world blowing stuff up with the lads sounded… dull? I thought I lacked the discipline to join up but the comradery I felt over these long 8 years was something I wasn’t expecting.  

From behind me I heard an all too familiar voice, the squad leader Jack offered to get me another drink. “Ah why not, what’s one more?” I said gleefully. We laughed and drank the night away until he asked me “Say, what are you going to do as a free man by next week?” , “Well I’ll probably see my folks up and down the country, my mum's side in Penzance and my dad’s near enough Rhyll.” Jack’s eyebrow furrowed for a brief second before he asked cautiously and with a much sterner expression than I had ever seen cross his face. “Rhyll huh? Say you haven’t heard about what happened in those mines right?” , “Suppose I have?” I replied curious. “Well I have folks up there and they said after the mine collapse the people strung up the mayor and practically wiped the town off the face of the earth with the remaining explosives, settling elsewhere in Wales after avenging their colleagues, destroying the town that kept them there on such pitiful wages. I’ve heard it's mostly one or two houses spared amongst a tonne of rubble.” He yawned, “ Well catch you in the morning princess.” he walked off and stumbled drunkenly off to the barracks. A chill ran down my spine, how is that possible? The place is beautiful untouched by the war on account of its distance from any major population centres, surely he was mistaken?

I should rest, I'll clear my head and ask him what the hell he meant in the morning.

When I arose bright and early at 6 am, my head was still throbbing and that swirling feeling in my head and stoma- “HUUUGH!” yup. Tastes about the same way out as it did on the way in. When the roll call had finished I noted the absence of Jack who was detained in the disciplinary, drunk and disorderly. To be expected. The rest of the tour went on without a hitch but that question still lingered in the back of my mind, what the hell really happened in Llangollen? When I returned home my first inclination was to scour the internet or a local library for answers. Opening my laptop I found a thread on the 6th odd page of Google that led to a web link that was titled: “Ceisiadau llyfr Llangollen o atgofion anghofiedig” . To my great shame, I cannot speak Welsh and had to put the whole transcript through google translate so the translation may be a bit patchy (sorry dad I never did pay attention in those Welsh speaking classes). 

The rough translation of the book is as follows: Trials of Llangollen's book of forgotten memories. This text is an instructional guide on how to resurrect a breathing obedient husk. An eye for an eye , a life for a life, the crooked man with his crooked old hands, sleeps in a bed of flesh and lice. The crooked man and his crooked weary eyes demand a price. This must take place in the town of Llangollen in the late September period, you will need a vehicle, this text , a sheet and a quill. At 5:30 pm you will need to cut yourself and enscrall the name of your beloved into the pages, placing the sheet over your head so it obstructs your view of the outside world completely. Once the name is written you must recite their name three times and whisper “ I sacrifice.”. Your trial will last from 6pm to 6 am, you must remain silent at all times and DO NOT EXIT YOUR VEHICLE or look outside the sheet, you will regret it. At first not much will have changed, a few long tappings and scratches all around your car is all you will notice at first. Followed shortly by the pounding of fists and screams from the damned and the desperate, pleading and begging you to just release them from the infernal torment. Harden your heart and steady your breath, the worst is yet to come. Next by 1am you must have the text clenched tightly in your fist, you will begin to hear chants and laughter slowly raise the volume on your radio. Don’t adjust the volume, now hold your breath. A flood of icy water should fill the car up to the point where your head tilted upwards allows only your nose to grasp small rest bites of oxygen, clinging to life as a numbing cold penetrates your very soul. The tempter will begin to offer you things in a thousand voices that aren’t his own, your deepest desires: money, fame, wealth, family, the impossible resurrection of dead relatives. The silver tongued lies of the serpent begging you to bite the apple, a promise of freedom from a doomed existence is hollow and void. The water will subside and be replaced by stings of wasps all over, it will be agonising but this will be over soon, your body will burn and puff up from the venom. The same voices will now ridicule and threaten you, your childhood monsters, demons will curse you and tell you the only way to make the pain stop is to just get out of the damn car. When the pain has stopped it will be only a few more hours till completion. The last 10 minutes your beloved will start begging to let them in the car pleading they don’t want a fate with the crooked man, saying that only you and you alone are responsible for their double and they won’t rest until you let them go, let them rest. This will conclude your trials, fold the sheet, rip the page with your beloved's name and deposit it in the local library in an envelope addressed “To Mary”. Your lover is now bound to the town, only able to secure their freedom if the paper is destroyed and the crooked hand given his debt in the old coal mines.

I couldn’t believe what I was reading, barely having time to comprehend the implications this all had, when I got the call: “Mitch? It’s the hospital, Liz was in a freak accident and well… she didn’t make it, im sorry..”. My face drained of colour and I clenched the table. I didn’t hesitate, I took the book , my knife and a sheet and sped off for Wales.

End of Part 1?