I remember following Gwen into Pobl y Fforest. I remember her words. “Honestly, Caron, this is what Nana did. Ask Grandad, he was with her.”
It was almost noon when we came to Rhiannon’s Glade, a hollow bowl in the forest floor surrounded by high ground with silver birch trees all around. I had heard so many stories about Rhiannon’s Glade as a child, and all of them had made me want to stay away from it. The glade was light and airy, beautiful really. I shouldn’t have been afraid, but I was.
“I think we should go back, Gwen. Gwen? What are you doing?” She had slipped out of her dress and was walking naked round the glade, drawing a circle on the twig-strewn floor with a broken birch branch.
“She came here at the end. Nana was a witch, a good one. She knew things about the Otherworld.”
“I don’t like it. It’s giving me the willies it is. You shouldn’t mess around with things like this, Gwen.” I had goosebumps running up my back by then, and I was upset by how thin poor Gwen had gotten. “Please, Gwen,” I said, “you’ll catch cold. You know how you get in the afternoons.” She ignored me.
“Nana always sang to the birds, Caron. She called them Rhiannon’s children. I remember that. Grandad said they sang her to a better place.” Gwen stood in the centre of the circle she had made and held her arms to the sky. I heard a stirring in the trees. She was humming an eerie tune, which sharpened the prickles on my back.
Gwen looked down from the sky at me, her face beatific. “She did sing to the birds, Caron, and they heard her. Rhiannon heard her too. Grandad brought her here when the pain got too bad. He thought she was going to ask Rhiannon to heal her, like in the old stories. She called to the birds and they came to her, pretty, delicate things. They covered her until Grandad couldn’t see her anymore. He said they stopped flapping their wings for an instant and then the flock shot to the sky as if a shotgun had gone off. When all the birds had gone, so had Nana. Vanished. He says Rhiannon took her soul to heaven. He says She did that because Nana was a good person who shouldn’t suffer. Like me.”
Now Gwen was my friend and I loved her, but she was no saint. She stole, she was quick to anger, she could be very small-minded, and she was even violent sometimes. She’d never hit anyone as far as I knew, but every now and then she’d just lose her temper and storm around the house turning over furniture and breaking things. There were two really bad things she did though that only I knew about. Once, when we were both about thirteen, we found a stray puppy. Gwen was playing with it and it bit her hand, nothing serious, but she lost her temper and kicked it so hard it died. Three years later she had an abortion and never told anyone, not even her boyfriend, Bryn. But most of the time she was the best friend ever. She was generous you see, she never lied, never cheated.
She was a real laugh until she started getting ill. She was just unhappy, that’s all. It was the illness. I could forgive her. She needed a friend like me.
She was chanting now. “Please, Gwen. Stop.” I pleaded, but she didn’t hear me. A wind blew through the glade kicking up leaves. I hugged myself, but the chill was in my bones. I shouted out again when the first birds came. “Go away!” I screamed at them, but they ignored me too.
Gwen shouted for joy when the little birds landed along her arms. She smiled at them and called them her darlings. They were unlike any birds I had ever seen. There were three kinds. One emerald-green, one snow-white, one golden. Soon the air was filled with them, so many that the glade was in shadow. The sound of their wings was so loud I pressed my hands against my ears.
Then the noise stopped. The birds stopped coming, but they weren’t still like Gwen had said, they sort of writhed all over her. I held my breath, waiting for them to take flight. I couldn’t believe the old stories were real. I wiped away my tears with the back of my hand. I would miss Gwen. I wished Rhiannon’s children could have just sung to her and made her better. Then the birds shot up into the sky.
I will never forget how her eyes stared at me in her last instant of life, white orbs set in a shiny mess of exposed red muscle. She stood for a moment, took a step toward me, reaching out with her flayed arms, and then she slumped to the floor, slapping down with a wet sound that still echoes in my nightmares. An ugly black crow landed on Gwen’s upturned face. It cocked its head to one side, blinking unnaturally — white lid on shiny black — and cawed. I fled Rhiannon’s Glade so quickly I think I left part of myself behind.
I’m writing this how it happened, hoping it will exorcise my nightmares, but usually, when anyone asks me what happened at Rhiannon’s Glade, I tell it the way Gwen’s Grandad did.
© 2009 Barry J. Northern
Barry lives in Brighton, on the South Coast of England, with his wife, son, dog, cat, and garden full of snails. By day he makes computer games, by night he writes stories about wizards, and as such he has never really grown up. Find out more about his writings at: http://barryjnorthern.blogspot.com”>http://barryjnorthern.blogspot.com
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October 2nd, 2009 at 4:13 am
This is lovely. Very well done.
October 2nd, 2009 at 9:15 am
Dang, now I have to cancel my vacation plans to RHIANNON’S GLADE. Loving your fantasy/fable style, Barry.
October 2nd, 2009 at 10:22 am
Wow. I loved the style of this. Very atmospheric. This was a great tale, Barry. Extremely well done.
October 2nd, 2009 at 11:57 am
Great story Barry - what is it about birds that are so creepy? You did well setting the scene in the glade, the witchcraft, Gwen’s nudity, Grandad’s story of the birds, and the girl’s anger - it all carried the suspense nicely to the finish.
October 2nd, 2009 at 7:31 pm
barry - well done. you have a fluid and captivating style that delivers!
October 3rd, 2009 at 9:31 am
Thanks everyone! Your appreciative comments mean a lot to me.
October 3rd, 2009 at 5:38 pm
Barry,
This story is hauntingly beautiful. I could feel Gwen’s draw of Rhiannon Glade and yet it was a chilling draw. The birds. The horror. The nightmares. I loved this piece of yours.
October 3rd, 2009 at 5:42 pm
Thanks, Jodi!
October 7th, 2009 at 3:31 am
Very good! I was reading this wide-eyed
October 8th, 2009 at 4:13 pm
Oh no, she’s perpetuating the myth!
Very well done. Loved it.
~jon
November 8th, 2009 at 6:13 pm
Barry,
Eerie and haunting. Beautiful imagery. I enjoyed reading this and felt like I was there. Nice job.
January 12th, 2010 at 8:00 pm
Creepy hoppers, those birds. This was full of imagery and loss of hope for a friend. Good stroy.
March 1st, 2010 at 9:36 am
Sorry for the huge review, but I’m really loving the benten, and hope this, as well as the excellent reviews some other people have written, will help you decide if it’s the right choice for you.