Chapter 75 - Small Village Horrors - Blog Post 18
A dark, small-town mystery steeped in folklore. THE STUDY OF QUIET THINGS is a serialised fiction drama shared one chapter at a time.
This is a serialised fiction. If you haven’t read the previous chapters, you’ll find them here in order, so you can dive right in.
It was her, the girl in the dream that was not a dream. It was Jessica Hamilton.
She was already sitting on the swing when we got to the park, gently swaying to the creak and squeal of the metal chains holding her in place. Her bright red jacket was the most vibrant thing I’ve ever seen in the town, standing out against the deep dense grey of the angry sea fret and the landscape losing its colour to Autumn’s call.
When she turned to face us, just like in my dream this morning, she took my breath away. I’ve read about people like her in books, seen them in movies. The type of people who defy gravity - everything and everyone falls towards them, pulled in with magnetic force. The type of person you want to hate because they remind you of all the ways you will never reach perfection, and yet, instead of anger, you feel only an insatiable adoration.
I felt sick, and wobbly, and unsteady. And somehow, smaller, as if she was a giant planet, and I a tiny moon orbiting around her, unable to escape her pull.
Carys, beside me, whistled quietly. A long, lone tone of appreciation, telling me she was thinking the same.
Then Jessica spoke.
“It’s fucking freezing out here, kidlets.”
Jessica’s voice was rich, with a much deeper timbre in real life than on her podcast. I couldn’t help staring at her full lips as words flowed from them, as if her mouth was a musical instrument worthy of a concerto. She rubbed her hands together even though she was wearing elegant black leather gloves that shone like obsidian. “This is a shit-arse place you arranged for us to meet. We’re going to the library.”
It seems stupid now to think we hadn’t already gone there. With the internet at our fingertips, Joe, Carys, and I had relied on what we could discover within the tiny world of our phones. We never thought to start local, never thought there might be answers hiding in this very town.
“It’s a long walk to the library,” Carys said, eyeing Jessica’s bulging overnight bag.
“I’m sure it is, but I’ve already arranged the taxi to pick me… us, up,” Jessica said. She grabbed her overstuffed overnight bag and was already walking to the car park; we trotted behind her like baby geese. “I’m not the type of person to arrive in a park a million miles from anywhere without making an exit route, kiddies.”
“Kiddies?” Carys jibed. “I’m eighteen next week.”
“You must be Carys, the gobby one?” Jessica said with a summer smile. I couldn’t help but laugh. Then Carys gave me the look instead of Jessica, as if I’d said it. I think she was a little in awe of Jessica. Not like Joe, who had slowed down, keeping her distance.
I wanted to ask about this morning, about the meadow, but I felt tongue-tied. I didn’t trust myself that it had really happened, and I didn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of someone so… perfect.
Instead, I watched silently as a white car pulled up to the car park, but it wasn’t a taxi. It was the Serg. Joe tensed beside me as Peters unfolded from the car, and, in what I think might have been the first time in his life, he smiled. No guessing who his smile was for.
“Jessica?” he asked, as if it was a question. But it was clear she could only be Jessica - nobody in this town stood out like her, and the Serg knew everyone in Llangellen. “You ordered a taxi?”
“Yeah, not the police,” she laughed. She eyed him up and down, appraising.
I never thought about it before, but I suppose in an older-man-kinda-way, he is pretty hot, at least, that’s what I saw when I looked at him through her eyes. I’ve always been too scared of him to consider it really. His height, his cold stare, his hard-set jaw.
Then Jessica continued: “Please tell me you’re one of those surprise stripper cops? It’s my birthday soon, so…?”
God, it was cringe. I joke vomited. Joe scowled. And Peters laughed - too heartily. He even blushed. Carys told Jessica that sometimes the police help with the taxi service. It’s a small town after all. She didn’t seem to mind one bit, and we all piled in the car. Jessica in front, of course. Joe snapping her band constantly until the Serg gave her a look in the rearview mirror that made her stop quick smart.
Jessica didn’t speak to us the entire journey. Didn’t mention the symbols or the nursery rhyme or the possibilities of an uncovered folk tale. Instead, she gave us a masterclass in flirtation and diversion.
Every time the Serg tried to gather information as to why she was here, she played with his words and gave a non-response that felt like magic. This resulted in the Serg handing her his card with his personal mobile number handwritten on the back, just in case you need anything during your stay. Their fingers brushed as she took the card, and their eye contact lingered a little longer than it should.
I hope I didn’t look at her with the same amount of longing he did. But I have a feeling she has been eyed this way her entire life.
And just like that, we were out of the car. “You lot stay out of trouble, okay?” the Serg said, but he was staring at Joe when he said it. Joe gave him a smile that was not a smile, and not a second later, the car drove away. And Jessica’s entire demeanour changed in an instant.
“Alright, kidlets,” she said, actually dusting her gloved hands; all work and business. “This little folklore thing you’ve got going on here? It puts you in the doo-doo big fucking time. You ready to find out what you’ve got yourself into?”
And she strode through the library’s doors, holding one open, inviting us into what had become our very own gothic mystery.
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