Atia surveyed the stone in her brother’s hand. She shook her head. ‘It must have a flat edge and a sharp point opposite.’ She looked up to the mountain. ‘You see? Like that.’
Felix looked, but the peak was wreathed in smoke, a lazy coronet often there on still days. He thought of his friend Cato who’d caught a beetle the day before, big as his palm, black as a thunder cloud with branched horns on its head like a stag.
‘I want to see the beetle, Atia.’ The sun was making him hot and whiney.
‘We must leave a stone for Venus -‘
The ground shifted under him, throwing him down. His knees hurt like bee stings. ‘Atia?’
She grabbed his hand, dragged him to his feet. ‘Run! Run to tata!’
The air stung, tasted bitter, dust filled his eyes, his mouth.
‘Lares help us!’
Written for What Pegman Saw, a prompt based on Google Streetview.
Of course, having a history degree that touched on the Classics, once I saw the smoky mountain top all I could think of was Vesuvius and what might have happened, had a brother and sister been out making offerings to the Gods on that day in AD 79.
Notes
Lares were household gods, small and personal ones, possibly guardian ancestors.
Venus was patroness of Pompeii, hence the children leaving a token for her.
It seems Roman children called their fathers tata as often as they did papa.
One last thing …
It’s thought Pompeii was engulfed by pyroclastic flow, a volcanic eruption where rock behaves more like water. To see what the Pompeiians might have seen before the end, see here.
Ah, music. There’s not a lot can convey and channel emotion like a tune. Whether you’re hearts achey-breaking and you need a good old weep, or you’re in the mood to shake you’re booty and crave a tune you can throw some shapes to, listening to music can be the catharsis you need.
But put aside your sparkly boob tubes and your glittery platform heels. And stop your sobbing, you big Jessie, cos today we don’t want to be cheered up and the only tears I want to see are tears of sheer terror.
Today I’m gonna share with you my top creepy chords, horns of horror and songs of Satan.
Now, being an old Goth, this task has proved all the easier by the fact I’ve spent years listening to bands whose intention was creep me out.
So, first up, housewive’s favourite The Cure with Lullaby.
Now, I confess it’s the video that freaks me out as much as the song. Okay, the lyrics are pretty creepy – it all seems to be about being eaten – but Rob Smith trapped in bed, with a DARK version of his pyjama-clad self crawling around the ceiling? Horrific.
Now for a proper bit of full-on, non-commercial Goth-ness. The Fields of the Nephilim’s Psychonaut.
I don’t think these guys ever troubled the charts. They never cropped up on Top of the Pops – front men who look like a cross between a Spaghetti Western anti-hero and Brad Pitt’s Louis from Interview with the Vampire wouldn’t have rubbed along well in the party-fuelled, brainless atmosphere of late eighties / early nineties TOTP.
Want to know the scariest thing about the Neff?
We knew a Watchman (not a DC superhero – it’s what the Neff’s hardcore fans called themselves) called Nigel who followed the band around the country, going to every gig. As one of the privileged few, Nige got to know frontman Carl McCoy, one day asking him what the words of the chant in the 12 inch version of Psychonaut meant. You see, Carl wasn’t playing Weekend Goth, he was a follower of Sumerian Gods, a fan of occultist Aleister Crowley …
All of the prayers and chants on Nephilim records are real. So Carl didn’t exactly say ‘if I tell you, I’ll have to kill you’ … But it was close. Dark forces indeed.
Next up, a truly nasty song from Siouxsie and the Banshees – Rawhead and Bloody Bones.
I coud’ve chosen Peek-A-Boo or Happy House or Carousel – the first about voyeurs, the second with its jangly, off key tune, the last a kid’s nightmare about fairground rides – but Rawhead is truly unpleasant. You can probably tell from the title.
Things are hiding – in wells, cupboards, under the stairs. These things have claws – and teeth. And there’s drowning.
Someone put the lights on.
Let’s leave my youth and try a classic – Danse Macabre by Saint-Saens.
You can hear the bones rattle, the scrape of coffin lids as the dead rise. This is what I want played at my funeral. That or maybe Don’t Fear the Reaper by Blue Oyster Cult – which I’m sure will be a great comfort to my grieving relatives … Or not.
Last and possibly weirdest in a Halloween countdown – The Police, Every Breath You Take.
Yes, I know, it’s a lovely tune and it sounds romantic – oh, he can’t bear to spend a moment away from her, ain’t that grand! However. Listen to the lyrics. Really listen.
He wants to own her. He talks about her oath breaking and fake smiles – he’s watching every move she makes, listening to her breathing.
Does that sound like love – or stalking?*
Yup, Every Breath You Take is the scariest song on the list – by far.
What’s your favourite scary song? Do let me know – I love them.
*If you add Wrapped Around Your Finger, Roxanne, Can’t Stand Losing You, Don’t Stand So Close to Me … Sting had some real issues around women and relationships.
When most people meet me they find I’m Friendly, Affable, Smiley, Mumsy (like a group of really tedious dwarves) but my fiction is often Dark, Scary and Violent, the kind of dwarves you don’t want to meet on the walk home from the pub.
I’m a glass-half-full person, carrying a hidden Gothic underbelly.This means I can be totally chilled and positive (Global Warming? Man, the earth will survive. Nuclear annihilation? Nothing a nice hot chocolate and group hug can’t sort) whilst simultaneously being drawn to graveyards, spiders and creaking door hinges.
I’m Mary Poppins wearing Morticia Addams’ undies beneath my frock.
So, when it comes to music, my favourites allow me to dip my toe in sorrow, go ankle deep in heartbreak, and sink up to my neck in melancholy. Sometimes, It’s good to wallow.
First up…
Last beat of my heart, by Siouxsie and the Banshees. Forget My Way or Wind beneath my Wings, this is the only track so far I’m definitely having played at my funeral.
When I hear it, I’m twenty again, listening to this for the first time. I’m sitting on the floor of a scruffy flat, desperately in love, wrapped in the arms of that love, wishing the four minutes of this song would last for the rest of my life.
From the opening drums to the introduction of an accordion and the off-kilter lyrics, it’s not mainstream. But as a piece of music to accompany my coffin disappearing behind those crematorium curtains, I can think of none better.
Next please…
Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis by Ralph Vaughan Wiiliams. Let me just say, I am NOT a classical music fan. Generally speaking, you put me in a room with a symphony playing and I’ll feel instantly depressed… and not in a good way.
But this music moves me. That opening sweep of strings can bring me to the verge of tears.
I don’t know if any clever boffin-types have done studies on this, but I definitely think there are notes/ key changes/ chords that have a direct connection to the emotion-triggers in our brains. They’re like magic buttons you can press to make you feel.
Vaughan Williams isn’t considered a world-class composer by many and the ‘hook’ is from a work of 1567 by another man, Thomas Tallis, but if I want to take the hand of Melancholia and sink beneath the waves of her welcoming sea, I choose this one.
But I’m gonna go for… Happy by Pharrell Williams. I shouldn’t, I know. I like nothing else by Pharrell and he needs a good slap for teaming up with Robin Thicke and making Blurred Lines (no, no link for that one- if you want to listen to that rapey, sexist drivel you can find your own way).
But the sun’s shining and sometimes I need to take off my black lace gloves, expose my pasty white skin to the world and soak up some Vitamin D. And it’s the catchiest song ever- damn it!
Clap along…
This was written for the Writing 101 Day Three challenge. It’s late. Soz.
Word Shamble 