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In Unspeakable Things,
Sarah moves into her abandoned childhood home, in the middle of deep, dark
woods. The woods seem creepy from her first walk on moving in day:
‘A sudden crackling sound made her whip her head round. What’s that? Just trees and fraught
stillness in the greenish light. She turned back to the bush and began to force
her way through, pushing branches aside. They whipped into place again behind
her.’
When her uncle turns up on her doorstep, woodland debris
gusts in with him, and she quickly shuts the door on the hectic darkness.
When he reveals a dreadful secret to her, they are in the
middle of the woods. His revelation is punctuated by the nasty chattering of
squirrels.
Later, eight-year-old Mary is left alone in the pitch-black
woods. Her brother has told her that demons live there.
‘She called, “Daddy! Daddy!” in case he
was hiding behind a tree. But there was no answer. Which way was home in all
this blackness? Something swooped at her and flapped in her hair and she
screamed and hit out, remembering demons…’
You’d think I hate woods, wouldn’t you? And yet I love them!
I was brought up on walks in the Kentish countryside, from the time my little legs
could carry me. Perhaps because of these happy memories, I walk into a wooded
place and my heart finds peace. I walk alone in our local woods and have never
felt safer.
Jon is doing Forest School training and goes off once a week
to make fires, paint mud faces on trees, coppice and whittle things and
generally revel in this fabulous environment. I picture him on these days as a
forest sprite with a hat made from an acorn cup. This past weekend he took me
to one of the sites – a wonderful, unspoilt stretch of heath and ancient
woodland that no one seems to know about – on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, we
had it to ourselves.
It was idyllic. The chestnuts are so abundant this year that
with every sigh of the wind, they thumped to the ground around us and bounced,
fat and glossy, from their spiky shells. We spent a wonderful afternoon walking
under a canopy of autumn colours and narrowly avoiding chestnut-related head
injuries.
I love woods. So why do they haunt my novel, the heart of
darkness into which Sarah unwittingly wanders?
Of course, sudden inexplicable
fear in woods is the origin of the word ‘panic’, because the ancients believed
it was caused by the god Pan. From the dawn of culture to the Blair Witch Project, woods have been
used as a sinister setting, alive with unseen threats and evil forces.
In Unspeakable Things,
Sarah must explore and confront the unknown – and maybe that’s what the woods
are there for. Enticing at first, they close in around her, fraught with danger.
Will she find her way out? Or will demons get her?
Unspeakable Things
will be published in January.
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