The Giving Fields...

I scooped my hands deep into the soft white of the builders chalk and deposited the powder on the ground in front of me. When I pressed my two palms firmly into the pile, a billowing cloud of pale sent chalk fumes up to my nostrils. I turned my palms back to face me. Then, happy with what I saw, I drew them to my face and held them there. Smudged them down - and round - and over my tears. I looked once more into the mirrored pillar of the doorway before going back for a second handful of white.

I sat there. The ghostly reflection of me available for my viewing. I repositioned my legs so that they met at my knees then splayed outwards at my feet. I draped a weary cigarette holding hand over my knee and watched as the ash grew longer and longer and threatened to fall.

I tapped it. Saw it land in the palm of my hand.

I dipped my forefinger into the ash and wiped its gray carefully over each closed eyelid.

Holding the small twig up to the lights of the street I twirled it with interest. Picked an end and licked it damp.

Dipped back into the ash I saw it black and moisten.

I drew lines. Lines of horror under my eyes and on my lips.

And then I cried again.

_____________________________________________________

The field was bleak and windy and the tiny magic mushrooms hid from our tired minds.

'How many you got?' Shouted Dean. Distant from my position, he stood in the middle of the field and I watched as the wind blew him closer.

I looked down at the small yellow plastic bucket in my hand. 'Twenty, maybe thirty. You?'

'About sixty I reckon. Rats has got about two, the lazy fucker and Collin has sixty. I reckon we call it quits soon. That storm is blowing in.'

I agreed on both counts. We drove in the car and stopped on a grass verge near the base of Glastonbury Tor. There we chewed on mouthfuls of the slimy fungi and waited for things to elevate.

It took about half an hour before the nausea started, the storm hit and the car became smaller and odder than I had perceived it before. I watched as the men laughed and smoked and floated from this normal world. I needed to leave that fucking car.

'Let's climb the Tor.' I said enthusiastically. Before opening the car door and vomiting explosively. I stepped out into the fierce elements of wind and rain, looked up at the tower and then back at the car. I think that the men were talking to me but their words were lost in the breeze.

'Come with me.' I called as I stumbled towards the stile. I think they followed.

The base of the Tor found me muddied and wet and more than a little torn by the hedgerows. I looked up at the great steps of its grassy side with awe, throwing myself to the earth and smelling nature as it met me. I lay there momentarily, watching the storm clouds brew and pattern the roof of my view. I felt the softness of the mushrooms rise and spill towards the manic of LSD.

I better get up.

The wind was so bitter and strong that you could lean into its power and never fall, or so I thought. It supported me as I clambered from handhold to handhold, step to step. I caught sight of the lads, way behind me, moved swiftly up the hill to its summit.

Nature wrapped me in this weird and spiritual place. I felt as if the very Lord of the Underworld, Gwyn ap Nudd, himself had called me here with his potent wind and fury. He has long been part of the tale of this hill that writes him vocal in its history.

I stayed with this 'happy hippie' fantasy until darkness melted to the surrounding meadows and the voices of my friends called me back to the warmth of the car. I shuffled to the edge of the Tor and looked down. Moved by the black, still deepened by the mushrooms, I was reluctant to descend. I crouched. Placed my legs over the first long drop and carefully pushed forwards to lower myself down.

Dean called out to me from far in the distance but I had lost my voice in Annwn and was unable to respond.

I tried to move again.

Stagnant.

Here and always here. In this black.

Missing friends. Missing home. Missing family. Missing courage.

Not even fucking. I sat.

Here and always here.

In the distance at the base of the Tor I saw the light inside the car blink on then off as they climbed inside and sheltered.

The wind blew strong again and I wanted to stand and scream and tell these demons to take me down into their depth, they could have me, I did not care. But here I sat.

Here and always here.

Realising that the next drop was not achievable, I sidled over towards the right and tried to stretch my feet to meet the ledge. It worked. Back towards the left I found a second drop that I could reach; and so it continued until my damp and stiffened hands touched the warm disgruntled wood of the gate. Disorientated, I was uncertain which side of the Tor I now found myself on. I cleared the gate and found myself in the long grass of a grazing field. Alarmed by the first unexpected movement of a lone cow I fled towards the road...

But found no road. Just a hedge.

I tried to lay my thoughts of dark away and hide them from the mushrooms of my brain. But there is nothing like trying not to think of something to make you think of something and I soon worked myself up to a terrible state. With every sound I jumped and changed direction. Where the fuck was the car?

Voices?

Definitely fucking voices.

A fire.

Over the top of the hedge and through its dense I could see the licking orange of fire.

Momentarily I wondered if I had walked the whole twenty miles from Glastonbury to Bath? Was this not the bender site before me?

Was that not Old John with the laughing beard and welcome stories?

I felt my way along the hedgerow. Fingertip led I found the break and tip toed in.

Not benders.

Tents.

The cow mooed as my companion for a while and lit his horn electric yellow to illuminate my night.

I thought perhaps him not a cow. But more a motorbike.

Beings moved around this place with ghostly ease. I watched, engaged and fearful. Clicked my bare heels together and hoped for home.

Nothing.

Falling to my knees I crawled, still unseen by the creatures of this place, past another metal cow and quiet voices to the door. I unzipped it and slipped into the black of haven. Soft blankets under hand and knee, I grabbed one and held it to my body for warmth.

Sleep.

I could feel the bright of the torch before I even opened my eyes. I heard them speak too.

'It's a girl.' Said the first voice.
'Who the fuck is she?' Said the second.

I opened one eye.

'She's Claire.' I offered.

'Claire!' Said the first voice.
'Who the fuck is Claire?' Said the second.
I sat up, blinded by the bright light that they held on me.

'Who gives a fuck who Claire is?' Said the first voice. I was still unable to see their faces, 'She's in our fucking tent. Hello Claire!'
'Hello Claire.' Said the second voice.

There was some bickering. Only the first voice had a condom and there was much debate about whether the voice with the latex should go first or last.

'I ain't going after you man.' Said the first voice. 'I've got the rubber. I'll leave her nice and clean for you.' They shone the torch in my face again. 'You on drugs?' He asked.

The first voice asked me to lie down and told his mate to turn around.

'Fuck off.' Said the second voice. 'You go first I get to watch.'

The first voice had a beard and smelt of ale. The second smelt of ale but had no beard.

'God,'laughed the first voice, 'sure moves in mysterious ways.'

In the morning we all had sex again and I wondered if the car would still be close.

When they finished, I unzipped the tent about halfway and looked outside. This muddy field was full of motorbikes and tents. I climbed out and met the world again.

I have to stop this. I thought. Or one day I will end up dead.

Then I waved the boys a cheery goodbye and made my way through the piles of shit, back towards the road.

Collin was leaning against the car smoking an angry cigarette.

'Where the fuck have you been?' He opened the door 'Get in the fucking car!'

Dean winked at me and smiled.

'I was just...'

'Oh we know where you were.' Laughed Dean. 'That's why Colin here is so pissed. He doesn't think that was a very lady-like thing to do.'

Rats laughed himself to near hysteria in the front seat.

I lay my head on Dean's shoulder and held his hand

'Hey Coll. What happened to that little girlfriend of yours? How old is she? Ten?' Teased Dean.

'She's fucking fifteen you bastard.'

'Another fucking year and she can get her picture in Barely Legal. That should make you proud.'

I could see that Collin was riled.

'What's her name Coll?' I asked.

'Her name's Claire.' He answered. Then looking back at me, 'But she's nothing like you at all.'

Continued