Christmas Ghosts & the Holly Queen (18)
Here's the 18th instalment of the serialisation of my Yuletide folk horror novel.
The story so far: Friends are re-enacting bygone Christmases in a remote cottage said to be haunted. After a row while decorating the tree, Alice goes for a walk in the woods.
Chapter 9: Christmas Eve Daytime, part 2
A biting breeze assaulted me as I left the cottage, but it felt good to shut that door behind me and be alone. I’m not really a sociable person. Perhaps I used to be, when I was younger, but these days I like my own company. I often prefer to have a conversation with my own thoughts than with a crowd of others, and the cottage had seemed more crowded since Paul arrived. Abi was probably my best friend, and I felt Paul had treated her badly by not answering her calls. His excuse about thinking she didn’t want to use tech was a poor one, since she’d messaged him and asked him to text back. Now it seemed Tate had disappointed her too.
I wandered into the woods, not thinking where I was going, just wanting to put distance between myself and the argument we’d all nearly had. Soon I was lost, having spent too much time thinking about what had happened earlier and not paying enough attention to where I was stepping. Without my phone – or a map and compass – I couldn’t tell which way I’d come or which way to go.
The ground should slope, I told myself. Up meant further to the crest of the Downs, and away from the village or cottage. But I’d reached a place where the gradient didn’t seem obvious. I knew it was late morning, perhaps near noon. If I could see the sun, I’d know which direction was roughly south, but the sky was overcast, glimpsed through the canopy of skeletal branches. I vaguely recalled trees tend to lean in the direction of the sun at noon, or was it against the prevailing wind? And there was something about the northern side of a tree trunk being colder. That might work in summertime, but now everything was freezing. In any case, whatever I’d ever learnt of navigating by nature I’d mostly forgotten. I was a townie at heart and knew it. I’d have left a trail of breadcrumbs, like Hansel and Gretel, if I’d had any bread…
Then I found myself entering a patch of the forest I recognised. It was a sheltered grove between a holly bush covered in red berries, and a ring of tall, bare trees of various kinds. The rabbits’ grave had been disturbed once more. Even the stones Tate had presumably put on top were scattered. Scraps of skin and guts and bone littered the site. A crow sat picking at a flayed skull.
I watched the bird make her meal. She seemed unbothered by my presence, but I stayed quietly at the edge of the clearing so as not to disturb her. I thought about pick holly from here to take back to the cottage, but realised I couldn’t. This gruesome scene would always be in my head when I looked at those berries red as blood. As I stood there, a story crept into my thoughts. I was unsure if it was one I’d read in that book of winter tales I’d brought with me, or if it was just my own imagination.
***
The History of the Holly Queen
Did you know that all holly trees once had smooth leaves, not sharp and spikey like most of them are nowadays? This is how it happened.
The Holly Queen, in her ruby crown, ruled the court of trees in the heart of winter, while her consort, the Oak King, slept until spring. And back then, in the ages before history began, all holly trees had smooth green leaves all year round. But that was such a long time ago, when the wildwood stretched across all of England, and humans lived in harmony with the natural world. They still keep their leaves in the winter, but most of them are prickly, by order of their queen.
It was said, in that long-ago age, the Holly Queen would grant the wish of any mortal who sought her, and knelt before her on Midwinter Eve. In return they would swear their treow, for that was the old word for both 'tree' and ‘promise’.
That ended. Men learnt to craft iron tools and thought it meant they could rule the wild places, and the ancient trusts were broken. They cut down more and more of the forest. The court of trees was patient, and let them do this for many years. But the Holly Queen grew more bitter with the passing of time, and the dying of the wildwood. Instead of granting wishes to any mortal who sought her, and knelt before her, on Midwinter Eve, she would test them. Only those who were worthy and remained true to their word would be granted their wish. The others would suffer a different fate.
And to prove that she meant it, she ruled that any holly tree that had been harmed in any way by a human, would only grow prickly leaves.
***
I waited until the crow had finished her meal and flown up into the trees. I thought about the knife in my pocket, and my intention to use it to cut berries, and wondered if that was what had prompted my memory, or perhaps my inspiration. Then, for some reason I couldn’t explain, I felt the strong impression that before I harvested from the forest I should ask permission. It wasn’t rational, I realised that, but supposing – just supposing – there was some Holly Queen watching me and judging, wouldn’t it be better to be safe than sorry?
Feeling slightly foolish, I knelt before the holly bush. Then, despite my professed scepticism and my reticence about wishes and deals with the supernatural, I found myself asking: “Please may I gather evergreens to decorate Pen Cottage?”
There was no voice in response, why would there have been? But I found myself asking something else: “Let me find out what happened to Jane. In return, I will tell your story.”
I stayed there, kneeling on the cold ground, hearing only the wind through the trees, and the caws of the crow who was looking down at me from a branch. There was, of course, still no sign my request had been granted, or my wish heard by anything except the bird. Beginning to feel foolish at even entertaining the thought that I had stepped into an ancient tale in which forest spirits grant wishes, I got up. Leaving the grove to the crow and the grave of the rabbits, I continued my search for berries.
I found them soon enough. It almost seemed as though a path had cleared. Along it I could spy not only abundant holly, but also other evergreens. I filled my basket with cuttings, not taking too much from any tree or bush. Then, in the distance, I spotted the holy grail of my herbaceous quest. It was growing profusely on an old apple tree, which I soon realised was one of many. It seemed I’d stumbled on the remains of an orchard that had long been reclaimed by the forest but still contained numerous gnarled specimens. Many appeared to be unseasonably in leaf, but in fact were laden with mistletoe rich with green leaves and white berries. With my knife I cut a single sprig.
My immediate thoughts were that I should head back, but curiosity prompted me to explore further into the orchard. I was rewarded. At the far side I found the ruins of a small building – perhaps a hut. It can’t have been more than a single room or maybe two inside. The roof and windows had long gone and nature was reclaiming its space, brambles and briars flowing through whatever gaps they could find, and more holly bushes growing around it. There was a rough wooden door in the remains of a wall. I’d seen this place before, or something like it, in a dream.
I peered through one of the gaps but I could see nothing inside except brambles and rubble and more saplings sprouting between cracks. I knew I’d have to find out what this place once was, but for now I left it, retraced my steps, and returned to the company of my friends.
Note: Christmas Ghosts and the Holly Queen is copyright Lucya Starza 2024
About this novel serialisation
This is the 18th post in the serialisation of Christmas Ghosts and the Holly Queen. The next section, Chapter 10 will be posted tomorrow. If you want to read from the beginning, here’s the link
I finished writing my new Gothic/folk-horror novel set at Christmas and am giving my Substack followers the chance to read it for free in posts between now and the New Year. The book features the same main character as Erosion, my first novel. In the new tale, a group of friends seek the joys of Christmas past in an idyllic remote cottage but discover the spectres of bygone times lurk there too. It’s about friendship, folklore and the telling of ghost stories at Yuletide.
Christmas Ghosts and the Holly Queen is a complete story so you don’t need to have read Erosion before you begin. However, the main character, Alice, sometimes briefly refers to things that happened earlier. I’m indicating when a spoiler appears so you can skip those paragraphs if you want to. You might choose to read Erosion first so you don’t need to avoid spoilers, or you might want to read this freebie to see whether buying Erosion is something you want to do.
WINTER50: The code to get 50% off my published books
My publisher is Moon Books, an imprint of Collective Ink. You can find Erosion on its website via this link: https://www.collectiveinkbooks.com/moon-books/our-books/erosion-novel
If you want to buy the e-book at 50 per cent off until December 31st, 2024, all you need to do is:
Click here > https://www.collectiveinkbooks.com
Choose your e-book(s)
Click 'Add to basket for direct download.'
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You can order any e-books from any of Collective Ink's imprints. Moon Books publishes well respected titles on magickal topics, particularly the Pagan Portals series. Other imprints cover mind, body spirit subjects, culture and politics, history and fiction. My non-fiction books in the Pagan Portals series are Candle Magic, Poppets and Magical Dolls, Scrying, Guided Visualisations, and Rounding the Wheel of the Year.