New tale: Vanish Village
Posted: Sun May 22, 2005 6:56 am
Llandewi Dago is a ways up the coast from Pembrokeshire, in Ceredigion. No one really knew it existed when it was a “going” town. So it’s no surprise that no one knew about what had happened there. The Sage first learned or recent events when he was approached at a pub gathering in Sageston near his South Pembrokeshire house, and a good distance from that dark town.
Once again, Andrew had failed to keep a low profile. But, in this instance hardly avoidable as the Sage of Wales had been invited in his official capacity. He was asked to address a meeting in Sageston pub on local myth and mysteries. This was very much a local grouping; not something aimed at curious tourists. The Sage could assume a significant level of knowledge in his audience encouraging discussion rather than giving a lecture. Generally the progression of a discussion was held back by the least knowledgeable in attendance, and so easier to control. With a lecture aimed at those with the most knowledge, there was the worry that some dark details slip through and affect people not equipped with adequate strength of mind to combat the threat of darkness.
Despite all this, the Sage was a bit surprised to have someone spring something on him like the case of Llandewi Dago. He really should have guessed what it was all about, from the name. It was a local farmer who brought it up. He had heard about odd events there from his cousin, a postie in “the wilds” to the north of Ceredigion.
Immediately, the Sage suspected some link with other recent oddities that had occurred in the area. A few weeks earlier, he had been called in after a row developed in Borth. A local restaurant’s attempt at some publicity was causing…well, not really a row. A few locals were desperate to convince the owner to end his publicity stunt without coming across as a complete nutters.
The restaurant owner from away apparently believed it cute to have large three toed web-feet painted on the pavement all over town directed towards his establishment. The local residents were horrified by this. They were clearly very concerned that this might be seen as mocking by some in a nearby village who had various problems with Deep Ones from time to time over many years. The townspeople were keen not to mention them, and did not do so in name, but the Sage was well aware what was being talked about. As with many of these cases the Sage was in the middle trying to avoid some sort of mob rule event. Though torches were not generally used these days, cept’ maybe by extreme nationalists in North Wales, these situations were best avoided. He did manage to end the stand-off, but not before several residents had gotten rather upset by real, not painted, footprints. Whether these events were just youthful pranks or something more sinister was yet to be determined.
The farmer, clearly fearful that he would be pressed to accompany the expedition, complained off with too much to do. All the same, the farmer gave the Sage was clear instructions to give the cousin “a clip round the ear” if thing proved to be less interesting than his accounts had suggested.
So after a pleasant night’s imbibing and chatting in a local country pub, Andrew, Rupert, Claire and of course Eden, at 10 the next morning they were all in Rupert’s Land Rover headed off to north of Aber.
Anyway, heading north. Rupert naturally was the only one truly awake and he was already fretting about making sure they were prepared for any eventuality, whether created by man or…other.
The Sage, thanks in a great part to Eden lying on his lap, was out cold in the backseat and Claire was dozing off in the front passenger seat. Coffee, tea and breakfast provided by Clive had not altered their alertness one bit.
Rupert mustered them all for lunch at the Aber Wetherspoons. As was his wont, a stern lecture about staying alert followed together with his theories on what had gone on. The Sage quietly contemplated what they knew of events in this area, given the timing what went on in this town nee hamlet.
The town they were heading for was about 45 minutes North of Aber; mostly on rather small over-grown roads North of Borth. As they drove through the sea-side town which had previously sported those ill advised footsteps, the Sage was pleased to see that it had returned to its normal calm exterior. There were no dubious markings and the restaurant still in place. The compromise held.
From the current report they got from the postie, there was little they had to worry about. The need for speed was more so the postie could keep events and even the location of the village shielded from prying eyes.
Incidentally it was in Borth where they collected the postie. Gareth would show them the way north. This new passenger annoyed Eden as she was sent to the very back or the vehicle. Eden was unsuccessful in her protests that the guest should go in the way back as the last passenger.
Gareth led the expedition on following ever smaller roads, then lanes, toward their destination. He explained the situation as he had seen it. “Well, you see, they insisted I deliver all their mail together in a bundle to one single address. I always delivered them first as it was the easiest of my run and the farthest North.”
“Bet you weren’t too keen to drive this road after dark either,” grunted Rupert. He got no response.
“So what was the village like?” probed the Sage.
“Er, I only really met one member of the town lived when I delivered the post. I didn’t really see anyone else. I am not quite sure how many people lived there as there was never that much post. “ He continued: “I think the bloke told me they were a commune or something made up of a few families. One thing was odd though; I never heard any kids or saw any playing. “
The vehicle ground to a halt in front of a mid-sized bungalow at the end of the small row. There was no obvious road around it. As they got out of the Land Rover there was not a sound save their own footfalls.
“I think there is a side-gate on the left side that was normally locked,” said Gareth.
“No problem,” said Rupert, who was already holding a rather large set of bolt cutters and heading towards the gate.
The Sage could see that both Eden and Claire were very uneased by the vibes of the place. Rupert was as sensitive as dog and Claire but action was his way. Call it male ego or whatever but it was always either Eden or Claire who made their feelings known. Eden was now as close to the Sage as possible without treading on him. She was not happy. He held the leash, but was in her care.
Rupert’s tools cut through the gate fastenings. They walked tentatively into the hamlet. The first house they were next formed the end of a long causeway of sorts which let towards the sea. The other end was marked by a large beach completely unhindered. There was no dock or attempt to keep the sea at bay. The houses were unusual for this part of the world as they were on stilts, at the edge of the Florida Everglades. Their orientation towards the sea was unmistakable.
“There is nothing…er, no one here…”said Claire with a sense of unease in her voice.
Rupert was already searching the houses with Gareth tagging along unrequested. In hindsight, not such a good idea.
What was most striking was the complete lack of anything but buildings. There were no animals, not a scrap, not a tool, or any sign of human habitation.
“I can’t believe they managed to cover their tracks so well…”
“What?” responded Claire.
“Whomever or whatever was here last came by sea and there is no sign of it. No footprints or boat marks on the shore.”
“It’s as if everything had been washed clean.”
“Exactly Claire…I know when they left. I am wondering why.”
“By they, you mean?”
The Sage interrupted her,“Yes, exactly.” He had a few ideas on why they might have left but was as yet unwilling to share. His efforts in Borth might have had something to do with it or maybe they had planned to leave for other reasons. Perhaps they would never know which.
After checking all the houses and the surrounding area,Rupert joined the three of them. He was carrying something over his shoulder. and there was no one following him. Eden alone noticed his approach as the Sage and Claire peered out to sea. She rushed over to stand with Rupert.
“I bet there is a shelf out there somewhere…”
“So, what are you going to do about this?” Claire asked.
“Nothing really…well besides leaving a few surprises around to prevent any resettling from the sea.”
“Mmm, yes,” she paused, “but, are we going to tell anyone? Or rather, what are we going to tell them?”
“I will tell the proper people as it becomes appropriate. I think calling the minimum attention to this place is best. I am sure they know we will have been here and are probably not planning on coming back. However, this particular part of the coast being forgotten for a while might not be a bad thing. “
“Quite…”
Rupert placed the bundle on the ground next to the Sage. Eden nuzzled Rupert .
“What happened to him,” asked the Sage, knowing full well why Gareth was out cold.
“He banged his head on one of those low Welsh ceilings…wasn’t watching wear he was going…too busy chatting, asking me questions,” replied Rupert in his matter of fact way.
“Yes. Unfortunate. Will he be in need of some medical care then?”
“I expect so. We can have them meet us in Aber in a few hours. He will be fine in about a week and eager to get back to his relatives in Pems. I am sure his uncle will be pleased to have his help back on the farm.”
“Yes, an extra set of hands is always useful.”
“Why don’t you take Eden back to the Land Rover and give our friends a call? Claire and I will finish up here. I will carry Gareth back with me.”
With that, they set about finishing what needed to be done. Naturally the Sage was considering what exactly he would tell those who needed to know about this place. “I was thinking of suggesting we leave a name tag on this place and file some documents.”
“Ah what exactly were you planning to call it then Sir?” Asked Rupert in his best, reverent mocking voice.
“How about Nos wyth Da?”
“A fishing lodge or…?”
“A nice religious retreat would be better…Shall we say an order of monks?” responded the Sage.
“Perfect…Claire can get to painting it on that blank spot on the house at the end.”
He paused; “Lets get on with it. Gareth is getting a bit heavy.”
The ill feeling of the place began to ebb quite substantially.
“Bugger, we will probably have to drive Gareth to the train Camarthen I suppose…” He thought to himself, as he patted Eden in the back of the car one ear to his mobile. “Dr Jeroslav please. It’s Andrew.”
Once again, Andrew had failed to keep a low profile. But, in this instance hardly avoidable as the Sage of Wales had been invited in his official capacity. He was asked to address a meeting in Sageston pub on local myth and mysteries. This was very much a local grouping; not something aimed at curious tourists. The Sage could assume a significant level of knowledge in his audience encouraging discussion rather than giving a lecture. Generally the progression of a discussion was held back by the least knowledgeable in attendance, and so easier to control. With a lecture aimed at those with the most knowledge, there was the worry that some dark details slip through and affect people not equipped with adequate strength of mind to combat the threat of darkness.
Despite all this, the Sage was a bit surprised to have someone spring something on him like the case of Llandewi Dago. He really should have guessed what it was all about, from the name. It was a local farmer who brought it up. He had heard about odd events there from his cousin, a postie in “the wilds” to the north of Ceredigion.
Immediately, the Sage suspected some link with other recent oddities that had occurred in the area. A few weeks earlier, he had been called in after a row developed in Borth. A local restaurant’s attempt at some publicity was causing…well, not really a row. A few locals were desperate to convince the owner to end his publicity stunt without coming across as a complete nutters.
The restaurant owner from away apparently believed it cute to have large three toed web-feet painted on the pavement all over town directed towards his establishment. The local residents were horrified by this. They were clearly very concerned that this might be seen as mocking by some in a nearby village who had various problems with Deep Ones from time to time over many years. The townspeople were keen not to mention them, and did not do so in name, but the Sage was well aware what was being talked about. As with many of these cases the Sage was in the middle trying to avoid some sort of mob rule event. Though torches were not generally used these days, cept’ maybe by extreme nationalists in North Wales, these situations were best avoided. He did manage to end the stand-off, but not before several residents had gotten rather upset by real, not painted, footprints. Whether these events were just youthful pranks or something more sinister was yet to be determined.
The farmer, clearly fearful that he would be pressed to accompany the expedition, complained off with too much to do. All the same, the farmer gave the Sage was clear instructions to give the cousin “a clip round the ear” if thing proved to be less interesting than his accounts had suggested.
So after a pleasant night’s imbibing and chatting in a local country pub, Andrew, Rupert, Claire and of course Eden, at 10 the next morning they were all in Rupert’s Land Rover headed off to north of Aber.
Anyway, heading north. Rupert naturally was the only one truly awake and he was already fretting about making sure they were prepared for any eventuality, whether created by man or…other.
The Sage, thanks in a great part to Eden lying on his lap, was out cold in the backseat and Claire was dozing off in the front passenger seat. Coffee, tea and breakfast provided by Clive had not altered their alertness one bit.
Rupert mustered them all for lunch at the Aber Wetherspoons. As was his wont, a stern lecture about staying alert followed together with his theories on what had gone on. The Sage quietly contemplated what they knew of events in this area, given the timing what went on in this town nee hamlet.
The town they were heading for was about 45 minutes North of Aber; mostly on rather small over-grown roads North of Borth. As they drove through the sea-side town which had previously sported those ill advised footsteps, the Sage was pleased to see that it had returned to its normal calm exterior. There were no dubious markings and the restaurant still in place. The compromise held.
From the current report they got from the postie, there was little they had to worry about. The need for speed was more so the postie could keep events and even the location of the village shielded from prying eyes.
Incidentally it was in Borth where they collected the postie. Gareth would show them the way north. This new passenger annoyed Eden as she was sent to the very back or the vehicle. Eden was unsuccessful in her protests that the guest should go in the way back as the last passenger.
Gareth led the expedition on following ever smaller roads, then lanes, toward their destination. He explained the situation as he had seen it. “Well, you see, they insisted I deliver all their mail together in a bundle to one single address. I always delivered them first as it was the easiest of my run and the farthest North.”
“Bet you weren’t too keen to drive this road after dark either,” grunted Rupert. He got no response.
“So what was the village like?” probed the Sage.
“Er, I only really met one member of the town lived when I delivered the post. I didn’t really see anyone else. I am not quite sure how many people lived there as there was never that much post. “ He continued: “I think the bloke told me they were a commune or something made up of a few families. One thing was odd though; I never heard any kids or saw any playing. “
The vehicle ground to a halt in front of a mid-sized bungalow at the end of the small row. There was no obvious road around it. As they got out of the Land Rover there was not a sound save their own footfalls.
“I think there is a side-gate on the left side that was normally locked,” said Gareth.
“No problem,” said Rupert, who was already holding a rather large set of bolt cutters and heading towards the gate.
The Sage could see that both Eden and Claire were very uneased by the vibes of the place. Rupert was as sensitive as dog and Claire but action was his way. Call it male ego or whatever but it was always either Eden or Claire who made their feelings known. Eden was now as close to the Sage as possible without treading on him. She was not happy. He held the leash, but was in her care.
Rupert’s tools cut through the gate fastenings. They walked tentatively into the hamlet. The first house they were next formed the end of a long causeway of sorts which let towards the sea. The other end was marked by a large beach completely unhindered. There was no dock or attempt to keep the sea at bay. The houses were unusual for this part of the world as they were on stilts, at the edge of the Florida Everglades. Their orientation towards the sea was unmistakable.
“There is nothing…er, no one here…”said Claire with a sense of unease in her voice.
Rupert was already searching the houses with Gareth tagging along unrequested. In hindsight, not such a good idea.
What was most striking was the complete lack of anything but buildings. There were no animals, not a scrap, not a tool, or any sign of human habitation.
“I can’t believe they managed to cover their tracks so well…”
“What?” responded Claire.
“Whomever or whatever was here last came by sea and there is no sign of it. No footprints or boat marks on the shore.”
“It’s as if everything had been washed clean.”
“Exactly Claire…I know when they left. I am wondering why.”
“By they, you mean?”
The Sage interrupted her,“Yes, exactly.” He had a few ideas on why they might have left but was as yet unwilling to share. His efforts in Borth might have had something to do with it or maybe they had planned to leave for other reasons. Perhaps they would never know which.
After checking all the houses and the surrounding area,Rupert joined the three of them. He was carrying something over his shoulder. and there was no one following him. Eden alone noticed his approach as the Sage and Claire peered out to sea. She rushed over to stand with Rupert.
“I bet there is a shelf out there somewhere…”
“So, what are you going to do about this?” Claire asked.
“Nothing really…well besides leaving a few surprises around to prevent any resettling from the sea.”
“Mmm, yes,” she paused, “but, are we going to tell anyone? Or rather, what are we going to tell them?”
“I will tell the proper people as it becomes appropriate. I think calling the minimum attention to this place is best. I am sure they know we will have been here and are probably not planning on coming back. However, this particular part of the coast being forgotten for a while might not be a bad thing. “
“Quite…”
Rupert placed the bundle on the ground next to the Sage. Eden nuzzled Rupert .
“What happened to him,” asked the Sage, knowing full well why Gareth was out cold.
“He banged his head on one of those low Welsh ceilings…wasn’t watching wear he was going…too busy chatting, asking me questions,” replied Rupert in his matter of fact way.
“Yes. Unfortunate. Will he be in need of some medical care then?”
“I expect so. We can have them meet us in Aber in a few hours. He will be fine in about a week and eager to get back to his relatives in Pems. I am sure his uncle will be pleased to have his help back on the farm.”
“Yes, an extra set of hands is always useful.”
“Why don’t you take Eden back to the Land Rover and give our friends a call? Claire and I will finish up here. I will carry Gareth back with me.”
With that, they set about finishing what needed to be done. Naturally the Sage was considering what exactly he would tell those who needed to know about this place. “I was thinking of suggesting we leave a name tag on this place and file some documents.”
“Ah what exactly were you planning to call it then Sir?” Asked Rupert in his best, reverent mocking voice.
“How about Nos wyth Da?”
“A fishing lodge or…?”
“A nice religious retreat would be better…Shall we say an order of monks?” responded the Sage.
“Perfect…Claire can get to painting it on that blank spot on the house at the end.”
He paused; “Lets get on with it. Gareth is getting a bit heavy.”
The ill feeling of the place began to ebb quite substantially.
“Bugger, we will probably have to drive Gareth to the train Camarthen I suppose…” He thought to himself, as he patted Eden in the back of the car one ear to his mobile. “Dr Jeroslav please. It’s Andrew.”