That night, however, was the very first time I ever had dreams such as that. In my dream, I was drowning beneath the sea, which was, of course, quite dark, except for a glow of light that penetrated the waters. But it wasn’t ordinary sunlight, not any sunlight I knew anyway. Anyways, I heard a voice crying to me. It was neither old nor young, and it had some sort of otherworldly echo to it. All around could be heard some sort of chanting, like the ones monks do in the temples of the east.

“You’re Harry Brooker?” asked the voice.

To my astonishment, in the dream, I found myself talking, and underwater no less. “I am,” I said. I suppose that that is the way things work in dreams. It was quite baffling to think about even after the dream had happened. After I identified myself, I could distinctly make out some form of human shapes deep beneath the waves.

“You don’t know what you’re dealing with,” the voice continued.

“I know exactly what I’m dealing with,” I replied. “It’s just that I don’t have all the answers yet. It’s a mystery.”

It was here that the voice became more exasperated and panicked. “Don’t you understand?” it cried. “You have to get out of there. If they find out that you know too much, it’ll be you who’ll be killed next!” I sighed. I had to get out of the village. It was the only way I’d be safe. I’d go back and take up residence in the local village for a while, just like the gentleman on the train said I should, and then I’d go on to the US of A, and there find some form of work. It had to happen either way. I didn’t have all the answers, and at this point I particularly didn’t want all of the answers to what lay beneath the village.

Eventually, I awoke in a cold sweat. I didn’t hesitate any further. Leaping out of bed, I rapidly began dressing myself, and looked around to ensure that nobody was there. Clarence was in his bed, as I saw. He was dressed in his usual pyjamas, which were striped much like how you’d expect, but his mouth rather curiously was drooling.

I inhaled, and silently waved goodbye, and opened the door of the cottage, making sure to close it quietly. I crept down the lane for a moment, before suddenly running down the lane towards the furthest boundaries of the village. There was nobody about. Vapour came from my mouth. I was dressed in my father’s raincoat, which wasn’t very brightly-coloured so I was certain not to be given away.

“Just where do you think you’re going?” cried a voice from nearby. I had not even reached the edge of the village when I saw the Council of Elders walking up to me, dressed in their cultic robes. They looked very cross. I couldn’t help but turn and look at them. They certainly looked very cross, and even I could tell that, even in the poor light. Somewhere in the distance, I could see lights coming on in the village’s houses.

It was Elder Willoughby who spoke next. He waved his cane at me. “We take you in, we give you an opportunity to earn a living around here, and this is how you repay us?” he snorted. His eyes were already contorted with rage, but the pupils were dilated in a sense that I could tell that he was terrified of what would come next. “Now get back to Clarence’s cottage, you ungrateful animal,” he snapped.

I had never felt more dejected. Being called ungrateful was one thing, but being called an animal was something very different.

“I DON’T CARE!” I yelled. “I’m getting out of here. You’re not very nice people.”

“Even if we let you go free,” snapped Elder Simonson, “who will believe you? The police won’t, and they certainly won’t listen to you. Nobody ever listens to children. Besides, what do you mean, we’re not very nice people? Doesn’t the saying go ‘it takes a village to raise a child’?” It was at this point that I truly felt wounded, since my very own saying was being used right in my very face. In shame and humiliation, I sank to the floor, utterly defeated. 

The shock left me no choice but to return to Clarence’s cottage. I slumped onto my bed and cried myself to sleep, both out of shame for not being able to live up to the voice’s expectations and also out of fear because I knew that these villagers would not let me leave here alive. Yet still, their cries of “Here in darkness! Here in darkness!” echoed in my head for a long while during the night. It threatened to give me a headache.

The morning brought me no comfort. The morning was spent mending Mr Harris’ lintel, which had somehow become damaged in the night. A bolt of lightning had come down from the heavens and struck it. The villagers looked terrified whenever they saw it. “It’s an omen!” they would cry whenever they passed the thing, their faces dripping with sweat. We took down the original lintel and replaced it with a replacement plank of wood. During our work, I held the plank of wood and once it was raised to Clarence, who was standing on a stool, and wielding an electric drill, I would watch the villagers as they walked past the house.

“The goddess is hungry! The goddess is hungry!” they’d cry, over and over again, and their eyes were as large as a frog’s, as though I’d seen something I shouldn’t have.

This was perhaps why I wasn’t asked to venture out at night. Every night these last three weeks, the villagers had expected me to stay indoors, because they were making offerings on that hilltop. Indeed, it wasn’t just that, but every single night so far had occurred during a phase of the moon. The first night had been a new moon, which was why I hadn’t been expected to leave the place. Moreover, it was indeed possible that they didn’t sacrifice human life on the new moon, but any animals they could find.