Purple Rain.

A fellow blogger (Typesetters workshop) listed his favourite movie as dawn as the sun rises over the ocean anywhere in the world. I can see his point, and witnessed a similar majestic vista myself all be it inland and on a lake. It happened some years ago when on a trip to Wales with three friends one of whom was a belly dancer, not that belly dancing has anything to do with this story but I thought I would get that in. Sadly he doesn’t do it any more, the years have taken their toll and the hips are usually the first to go in that game.

It was a camping expedition not something I had done since my Marple days, but my partner on this road trip was a young lady with luxurious black hair and beckoning eyes. I had taken her out several times but she had always resisted my irresistible charms, and I saw this as a chance to become more intimate. Besides which, money was in short supply that year and as they say only tight bastards and paupers go camping for a holiday. On alternate nights we would sleep in the van whilst our companions used the tent which was big enough for no more than two people. It was a toss up which was more uncomfortable. Anyone who has ever slept under canvas will be familiar with the fact that fillapidation (That’s farts to you commoners) have more impact on both the fartee and the farted upon when concentrated in a confined space, but at least the tent didn’t reek of petrol. It just reeked.

Our destination was Bala in Wales, the beautiful countryside beside Bala Lake; was chosen because my family on my Fathers side hailed from that part of the world, going back to my roots as it were. When we reached the village it was deserted. However on enquiry we were invited to pitch our tent in a small field behind the Café which was an add on to the local shop, the post office and also served as a ticket office for the small cinema that try as we might we couldn’t find.

It was late in the afternoon when we arrived and as I said the streets were empty of life, so we pitched the tent, settled in and ate some of the sandwiches we had brought with us. Toilet facilities were scant but after a great deal of farting around we all managed to make ourselves presentable. We decided to promenade the girls down the high street before going for a drink in the only pub in town. Bala is a small village so promenading took up little time and as the place was deserted it was a pointless excersise anyway. We decided to bide a wee at the War memorial, which seemed to be the centre point of the whole place and take in the balmy evening.

At precisely seven of the clock people began to appear from doors and alleyways zombie like and make their way to where we sat. It seems everyone had a place to sit or stand and anyone taking their place was either stared at until they moved or they were told to move. They looked deadly so we moved and made our way to the pub. Sadly this was Sunday and in those days pubs in Wales shut on a Sunday.

We were unaware of this Sunday law and as we approached the pub doors bright lights and loud music could be heard from within, it seemed things were looking up. It was not to be. It wouldn’t be exaggerating to say we had to push our way to the bar, but when we tried to order we were told that the pub was closed. It was almost like a western saloon when the baddie walks through the swing doors ok the music didn’t stop but everyone turned to look at us and they didn’t look friendly.

The atmosphere puts me in mind of the film an American werewolf in London, when the stranger walked into the pub and was told, “best if you leave, your type aren’t welcome ere abouts” but spoken with a Welsh accent of course. Things were beginning to get scary so we left and went back to the campsite. Over a cup of tea and the last of our sandwiches we decide that in the morning we would leave and find somewhere friendlier.

That first night I spent in the tent with the black haired beckoning eyed beauty whom I did my best to seduce. However her will was far stronger than my lustful advances and I failed miserably, repeated attacks were skilfully warded off, so I went into a five hour sulk (Well its what blokes do) at any rate I couldn’t sleep. So around five in the morning I grabbed the torch and decided to go for a walk. As I passed the van that the other couple was sleeping in I couldn’t help but notice that it was swaying from side to side and muffled cries could be heard from behind the steamed up windows. My friend the belly dancer was obviously having more luck than I was.

It was warm for so early in the morning and still dark, but as I walked down the narrow road toward the lakeside I could see over the tops of the tall hills on the opposite side of the lake that dawn was imminent. The dark blue sky was tinged with peach; and here and there pale red streaks ran through it like strawberry ice cream. I walked down to the lakeside and sat on a large rock to watch the sun rise on this happy little hamlet and as I marvelled at the unfolding view, I wished I could have had more luck with my reluctant black haired beckoning eyed girl.

Its amazing how many colours nature can paint with very little effort, but I hadn’t seen anything yet. The red and peach turned to vivid orange and for a while the sky looked as though it was on fire. Then quite quickly dark clouds chased away this fine display and for a brief moment it was dark again. As the clouds passed overhead they left behind a purple sky that was reflected in a perfectly still lake. From miles away I heard a deep rumbling and then the sky lit up with lightning, enormous cracked tendrils of energy danced in the air and the lake mirrored the sky. Then the heavens opened and the dark band of hills between the two was filled with purple rain.

I stood up to walk back to the camp when I saw something out of the corner of my eye scurry past me and head toward the road. It looked like a person, but no more than eighteen inches high, female and although obviously dressed the garments were transparent. I gave chase, when she reached the road she stopped turned one hundred and eighty degrees and walked slowly across the road backwards. This enabled me to gain ground, but when she reached the other side of the road, she smiled at me, turned around again and ran, bounding every few steps like a gazelle into the pine Forrest.

I followed as fast as I could, but I was no gazelle, it had started to rain really hard now and the raindrops were as big as sixpence’s, as they hit the ground they made a loud splat noise that along with the thunder soon became deafening. The Forrest was dense and quite dark, but a few feet into it, the bedlam from outside subsided, and the deeper I went the quieter it became. The canopy was some fifteen feet above my head; it was thick and formed a ceiling of sorts. The Forrest floor was ankle deep in pine needles and covered in a blue grey mist that reached nearly to my knees, and the whole scene was lit occasionally from the lightening flashes.

There was no sign of the creature other than a swirling trail through the mist like the wake of a boat through water and no sound save the crunching of pine needles under my feet. The light from the torch was feeble and didn’t cut very far into the darkness, but it was enough to see that though the Forrest was silent and still, as I played its beam, there was movement where it had just shone. I shouted hello more to comfort myself than anything else. My voice just echoed through the tall trees several times and died, I suddenly felt very lonely and turned to leave the Forrest. For some reason I changed my mind and walked backward looking over my shoulder every now and again to avoid bumping into anything.

Just as I reached the edge of the Forrest I stopped and shouted hello again. As before my voice echoed through the trees and died, I stood still looking into the darkness and as I turned off the now dying torch from somewhere in the mist a thin voice said these words “Finush, finush dasta driss” then a high pitched laugh.

It was at this point that the Gazelle like qualities that had previously deserted me suddenly returned and I ran like a man possessed back to the campsite and the safety of the tent. I cant say whether the van was still rocking but I was shaking like a leaf, it was impossible now to get any sleep, so I sat there trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Before long everyone was awake and making preparation to leave, I was given the task of returning the toilet key to the lady in the café, come shop, come post office, come cinema, and buy munchies for our journey into normality. I told our host what had happened, she pushed the change into my hand and looked hard at me for what seemed ages, then she spoke. “I wouldn’t be telling anyone else about that if I were you. There are folk round here have been looking long years for what you saw” I told her that I didn’t know what I had seen, and that it was beyond me why anyone would want to see. “For the wish of course, if you see a fairy you get a wish”.

What she said next made my hair stand on end. “Fairies have to drink from still water or they die. If they are caught in the rain they lose their powers for a year and a day. When they cross a path, a stream or pass bye a human’s house they have to do so walking backward. If any light other than natures own falls across them they forget their name unless they say it out loud” For the second time that morning I found myself walking backwards.

I returned to my fellow travellers who were in the van waiting to leave. We drove all over Wales without anything else untoward happening, and it was an enjoyable experience, though for the rest of the trip I was unusually quiet and didn’t pay much attention to the black haired beckoning eyed girl. I was still trying to make sense of the events a few days before. For some reason my apparent coldness towards her had the effect of fuelling her interest in me, and before the holiday was over my original mission which was of course to know her in the biblical sense had been accomplished.

Now you can believe or disbelieve this story after all there was no witness to the events other than myself. But think on this, the last thought that went through my mind just before the creature jumped up and ran away from me was to wish that I could have more luck with the black haired beckoning eyed girl.
Despite being in flight she took the time to smile at me as she crossed the road before bounding into the Forrest. I did shine a torch that isn’t natural light after her, which is perhaps the reason for the high pitched voice I heard just before I left the Forrest

Its up to you, over the years I have thought about that day, and now I think I know the secret, for hundreds of years people have looked for fairies simply to have a wish come true. But to see a fairy, you have to have a wish.

“Finush, finush dasta driss”