Order Only: Campfire Tales
Aug. 3rd, 2009 04:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alt_poppyI've just come from taking tea with Alice and Remus, where we spent most of our time discussing the camping trip that Alice's Neville and his classmates are attending. We shall be watching the journals with an eagle eye for any news of them, of course. I do hope, Molly, that all is well with your boys.
We've been remembering our own youthful days and times spent roughing it. Alice told stories of her Auror training and the investigative treks she and Frank were sometimes assigned; Remus regaled us with stories of his marauding mates and their adventures; they even had me telling tales of my Rafe and of that summer we were in training with Dumbledore, preparing to go abroad for the fight against Grindelwald.
In the course of things, our talk turned to campfire stories and tall tales, which made me think of some odd things I heard in Cumbria just before coming here to the Sanctuary. Alice thought it worth mentioning to you all, so I shall do.
At the moment, it seems that the Lake District is full of stories of Sleepers waking and of Inferi on the prowl! I can't tell you how many times I heard (and overheard) versions of this story as I travelled around the region. I myself saw nothing of the kind, but the stories are widespread and belief in them seems firmly rooted. I've no idea what to make of it. Bad consciences, I suspect, but if there's any chance there's more to it, I suppose it's worth taking note.
If you ask me, the root of the story goes back to something (horrific, yes, but entirely natural) that happened this past spring--late March or early April--when a work detail of Muggle labourers picking cockles was caught by the tide in Morecambe Bay. As you'll know if you've visited there, sightseers are roundly warned against walking out across the sands because the tides return so quickly and so violently. Every year, one or two hapless folk drown there because they ignore the warnings. These poor souls were no tourists; indeed, they had no choice but to work where they were assigned. The punishments for disobedience or inefficiency are harsh, as you must know. The workers were at the mercy of their overseers, who seem to have lost track of time or to have misread the tide charts--those facts are unclear.
What is not in doubt is that only the two gangmasters survived, and that was because they had brooms and were able to fly above the in-rushing tide to save themselves. People all over the area claim to have heard the pitiful cries of the workers, who were, for a time, trapped on a bar that stood higher than the surrounding sands. For a quarter of an hour, perhaps, there were calls for help and then terrible, frantic wailing as the tide rushed up to swallow them.
Over the course of a fortnight, twenty-one bodies were found in various locations around the bay, but it is believed that a further seven or eight were lost to the sea.
And now? Now people tell of seeing Inferi stumbling along the beaches, lurking in the streets on foggy nights, climbing the hillsides, even wandering in the high moors some distance from the bay. I put it down to collective guilt or spontaneous mythmaking: the anecdotes are being told like old witches' winter tales to frighten children and their parents into staying home and minding their behaviour. On the other hand, if there's any truth to it, well. I've done my duty and told what I know. Make of it what you will.
I trust that things are more settled in the Cornish countryside than in the Lake District. I'm sure Professor Sinistra could do without having her charges hear tales of the walking dead from every local they meet!
We've been remembering our own youthful days and times spent roughing it. Alice told stories of her Auror training and the investigative treks she and Frank were sometimes assigned; Remus regaled us with stories of his marauding mates and their adventures; they even had me telling tales of my Rafe and of that summer we were in training with Dumbledore, preparing to go abroad for the fight against Grindelwald.
In the course of things, our talk turned to campfire stories and tall tales, which made me think of some odd things I heard in Cumbria just before coming here to the Sanctuary. Alice thought it worth mentioning to you all, so I shall do.
At the moment, it seems that the Lake District is full of stories of Sleepers waking and of Inferi on the prowl! I can't tell you how many times I heard (and overheard) versions of this story as I travelled around the region. I myself saw nothing of the kind, but the stories are widespread and belief in them seems firmly rooted. I've no idea what to make of it. Bad consciences, I suspect, but if there's any chance there's more to it, I suppose it's worth taking note.
If you ask me, the root of the story goes back to something (horrific, yes, but entirely natural) that happened this past spring--late March or early April--when a work detail of Muggle labourers picking cockles was caught by the tide in Morecambe Bay. As you'll know if you've visited there, sightseers are roundly warned against walking out across the sands because the tides return so quickly and so violently. Every year, one or two hapless folk drown there because they ignore the warnings. These poor souls were no tourists; indeed, they had no choice but to work where they were assigned. The punishments for disobedience or inefficiency are harsh, as you must know. The workers were at the mercy of their overseers, who seem to have lost track of time or to have misread the tide charts--those facts are unclear.
What is not in doubt is that only the two gangmasters survived, and that was because they had brooms and were able to fly above the in-rushing tide to save themselves. People all over the area claim to have heard the pitiful cries of the workers, who were, for a time, trapped on a bar that stood higher than the surrounding sands. For a quarter of an hour, perhaps, there were calls for help and then terrible, frantic wailing as the tide rushed up to swallow them.
Over the course of a fortnight, twenty-one bodies were found in various locations around the bay, but it is believed that a further seven or eight were lost to the sea.
And now? Now people tell of seeing Inferi stumbling along the beaches, lurking in the streets on foggy nights, climbing the hillsides, even wandering in the high moors some distance from the bay. I put it down to collective guilt or spontaneous mythmaking: the anecdotes are being told like old witches' winter tales to frighten children and their parents into staying home and minding their behaviour. On the other hand, if there's any truth to it, well. I've done my duty and told what I know. Make of it what you will.
I trust that things are more settled in the Cornish countryside than in the Lake District. I'm sure Professor Sinistra could do without having her charges hear tales of the walking dead from every local they meet!
no subject
Date: 2009-08-04 02:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-04 02:39 am (UTC)What I'm not convinced of is whether people are seeing anything up there now beyond their own guilty imaginings. They ought to be frightened after what they all did, but that doesn't mean there's a single Inferi or mad Muggle on the loose.
Anyway, I hope it doesn't distress Molly to read this. I didn't hear anything of the like whilst I was in Cornwall. Granted, I was only there for three short stops and talked to very few folk in the course of things.