Betsy was tired from walking so far, she wanted to give up, but she knew that it was only 5 miles to the nearest pub in a village at the top of the moor, supposedly the best view of the countryside for miles around, she decided she would reserve judgement until she saw it, only she had already seen some spectacular sights.
Betsy was on a walking holiday in the north Yorkshire moors, and camping under the stars on her own, she was actually enjoying herself, she could pitch tent where ever she felt like and indulge in some soul searching and contemplation, lots of mindfulness meditation and reading books in rain storms, quite peaceful really. she expected the walk to take about 4 days over and under dale, but due to the weather conditions she was likely to be a lot longer, she didn’t mind, being away from the bustle of modern technology was nice and refreshing.
She had been walking along time, 10 miles last time she counted. She decided to rest after puffing and panting up a very big hill, the view was beautiful, here camera phone came out again, and she sat there drinking her hot tea, when she could hear in the distance a steam train along way away. Betsy was sure there were no railway tracks around for a good 50 miles, she got out her map of the Yorkshire dales to check, she was right, there was nothing indicated on the map. She had decided not to use the sat nav on her phone she didn’t want it to use up all the battery, and instead she used a an actual paper map, her father would be proud of her, she was using his compass as-well, and binoculars to see further ahead and glance at the sky for the occasional bird of prey. Since she was in no rush to get to the pub she thought she would investigate the steam train noises that she could still hear.
Betsy followed the noises for 3 miles over rough terrain and moss covered boulders to a massive open air quarry where by the time she had got there the noise had gone, and all she could hear was the birds singing,which ones?, she was feeling disappointed in herself for not knowing what birds were, her father would know.
It was creepy here, very scooby doo, although there under the mud and dust from the quarry walls were remnants of an old rail track that looked over a hundred years old, probably more.
The night was drawing in and she was a fair way off her course to her destination, she decided to pitch camp in the quarry, as she made up the tent there were bits of wood scattered around the place, as if something had been torn apart, there was a letter on one of them, D, danger maybe, she ignored it, her imagination was running wild being out here on her own in the dark.
In the early hours of the morning the weather picked up a gale force wind and a thunderstorm loomed over head, she could hear the whirling of the wind and the rain as it was lashing down, thunder woke her up an then a sound of a steam train getting very close, she stared out to see glaring headlights of a train coming towards her at a rates of knots, she belted out of the tent to see a steam train, larger than life ploughing over her tent, it looked pale or out of focus, she could see the people in the carriages looking out at her in various states of injury, her eyes were wide and all she could do was stare back the wind and rain lashing at her pyjamas and her hair flattened by the rain, the train past and and faded from view, the noises got quieter until they had gone, she took a deep breath and picked up her tent from the mud to stand it up right and moved it a bit to the left before going back to sleep until the morning. The thunderstorm died down quickly and everything was still again and stars in the sky twinkled innocently.
Waking up full of energy at the crack of dawn, less muddy and wet she gathered her stuff and got back on her trail towards the pub, as she kept walking she could hear the train in the background, she ignored it and kept walking forwards, she checked the sodden map again she was further away than she thought, with immense effort she trundled on. A bit further on it was slowly getting dark again and a noise was following her, a snuffling and growling was coming from every bush of heather she past and she was getting slightly panicky, still a few miles to the pub. It was dark now, and the wind had picked up
it was cold and looking up the stars were out, it was stunning, she had never seen that many stars, the sky was completely clear and the moon was at its fullest, she took some photos of the night sky. Checking her focus she took some photos of some bushes and noticed they had eyes glaring at her, not wanting to be savaged she started to run, now she could hear howling coming from behind her and the thumps of running animals were apparent, she never knew she could run so fast, especially in hiking boots and she was desperately trying to avoid falling over in the dark.
She tripped over a small gorse bush, crap she thought, standing up she could feel a scratch to the back of her leg, she wish she hadn’t turned round to see, the eyes again and a claw trying to attach itself to her leg, she kicked out and ran on, the light on the outside of the pub went on as she got closer, the village behind looked dead but at least the pub was still open, she stopped running, straightened up and walked into it breathing as steadily as she could, Betsy bought a beer just before last orders and went up to bed soon after.
Waking up the next morning she felt refreshed, a shower and down to breakfast, as she was tucking in to her second bacon sandwich she couldn’t help but over hear a couple of locals talking about last night
‘did you hear it last night, it were about’
‘Ye, I did, full moon to’ said the second man
‘didn’t think it were true, I just heard the rumours’
‘You know it’s called werewolf moor for a reason don’t you?’
‘What’s in a name, what bugger would be out on moor at that time of night anyway?’
‘A daft one’
listening to them Betsy filled with horror, she had been scratched what would happen to her?, mindfulness breathing wouldn’t get her out of this problem, despite what her life coach says.