Where the ghosts dared not tread
A short story inspired by recent travels to the Lake District, England
Hello, I’m Holly and I write about the untold tales of medieval lives. Subscribe for free to enjoy regular posts from me, including book reviews, short stories, and historical discussions. Or, even better, join our community of like-minded souls to unlock ALL of my content, including an exclusive serialised historical fiction novel, videos and chats, to open up a world of history as you were never taught it. We’d love you to join us…
This short story is inspired by a recent trip I took to the Lake District. I always feel so connected to historical people when visiting locations like this, places that seem unspoilt and closer to the landscape they would have inhabited. As I hiked and ran the mountains behind our AirBnB, it got me thinking about how they might have interacted with these rugged terrains.
Were they frightened by the mountains? Or were they entwined with them in some form of symbiotic relationship?
I do hope you enjoy this creative imagining - and the photos that I snapped along the way.
![](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F0a5d9659-73ae-4a08-9259-1d68fedff93c_1800x1200.jpeg)
The Langdales c. A.D. 20
Step after step after step.
Going somewhere; going nowhere.
Moving forwards but not towards her destination. That is behind her, where she began this journey. This path cannot take her anywhere. It follows the stream until it can follow it no longer, the water rising sharply to its source.
She could scramble up the hillside, perhaps, rock beneath her hands, cold and smooth with the embrace of its watery companion. The air would burn in her lungs, and her knees would sting with strain. Her pace would be quick before the effort began to take its toll and she would be forced to a slow trudge, later punctuated by breathless pauses and, eventually, seated respite. She would begin to wonder if she would ever reach the pool, sheltered on almost all sides by sheer rock faces. It was an oasis in a wild and windswept land, ice cold and still like nothing else she’d ever known.
Her people were a mountain people, treading the boundary between land and sky for generations before her time. They gathered time and again above the clouds in their special places, where they would feast and drink until the world became blurred, tumbling around in their mind’s eye. They would cry out to their ancestors to bless their harvests or heal a sick child, screaming into their hallucinogenic visions, desperately reaching but never grasping. They would gift them precious objects through the watery portal, the bronze sparkling as it drifted slowly to the silted floor of the tarn.
She preferred to stay where the ghosts dared not tread, safe in her valley home.
![](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_474,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F86bdefed-a37d-4c89-88e6-f025357711cb_1800x1200.jpeg)
![](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_474,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F66338b3b-9e4a-49e0-b657-b2c6c5abddc2_1800x1200.jpeg)
![](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_474,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F9799d4b4-b941-4ad4-ade0-1cafae2be76a_1800x1200.jpeg)
Similar posts you might also enjoy:
Did you know that you can now buy my photos at my Etsy Shop? I have photos from a range of locations across the UK, available for instant digital download. Check it out via the link below.
Beautiful writing (and stunning photographs too!) xx