I remember Mistweave as a quiet, dusky place. It was the kind of small town where everyone knew everyone else, if only to keep an eye on them to save their own hides.

Not that I could fault them for that. Out here, it was better to be suspicious then dead.

...

“Morning, Harold!”
“Morning, Irene! Say, did you see Cathy’s aubergines at the garden fair last week?”
“ooh simply unnatural! Such a size! I tell you, the night before, I heard this horrible scream from her shed and I swear it sounded just like that Issie Jenkins girl who went missing last spring...”

...

You might think the folks round here were harmless enough. But you'd be wrong. These seemingly friendly, welcoming people all had their secrets and their shames.

Behind those warm smiles were cruel jaws and shrewd minds waiting to crack you in two...

...

I experienced it firsthand the night I arrived on my grandmother’s doorstep.

The dewey mist clung to my skin with a chill that curdled in my bones. I shuffled awkwardly in my scuffed shoes, only just reaching the doorbell from my tippytoes. The hollow sound resounded through the dark halls of my grandmother's house for the third eternity.

“Oh what a sweet little girl you are pip!" cooed a voice through the cold. A motherly figured emerged from the mists, all pastel smiles that smelt faintly of fresh bread and cammomile tea. "What an unusual hour to wander into our little town, hm?"

I caught my breath. A rescuer!

"So tell me, little one, what realm of nightmares did you spawn from?"

A gaunt hand curled around my shoulders as my blood iced over. I jerked away but her fingers clawed into my flesh as she held me fast and peered at me with those heartless eyes.

"You can tell aunty Irene, I’m already onto you anyway, dearie. My underclothes are made of steel, so don’t you try nothing now, or they’ll burn your little faehands right down to your festering core, won’t they now? hmm?"

*bang*

[A figure cast against the sudden light in the hallway.]

Grandma: “Damn you, blasted woman! Can't keep out of other people's buisness, can you? Get away from my niece or I’ll tell the whole town about what you’re really up to during your little ”weaving wednesdays." She quoted with her fingers, and at that Irene steeled her jaw, her pale skin betraying her lingering fear.

With an obstinant flourish the claws were gone and I was falling back into the bushes, a pair of warm arms steadying me as my grandmother hurried me behind her legs and into the light of the doorway.

Irene: "I’d like to see you try, Gladys! You’re lucky I left a pie in the oven and have to return home to check on it! Damn woman, don't think I'm not onto you and your witchy ways!" Her voice drifted away on the rolling fogs as her form receded into the night.

We both lingered on the doorstep for a moment, staring after her, the shadows flitting in the spaces beyond the gas streetlights. They clung to cobbled street corners and nestled under eaves, pressing in on us, and soon I found myself inching into the hallway as I felt suddenly suffocated by this alien place.

I wanted to go home.

I wanted my mother.

I didn't want to be here, not for another second, not for one accursed moment...

A sharp voice cut through my growing discontent.

"well then." she turned to me, "Pip, is it?"

I nodded at her, wide-eyed and dumbstruck. The pause between us lengthened to miles.

Snippets of distant conversation rocked on the breeze. The fog coveted secrets, it clung to them, it shifted and smothered and tossed them around like a current to a sea of unsuspecting ears.

Irene: I’m telling you, that Gladys lady is a witch! Why do you think she stays cooped up in that old creepy place all day instead of mingling with us good folk? I tell you, she’ll be slandering my good name next! Just you wait!"

Grandmother sighed. She looked at me once more, and for a rare moment her stern visage softened to something tenderly familliar.

"You have her eyes," said the stranger I'd never known, as she invited me into her home that chilly, lonely night.

As for today, today was just like any other day - filled with rumour, heresay and fear mixed in with the occasional grain of truth that made everything all the more harrowing.

Harold: I'm telling you, I saw The Beast! It was only for a moment, but I could smell it's musk on the breeze, and I swear it turned and peered right through my soul. Clever eyes, it had. I tell you, my blood ran cold, and I knew in a moment just what must of taken that poor girl-"

I sighed, my hands tightening around the empty basket handle until my knuckles were white. Another set of dissapearances happened over winter passed - the time of year where everyone just accepted there'd be casualties and tried to live through the cold weather. Now the world was warming up into spring, and there was talk of finding the "lost ones".

But that was it. It would only be talk, muddled among a few half-hearted rescue attempts here and there, eventually being set to bed with the self-gratifying knowledge of "at least we tried." Mark them down as lost and be suspicious should they return... that was the way of Mistweave.

A warm hand tapped my shoulder, and just like that a familliar figure fell into pace beside me. It was the kind of welcome presence that made you think of home. I relaxed.

"Well hello, stranger." WF cheered, his tone quieting as he recognised my gloomy state of mind. He tilted his head thoughtfully, a wave of realisation washing over his face as Harold's tale wafted passed us. "Ah," WF murmured, giving me a knowing look. "it's one of those days..."

"It was a horrid thing, all moss and woodwork, blending right in between the trees. Gave me such a fright, but I knew just what to look for of course, and I steeled myself and stared right back into the blighter's eyes. And just like that, it turned tail and fled from my presence."

But I've worked it out. It's a stalker, see. Doesn't like it's prey to know it's there. Likes to get the drop on you." In the distance Harold curled his hands up into stubby claws that looked more daft then frightening.

WF grinned his infamous grin. "I reckon if his tales get any taller, we'll be able to climb them into the clouds and catch falling stars with fishing nets." he cooed, distracting me long enough with the sheer strangeness of his turn of phrase to scoop my basket right up out of my hands.

"Hey, I need that!" I called after him with mock indignance, watching the bukly gent dance away with an elaborate flourish that he really couldn't pull off. I almost smiled at how ludicrous he looked.

Almost.

"You know," he continued, "You should look on the bright side. We get all this free entertainment here in Mistweave. Those poor folk from the city don't know what they're missing." He presented the basket to me, teetering it on the end of his fingertips as I reclaimed it.

"Pff."

I let the basket sway lazily by my side as we fell back into step. A pause in our conversation yawned between the sound of our footsteps. It mingled with the quiet chirping of birds from some nearby tree, and died as I realised soon we'd be at the market and there'd be less time for conversation with my childhood friend.

"You're cheerful, as always. I have no idea how you manage it."

"It's the high fibre in my diet." I cast him a dark look, but felt my resolve dissolving. WF always put me at ease.

He weighed my words carefully for a moment. "I think you have to be, to keep up with the weirdness in this town. It's all too doom and gloom otherwise. So come on now, where's that smile? I swear I almost caught sight of it a moment ago. I was about to toll the bells and mark the day down on my calender as a new holiday. Think I'd make a good Prophet of Pip?" He threw a lopsided glance at me.

I gripped my basket. Plod, plod, plod.

He continued, unperturbed. "You know, I'm convinced this whole gloomy-doom thing you do is a giant conspiracy you created when we were kids." really? now that piqued my interest.

Oh come on now, that's rediculous WF! Do you really think I'd waste a decade of my life in tortured self-isolation on purpose?" I retorted.

"Maybe you knew I was shy and needed an excuse to talk to you." he breezed by me to the edge of the square, the hubbub of conversation bubbling around us.

"Pah! Since when are you shy?" I laughed.

"There's that smile." He said simply, and I didn't know what to say.

WF melted into the crowd, his affectionate smile lingering in my mind's eye as my fears - for a little while, at least - melted away with him.

• Don't you ever get scared? •