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I pulled my satchel close, all my belongings within it. My eyes were fixed on the words across the stone, their possible meanings a mystery to me.
"Miss?" A voice startled me, making me jolt back in a fright. When my hazel eyes peered up at the perpetrator, a small smile fell on my lips. It was an old woman, and she clung to her cardigan for warmth with the gentlest smile. "Are you alright there?"
I smiled, nodding slightly. "I'm fine thank you," I answered. "This stone just caught my eye, I suppose."
"Well," She said, stepping closer. Her features were no longer in the form of a smile, and had instead contorted into a look of slight concern. "It's best to come away from that stone. Strange things happen down there."
I nodded again, as if I understood her meaning. As a rational academic, my mind rebelled against the ideas of superstition. Old wives tales never frightened me, as I knew there was no truth. But as much as my mind wanted to rebel, to laugh like the stone was ridiculous and so were any superstitions surrounding it, I couldn't shake that shiver down my spine or the tingling on the back of my neck. My hairs stood on end each time I looked at it, as though perhaps I shouldn't just dismiss this woman.
And perhaps there was some truth to this old tale.
"It's been there all my life, my dear." She explained, pouring us both a cup of tea. "And I know my grandmother said the same to me as a child. No one really knows how long it's been there, or how it's survived so long... But somehow it has." She persisted, dunking the end of her ginger biscuit into the warm embrace of the golden tea. "When I was a lass, two lads from my school went looking to see what all the fuss was about. They heard swords clashing from within the stone, and one word being yelled; 'rauðr'."
Again, chills ran down my spine. I knew what it meant, I'd heard my father too many times to not recognize it. "Old Norse?" I asked with my nose pulled up. "Who on earth would be speaking Old Norse?"
"Not on earth." She answered, grasping my hand. "That thing.... It's a path straight to Hell, I tell you. And if you go near it, you'll get sucked in!"
At this, I almost had to hold back a laugh. I knew it was rude, as this woman firmly believed all that she said and she was only telling me to protect me. But a portal to hell? In York? It was ridiculous. People getting sucked in? A whole person does not just disappear. They don't just vanish into a rock with the fairies. It was utterly preposterous.
"Thank you for your time Mrs Marley, but I ought to return to my parents. I'll try to avoid the rock now that I know." I smiled politely, finishing the cup of Earl Grey that she'd kindly poured me. I decided that it'd be best to leave, to return to my parents and go to sleep. All this strange mystical rhetoric had exhausted me. Magical stones and Vikings? Surely the boys were making it up to scare people, or perhaps they'd been intoxicated at the time. Either way, it was impossible and I simply couldn't listen to any more.
As I stepped away, the old lady grabbed my arm making me jump. I looked down at her, slightly startled as I saw the seriousness in her eyes. "Be careful." She said. "I can see your exactly the kind of person that the stone chooses." She stared at me for a moment, an intense stare as though she could see into my soul. After a time, she let go of my arm and held my hand. "Good luck, my dear."
Walking back, my mind was clouded with thoughts - random nonsensical things like the smell of rain and chips at Scarborough fair when I was 11, or the soft melody of the bird chime outside my bedroom window. My footsteps were uneven, my breathing heavy and my heart racing. Why I was scared I still don't know. Perhaps it was some primal part within myself, a part that knew no matter how ridiculous the old woman's prophecies seemed... Within them remained some truth.
My ankle bent in that odd way that they sometimes do, a sharp pain shooting up my leg as I tripped and fell. Unaware of my surroundings, I tumbled down a small hill, the ground bashing my stomach as I fell and scraping my arms as I tried to brace myself. I thanked all the Gods that at least there were no stinging nettles there. That certainly would've made for a far less enjoyable experience. Not that falling down a strange mud hill was enjoyable.
When I reached the bottom of the hill, the last thing I saw were those same ominous letters 'Leave' as my head collided with the cold stone at the bottom.
