{"id":1662,"date":"2023-06-23T09:23:27","date_gmt":"2023-06-23T09:23:27","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/?p=1662"},"modified":"2023-06-23T09:23:31","modified_gmt":"2023-06-23T09:23:31","slug":"a-refuge-in-the-storm","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/a-refuge-in-the-storm\/1662\/","title":{"rendered":"A refuge in the storm"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Of course, the forest was dark that night, in these sorts of stories it always is. But, even as I stumbled through the undergrowth, the wind whipping razor-sharp branches into my face like an enraged banshee, I couldn’t allow myself to slow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There it was, by some miracle, a light up ahead. I almost physically stretched toward it, like a dying man in the desert offered a flask of water or, perhaps, to flip the analogy, a drowning man thrown a rope from a passing ship.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What it was, was hope. Lower case, yes, but hope nonetheless.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n

I could make out the outline of a building, painted white. A warm ochre glow flickered invitingly from a window on the ground floor. Surely whoever lived here wouldn\u2019t turn away a traveller, even one as bedraggled as I? A rough stony path approached an unkempt front lawn and certainly made my way easier, with no further tangling of my feet in roots, or risk of cuts and bruises.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As I drew nearer, further details resolved themselves; an arched window on the first floor that wouldn\u2019t have looked out of place containing stained glass in a church, a boards-and-battens construction that, upon reflection, reminded me of something… I just couldn\u2019t place what.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lightning split the sky and, for a moment I swore I saw two figures standing outside in the rain, frozen in time, one holding a… no, it couldn\u2019t be. As my night vision returned they were gone. I shook myself; I didn\u2019t think I should be hallucinating yet, but who knows? There definitely wasn\u2019t anyone there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I limped carefully onto the porch and rapped my knuckles upon the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

No movement, no answer, so I cupped my hands over my eyes, and peered through a window. How wonderful! A real log fire, two comfortable old armchairs, and a bottle of whiskey with two fingers poured into a solitary tumbler. Maybe whoever was inside was in the bathroom? Maybe they didn\u2019t answer the door to strangers on nights like this? I tried knocking again, calling out that I was no threat, and was seeking shelter until the storm had passed. That I could pay. I stuffed a couple of hundred-dollar bills under the door, and waited.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Twenty seconds later, I was desperate. A glance back to the treeline merely reaffirmed my need to escape the maelstrom circling me. Shaking with exhaustion, I tried the handle, and was surprised that it opened with a gentle creak.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHello?\u201d I called, friendly as I could, and retrieved the cash. \u201cHello? I just need to rest for a couple of hours, please? I won\u2019t be any trouble…\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the main room, above the roaring flames, a framed needlepoint sampler read \u201cHome Sweet Home\u201d. I sank gratefully into one of the chairs, then leaned forward to warm my hands and start to dry my clothes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A soft, insistent tapping began to sound from inside the walls.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Outside, hungry, feral eyes watched and waited.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The shadows deepened.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Of course, the forest was dark that night, in these sorts of stories it always is. But, even as I stumbled through the undergrowth, the wind whipping razor-sharp branches into my face like an enraged banshee, I couldn’t allow myself to slow. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"rop_custom_images_group":[],"rop_custom_messages_group":[],"rop_publish_now":"initial","rop_publish_now_accounts":{"facebook_10158782359051062_103813597863211":"","twitter_1225722811282530305_1225722811282530305":""},"rop_publish_now_history":[],"rop_publish_now_status":"pending","_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[695,782],"tags":[114,833,510,167,116,31,12,835,491,148,191,745,755,11,834],"class_list":["post-1662","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-695","category-june-2023-home-sweet-home","tag-but","tag-couldn","tag-even","tag-into","tag-like","tag-man","tag-my","tag-myself","tag-night","tag-no","tag-there","tag-through","tag-two","tag-was","tag-window"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pbrNJE-qO","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1662","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1662"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1662\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1664,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1662\/revisions\/1664"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1662"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1662"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1662"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}