Chapter One

Freya pulled the metal hatch shut checking the lock was secure. Her mothers voice always in her head ‘double check and then triple check’. Her mother had a ‘thing’ about security. She unzipped the bright yellow cratch cover which kept her boat stern dry. She glanced along the canal and smiled as the autumnal leaves floated daintily from the trees, the kaleidoscope of colours striking against the bright blue sky.

She stepped carefully off the boat, her wellies sinking into the already muddy towpath as she pondered on the juxtaposition of wearing a coat, thick jeans, a brightly coloured jumper her cousin had knitted and her Audrey Hepburn sunglasses slotted firmly in place, on some would say, her longer than it needed to be, nose. The glasses would soon be put into hibernation as the clocks changed that weekend and Summertime officially ended.

The chimney smoke twirled into the sky and promised a cosy afternoon under her blanket with a hot chocolate as she caught up on some life admin. Even Tarot readers needed to answer emails and she had a few days before she saw her next client. She wondered if the Tarot readers of the past would be shocked that she gave readings mostly over zoom.

‘Hi.’

Freya turned away from the Robin which had landed on the bird feeder on her narrowboat roof to see a couple walking their dogs, ‘Hi. Lovely morning she called as she turned, wanting to enjoy the walk without distractions. It was nice that people always wanted to stop and chat but she felt an overwhelming urge to go and visit the church she’d spotted on the canal map and see as she’d cruised down Oxford canal. One of the joys of her lifestyle was having the opportunity to visit and photograph churches were one of her passions.

‘Do you live on the boat?’

Freya secured her camera strap over her head and put her keys and phone in her rucksack which already contained some water and a cloth.

‘Yes, just over a year now.’

As she spoke to the couple Freya was transported back to the day she had joined her friend who was having a midlife crisis and had decided to buy a boat only to realise she didn’t like the idea of emptying the toilet. Freya, however, had fallen in love with it and on a whim put down a deposit and bought the boat, much to her parents’ dismay of her constant rebellion to live an alternative life. Having not long escaped from a terrible relationship and the money from the house sale in the bank, it was just the change Freya was looking for and she’d thrived, even on the days she’d faced one challenge after another.

Finishing the conversation Freya said goodbye and started her journey to the church her hand firmly secured on her precious camera. It had been the one thing she’d taken when she’d split up with Stuart. It had been her sister’s camera and only the fact that she’d lost her sister only a year ago stopped Stuart from arguing about her taking it. She would have let him have everything, she’d wanted a clean slate but her solicitor had made sure she walked away with the money she was owed.

Freya gasped and her hand flew to her heart as a duck flew so close she felt it’s wing glance her tussled main of auburn hair which she’d tried and failed to tame over the years. The duck called out its displeasure as if she’d been the one to get in its way.

‘Rude.’ Freya called after the departing duck as she walked past the swing bridge over the Oxford Canal and made her way along the gravelled tow path towards the bridge. Holding the camera close she navigated the wooden stile and jumped down into the field which had been bone dry the other day but after the last few days of rain promised to challenge the top of her wellies.

Freya was surprised she had the fields to herself as normally there were dog walkers or ramblers a plenty in this area but there wasn’t a soul about. In the distance she could see the next part of the promised weather front incoming and felt her stove fire calling to her.

‘Not yet.’ She mumbled under her breath.

She followed the muddy path carefully over a troll bridge and spun three times, something her friend, Ali always apologised for if they were together and anyone saw them. She would mouth, ‘it’s the tablets.’

At twenty five Freya still firmly believed that despite it being the daytime and obvious reason that everyone knew trolls didn’t come out in the daytime, but if you turned three times then it would confuse the trolls and they wouldn’t be able to find you.

Safe from the trolls she was out of breath as she reached the top of the hill and took a moment to appreciate the enchanting forest as far as the eye could see and the large blue sky which, judging by the dark clouds in the distance and the met office weather app was going to change very soon. Autumn was her favourite time of year, maybe because her birthday was smack in the middle of the month and made her very firmly in the Libra star sign. This month was always associated with parties and good times despite the impending lack of daylight hours.

Her camera swung painfully against her chest as she spun around as the force of the sudden wind pushed her backwards. ‘What the hell.’ She called, her words lost in the maelstrom surrounding her. Freya screamed and held her camera tight about her, grabbing at scarf with her other hand to stop it whipping her face. She crouched on the floor, making herself as small as she could. The noise was deafening.

Freya nearly fell on her backside as suddenly, all was calm and she could hear the birds foraging for their winter food. Some part of herself laughed as she imagined herself falling backwards onto the muddy patch. Wouldn’t that make a humorous YouTube short.

Standing up she looked around but the sky hadn’t changed, no more darkness than before, the autumnal leaves were settled on the ground as they were before as if they hadn’t been touched. Odd, but it wasn’t as if odd things didn’t happen to her all the time. She was a magnet for the unusual which was why she lived this life. Although this experience was definitely up there in the ‘very odd’ category.

Setting her clothes and dignity back in order she placed her wellies carefully between the uneven cobbles as she walked towards the church gate on high alert for any more sudden weather fronts. She removed her sunglasses and tucked them into her bag, just in case. Lifting her camera, she trained her eye to catch the perfect picture of the sunlight glinting through the unusual wrought iron gate. She moved the camera away from her eye as caught a flicker of movement through the gate, squinting to find the source of the flash of orange. She frowned, not seeing anything and crouched back down to take a few more shots of the gate.

She took off her gloves and ran her hand over the cold iron gate, tracing the unusual and rather macabre shape of what looked like a bird pecking the eyes of another animal. It had worn through in places and was rusty around the edges but it struck Freya as a strange choice for a church gate. Then again she mussed, look at the architecture on some of the churches, gargoyles and such like. Feeling the cold she grateful put her hands back in the thermal lined gloves and opened the gate. She half expected it to creak and chuckled to herself. Her schoolteachers had always said she would have done better at school if she wasn’t such a fantasy daydreamer.

Stepping into the graveyard she sighed with pleasure, she loved walking through graveyards; her friends said she was weird, but to her, life ended in death – she had experienced enough to not fear it. It wasn’t something to mourn while you were here, life was here to enjoy, explore, and experience. She believed that when people died, their essence went back into the earth, and the cycle began again. Their essence made up the world, so people never really died; therefore, there was no reason to sink into despair no matter the desire. Sure, like most people she had lost people and she was upset that the physical person wasn’t with her, but if you listened, they were there, waiting to be heard.

Shaking herself she focused on job in hand. She ducked under the overhead branches which were blocking out most of the natural sunlight, only thin shafts of light penetrated though. The perfect light, she would be able to capture some amazing pictures. A few more leaves dropped to the ground as the wind picked up again. She braced herself but it was just the wind, nothing to worry about.

The flash of orange caught her eye again and she lifted her camera instinctively. Her breath caught as she zoomed in, finding a gap in the trees and settled on stunning, burnt orange fox sitting on a grave, his bushy tail wrapped around its feet. She clicked a few pictures worried it would run away but she was luckier than most, as animals and birds seemed to not mind her presence.

Satisfied with her pictures, she pushed her luck and moved through the trees. The fox tracked her movement but didn’t seem to be in a rush to run away. Two squirrels ran across the top of the tree above the fox and joined two already sitting on the branch, still and watchful. Freya frowned.

She shivered as she made her way closer. There was a stillness in the air, she didn’t feel scared exactly. Churches and graveyards were normally her calm place but this felt unsettling. Her boot scrunched on some gathered leaves on a grave where the name had long worn off. Countless times she made up stories based on any part of the name she could read. Some of them invoked times of Dickens; Mr Clutterbuck or here lies Fanny Blatherwick.

Freya was a foot away from the fox, it tilted its head ever so slightly towards the gravestone. With difficulty, she dragged her gaze away and her heart stopped…

Freya Longton

 Born 13.10.1990 Died 13-10-2030

Beloved daughter, wife and friend.

Taken too soon