"Out of Darkness—A Familiar Voice" by Melanie Crew
Melanie Crew shares a story of hers from WFQ's "Folk Horror" issue from this spring.
As I mentioned in a previous installment, I'm running behind on my typical holiday schedule. It was only last night that I pulled our artificial tree out of the garage, rearranged the living room, sheathed it in lights, and stacked the ornament boxes next to it, for my wife to finish decorating. (Our division of labor has me doing setup, while she puts on the finishing touches, typically while watching some holiday schlock - Hot Frosty seems to be on the agenda this year.) In addition to getting the tree put up, I'm also running behind on my gift purchases.
I bring this up to remind you to stick around after the story for some weird fiction recommendations for the enthusiasts in your own circles (or for treatin' yo- self for making it through the season).
Today's yarn is one of our more typical 500-word flash fiction pieces that first appeared in our spring Folk Horror 2024 installment. In this one, frequent WFQ contributor Melanie Crew weaves a tale of Greta trekking around Georgia's Lavender Mountain to learn more about the fate of her Oma Lottie.
Out of Darkness—A Familiar Voice
by Melanie Crew
Dense gray fog billowed down the ridge, oozing from the backdrop of the dawn’s violet and orange sky, like an ominous William Blake painting. Greta snapped a photo to revisit later, as something about this strange phenomena spurred her onward. She continued her trek towards the foothills of Lavender Mountain, where it was said that her ancestor Oma Lottie’s village once stood—and from whence the old woman, along with the entire community, allegedly vanished not long after it was founded. Her mother regaled her with this curious tale while in a state of confusion on her deathbed not two months prior. Greta, albeit a skeptic, welcomed the distraction and took off to discover what happened to her family’s missing matriarch.
Heading towards the darkening mountain in the distance, Greta reached an abandoned clearing enclosed by a teetering stone perimeter wall—bare bones of what she could only assume was once a thriving community. She traced a pair of large, unfamiliar eye-shaped symbols that’d been carved deep into the stones atop a pair of crumbling pillars that flanked the entry point. Inside, gutted skeletal remains of a couple dozen chimneys marked the sites where houses must have stood, like a long-forgotten and neglected graveyard.
Strangely, she found no signs of an actual cemetery—further establishing the possibility that her mother’s account could be true.
Greta trailed the wall that led to a small grove of deep-rooted crepe myrtles in full bloom, nestled in the far corner—the only living things captive behind the collapsing walls.
Or so she thought.
Their fire-colored flowers sat brazen on long, upward-reaching branches against the angry sky, which was mirrored in the broken shards of blue and brown glass bottles scattered beneath the trees. Now this is familiar, she thought, as she spotted a solitary bottle still hanging from one of the lower branches.
Traps them evil spirits, her oma would say when Greta scrunched her nose while trying to figure out why oma hung such things from her own crepe myrtle tree.
Greta pulled the limb down to eye level and deciphered the embossed lettering across the bottom of the bottle, which revealed that it was manufactured in Milton, West Virginia in 2015—much newer than the fragments beneath her feet. Hmm, she thought, releasing the branch, careful not to harm the talisman. Someone was still protecting the ruins, and Greta didn’t want to stick around to find out who.
But something in the reflection of the cool blue glass piqued her curiosity. As she gazed deeper into the bottle, she noticed that the fog which had poured from the ridge earlier that morning now engulfed the space between the crumbling walls of the village behind her.
Greta blinked, then broke away, bolting for the entryway. She crossed over the threshold and the fog met her head-on, swallowing everything in sight.
Out of the darkness came a familiar voice.
Greta, draped in fog, vanished as it crept back up the ridge of Lavender Mountain.
As is usually the case, we had a few questions for Melanie...
WFQ: What was your favorite weird fiction that you read this past year?
MC: My TBR ("to be read" -ed.) pile is a never ending adventure into the Weird and disturbing and I hope it never dwindles - keep the creepy coming! This year I was able to dig into some gems. Gemma Files' Blood from the Air is dreadful in the best ways ("Twilight State" and "Fin De Siecle" were a few favorites). Paula D. Ashe's We Are Here To Hut Each Other is another killer collection. Her story "Carry On, Carrion" was uber creepy - ACK! Teeth! Need I say more? Tiffany Morris' Green Fuse Burning is definitely a must-read, getting down to the nitty gritty and definitely unsettling.
WFQ: What is your favorite weird aspect, character, or story about the holidays?
MC: The myths surrounding the winter holidays have always creeped me out - especially the idea that the bringer of toys (joy) has a propensity for haunting and stalking children <yikes>, and that breaking and entering is not frowned upon for one night of the year - or that demonic evil creatures (Krampus and the like) will punish children who don't behave throughout the year. The idea that these fear tactics to make kiddos behave sometimes replaces parenting (If you don't behave, Santa won't bring you...) - Just a weird observation. And since the winter holidays mark a sort of ending (year), the idea that ghosts appear to scare adults into behaving the following year - there's a whole lotta fear mongering surrounding the holidays and that is definitely an aspect that intrigues.
WFQ: What are you working on for 2025?
MC: I hope to finally release a newly revamped labor of love ("Quickening") out into the wild as well as several other WIPs (works-in-progress -ed.).
WFQ: Where can folks follow you online (other than WFQ)?
MC: I have my site at www.MelanieCrew.com.
In addition to her role as frequent WFQ contributor, Melanie also founded and operates The Cryptid Cannery, where she creates some of the best jams, preserves, jellies, and marmalades. She ships jam and jelly orders within the state of Georgia, but also has a wide range of other merchandise for the rest of us. (I'm personally a fan of the Mothman ornament and Cranberry Vanilla Scones baking mix.) If you feel like your kitchen is missing a Fortean touch, Melanie can help you with that.
That's all for today. Stick around tomorrow for a story out of our first installment of the year, Monsters 2024.