Time for another book recipe! Because it is October, the spookiest month, we’re going to be looking at folk horror. Grab your most flickery torches, we’re heading to the country. But, y’know, the creepy bits.
- One creepy village
- A hapless, city-bred idiot
- Spooky trees
- A grab-bag full of miscellaneous Celtic imagery
- Sinister villagers, possibly with catchphrases
- A beautiful woman who is totally not going to betray the hapless idiot, honest
- A contrived reason to stop your characters going home or calling the police
- A bunch of straw, just, like, everywhere
- Prepare your creepy setting. Your village should be isolated, surrounded by spooky trees and have a bunch of, like, straw bales and that lying around. Because it’s the country.
- Enter your hapless city-boy. It doesn’t matter why he’s here – all that matters is that he is 100% definitely going to die.
- Oh boy, sure is spooky in this spooky village! We’re not leaving though. There’s still seventeen steps to go.
- Let’s meet some spooky villagers! They like to stand around and say meaningless but creepy things. It’s a quaint countryside pastime.
- Introduce your beautiful woman to the hapless idiot. She’s not like the other villagers – she’s hot.
- A mysterious thing has happened! Better investigate. Ooh, look at how Celtically spooky things are.
- Have another encounter with some spooky villagers. They’ll say cryptic things at you, but it’s probably fine. This is just what passes for fun when you can’t get reliable internet.
- Have a brief moment of contact with the outside world. Your hapless idiot could go home, but he won’t, because I said so and this is my blog.
- But oh look, here comes the only babe in the village! We can leave later – once we’ve got her number, amirite??
- The village’s resident hottie agrees to help the hapless idiot investigate the spooky things. It’s not a trap.
- Uh-oh, things are definitely getting spookier! Uncover some sort of vaguely mystic Celtic nonsense that’ll set things up for the final act.
- Have an encounter with a spooky villager, but, like, a really scary one. If you end up running through the woods, you’re doing it right.
- Oh no, someone has attacked the village hottie and NOW WE MUST SAVE HER. Celebrate by making out a bunch.
- One last encounter with the outside world! The hapless idiot is offered the chance to leave, but he doesn’t take it because the clue’s in his name.
- Spooky things are happening more often! Almost like there’s only five steps to go…
- Uncover the village’s spooky, spooky secret. It’s, like, totally scary.
- Oh no, a thing has happened which means you can’t leave the village!
- The village hottie reveals that she was working with the rest of the creepy villagers all along! You feel so betrayed – but mainly you feel scared, because they all want to kill you.
- Run away! Time for a last-minute dash to safety. Here’s where you find out if all your cardio paid off…
- Hooray, you made it! Back in civilisation, you’re totally safe from creepy straw bales and corn dollies – until HAHA SURPRISE THE SPOOKY GOT YOU
The End. OR IS IT??
- Always set it in autumn. It is the spookiest season.
- Don’t feel you have to get specific about the kind of spooky stuff that’s going on. Just make vague allusions to Celtic-sounding things and you’ll probably be fine.
- Make sure to talk about the full moon at least three times.
- Keep the technology to a minimum. Googling the spooky stuff is all well and good, but it’s nowhere near as effective as looking it up in a mysterious old tome.
- Always have your creepy villagers say something like ‘you don’t belong here’, or ‘we don’t take kindly to strangers round these parts’.
- If in doubt, chuck in some vague paganism.
- Make good use of your agricultural props. Corn dollies – check. Rusty old farm tools – check. Spooky scarecrows – double check. Blue plastic tarps and government-subsidised windfarms – maybe not.
And here’s one I prepared earlier…
John turned up the collar of his jacket against the cold. Wind whistled through the trees as he approached the old pub in the distance. The lights in the windows were the only signs of life for miles around. But it would be worth it. In a place like Grimbrooke, he could write his masterpiece.
There was no better place for an aspiring writer. No Internet, no TVs and only one phone line in the whole village – in short, there would be no distractions. True, every time he passed an animal it turned its head and hissed at him, but that was probably just a countryside thing. He’d never been great with cows.
A shape loomed out of the darkness. John flinched and swung his torch around; it was only a scarecrow. Dressed in a ragged old smock and with a carved pumpkin for a head, it had one arm propped up to point towards the pub. Rustling came from the field behind it.
“How convenient!” he said.
He kept walking. The road was narrow and winding, and overshadowed by trees on both sides. Every now and then the path twisted, blocking out the lights in the pub windows, and he was left stranded in the dark. He wished he’d been able to get the taxi driver to take him all the way up to the pub doors. He’d asked, but the man had shuddered and said “Be nowt in Grimbrooke for the likes o’ ye,” and he’d driven off before John had worked out what accent he was supposed to have.
He passed by another scarecrow. For some reason, this one was hanging from a tree by a noose, pumpkin head grinning. He looked at it for a little while and decided that it made sense. It was definitely scarier that way.
There was some more rustling. John ignored it. It was probably just the wind – but then, a man dressed all in black stepped out of the trees. He was old, with a scraggly beard and wide, staring eyes.
He made a vaguely agricultural noise before saying “Tha’d best go home, stranger.”
“Hello,” said John. That was probably what the old guy had meant. “Can you tell me if I’m on the right path for The Grimbrooke Arms? I can hardly see where I’m going with all these trees.”
The old man wheezed at him. “T’Grimbrooke Arms? Aye, ‘tis yonder. But why ye should go tae such a dark and eldritch place, on tonight of all nights…”
John was still struggling with the accent. “Eldritch? Isn’t that just a sort of square?”
The old man waved a knobbly finger in John’s face. “Dinnae come roond here wi’ yer fancy city ways and yer Pratchett references! We Grimbrookers are a proud people, ootsider, and ye’ve no business here!”
“I’m sorry,” said John, wondering how far away they were from the Scottish border, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
The old man nodded and fell into step beside him. “Aye, well, tha knows nowt of the old ways.”
The pub was growing closer now. John could see the little round windows and the big bales of straw stacked up outside. They passed by some more scarecrows. They all had pumpkins instead of heads – one of them with a knife stuck in it – and their ragdoll bodies had been bent to spell out the word ‘NOPE’.
“What are the old ways?”
The old man chuckled, spookily. “If tha goes t’Grimbrooke Arms, tha’ll find out.”
“Look,” said John, finally cracking, “where exactly are you from?”
The old man ignored him and pointed up at the pub. The trees had thinned back to show a small, squat building hunkered down beside a river. There were two more pumpkin-headed scarecrows outside: one holding a long, red candle and a tall pitchfork, and the other holding up the specials board.
“’Tis yer last chance, stranger,” said the old man. “Tha stands at a crossroads. Doon one path lies the familiar, doon the other leads…well, doom. Only tha can choose.”
John shifted his backpack higher onto his shoulder. “I’m just here to write a book.”
The old man looked interested. “Will ye put me in it?”
“If you like.”
“Then I’ll give tha three pieces of advice. One: dinnae trust a crow. Two: keep away fra’ the auld Grimbrooke estate, ye’ll find nae comfort there. And three – ” and now, he beckoned John closer, and whispered in his ear “ – try the special. They’ve a kale and quinoa-stuffed butternut squash yonder that’s to die for.”
My full book-cookbook can be found here. Let me know what you’d like me to look at next – and as always, take this recipe with a pinch of salt.