Southend U3A

Summer's End - Maureen Rampersaud

November 2011

I was watching the journey of a bee moving from flower to flower in Aunt Ethel's herbaceous border. Lying on my stomach, elbows nestling into the neglected and lawn, my hands under my chin, I was feeling somewhat close to contentment. I rolled over onto my back and gazed up at the tree branches swaying and whispering in the breeze.

It was the end of October and I had been sent to my aunt's for a month while mummy and daddy went on a cruise to South America. I pleaded to go with them, but they said it wasn't suitable for children, and anyway I'd be bored.

I hadn't stayed at Samhain before and I found it a strange old place with sloping floors and ceilings, and dark beams everywhere. I had only met aunt once or twice before, so everything was unfamiliar. She was very kind actually. She seemed to understand how I was feeling and let me take my time to settle in. She sensed when I wanted company and, more importantly, when I didn't.

During mealtimes she explained about the history of the house, and that Samhain meant Summer's End from the time of the Celts and their priests called Druids. The site of the house had been their meeting point; she explained that the apple orchard had special significance for them, as did the crop of parasitic mistletoe.

I must have drifted off to sleep in the unseasonal warmth of the Indian Summer. When I opened my eyes, it was dusk. The branches were creaking like an arthritic crone as the wind picked up. An owl hooted and swooped past me. I sat up with a start and heard crackling and a low murmur of voices.

I crawled cautiously towards the sounds coming from the orchard. My heart was pounding, but my curiosity was stronger than my fear. Their voices became clearer and the chanting had a hypnotic effect, drawing me closer. I began to realise that the strange light was coming from a flickering fire and the crackling became louder as I drew nearer.

I peered through the trees and saw a huge bonfire and a group of people in robes. One of them raised his arms and spoke, 'The barriers between this world and the underworld are ready to open. The spirits of the dead will revisit their homes, and gods and strangers from the underworld will walk abroad.

'The ghosts of our dead will return to comfort themselves at the fire before facing the cold and loneliness of the coming winter.

'Let us, the Druid fraternity, celebrate the sacred festival of Samhain at the dying rays of the sun.'

Daylight had gone and by the light of the fire I saw the earth crack open. A ghostly army arose as if from the very gates of hell, with terrible groaning and shrieking.

I was petrified as I continued to view the grisly spectacle. Druids and phantoms moved around the conflagration in a macabre dance of the living and the dead.

I started to try to make sense of his vision. Was I dreaming? How could Druids exist in this day and age? I found I was able to move again. I crawled out of the orchard, sprang to my feet and sprinted back to the house.

I expected Aunt Ethel to be frantic with worry, as I guessed it must be very late by now. She was sitting by the fire and didn't even look up as she spoke, 'They always come . . . every year at Summer's end.'