Being afraid in Knowlton Rings

Last week, I visited Knowlton Rings - there's a ruined Norman church, set exactly in the middle of a Neolithic henge - I'd read in The Flying Saucer Vision about young men and women being left in such places for gods from the sky - I devour eagerly such crazy stuff - I've always had a hankering for the paranormal, for UFOs, for parallel worlds - I long for the ordered visible world to be shaken -

The English Heritage information board told me that the site symbolised "the transition from pagan to Christian worship" - a number of ghost hunters' websites spoke of the place being haunted - there were reports of orbs, cold spots, communication with spirits, an image of a snake's head, a pentagram -

I drove across Salisbury Plain in the red Peugeot, turning off the main road for the Rings - the narrow lanes took me past huge fields, hills with dark woods upon their crests, tumuli half glimpsed under the sky - I saw a sign pointing to the Cursus - 

I then saw the tower of the church, and the Rings - I parked next to the Volvo of a jolly family -

I went through a wrought iron gate, into the space enclosed by the Rings - circular banks of smooth turf swept round the shattered hull of the church - there were two ancient yews, at the rear of the circle - sheep grazed on the field beyond -

I walked along the top of the bank - a barrow rose up from the grass about a hundred yards away - there were trees on its summit, one of which was dead and black - I imagined the horrible thin creature in the M R James story, stealing down the slopes of the barrow -

I walked to the yews - it was very dark between them - there were many ribbons and cords tied to the branches - a small gold star dangled from one branch - a sudden wind blew up - the grass seethed around my feet - I felt suddenly very anxious - I walked quickly to the church -

Inside the roofless nave, I looked closely at the lichened stones, at the flints and mortar of the roofless walls - I looked up at a square of sky, framed by the open tower -

I thought - I must leave here - going back to the car, I glanced round, at the tower - I half expected to see faces looking out of the dark empty windows -

On one of the websites, I later read about the knot charms on the yews - a sign, apparently, of Wiccan magic - I also learned that the lost village of Knowlton was called Chenoltune at the time of Edward the Confessor, held by one Aethelmaer - the village was laid waste by the pestilence -