Then yesterday, the rain appeared to ease. Just as I let my dog out of the car (at the top of a particularly lonely and exposed hill I might add), there was an almighty flash and crack of thunder. Dog shot back in the car. As did I. Tempted to climb in cage with her for extra protection. Resisted - got in drivers seat, with quivery legs.
It struck me (no pun intended!) how quickly a gentle, sweeping hill can change to menacing, brooding darkened landscape within a few moments - and how, therefore, pathetic fallacy continues to be a great tool at the fingertips of the Gothic writer!
Here then, is my 'weather change' moment, classic Gothic style:
'That evening, coming as I did to the summit of that gentle, sweeping hill, I saw that the landscape before me was touched with hues of red and gold as the sun threw out her last heavenly rays. How did I not observe, then, the bank of cloud building, dark, ever darker upon the far horizon? For soon - all too soon! - the sky was a black menace that turned all to night; it pressed heavily upon me until I feared I could no longer draw breath! I fell back before it, but it came relentlessly on until field and lane were in deepest shadow; the hairs upon my neck rose; fear clutched at my very soul as I sought shelter - but there was none.
Then the storm hit, and suddenly, all around me was a blaze of white light; a sharp crack of thunder sent me stumbling, crouching beneath its abhorrent blast! I looked, aghast, towards the heavens, fearing for my very life - my shivering soul cried out for mercy! Dear reader, I cannot begin to describe the sinister nature of the change that had swept over those dear hills. I am sure that, if at that moment, I had chosen to let my eye fall upon the woodpile, I should have seen something extremely nasty!'
Quick quiz then: can you spot... Jane Eyre? Frankenstein? Cold Comfort Farm!
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