Yesterday I was in Grasmere, the Lake District with some work colleagues. We did a 13-mile hike, which involved climbing a peak called Pavey Ark via a Grade 1 scramble known as Jack's Rake. The scramble was my favourite part of the trip - climbing up a gulley along the side of the huge rock, a fatal drop on one side and a cliff face on the other. I scampered up there like a giddy little monkey, finding hand and foot holds with ease and often simply pulling myself over tricker parts. A big smile plastered across my face.
It struck me that such a location would be a great setting for a hard-edged horror story. I can't think of any horror films or novels set there, although that doesn't mean it hasn't been done. I have that vague tingling at the back of my mind that oftend signals the beginning of a writing project - a novella, maybe, perhaps about a group of people on a walking trip who stumble across something more ancient than even the hills, and disturb its slumber. If nothing else, the research would be immensely enjoyable.
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