Jun 25, 2026 · 18 min · 7 segments
*The Study of Quiet Things is a serialised gothic folk-horror mystery, written & narrated by Harriet Loveluck.* **In Today's Episode:** **Chapter 6** - Small Village Horrors - Blog Post 2 **Chapter…
I remember the long grass all around me, wet with morning dew.
At first, I thought it was grass tickling my skin, but it wasn't grass.
It was ants.
millions of them, covering my entire body.
I jumped up and screamed and tried to flick them away and they peeled off like a second skin.
It was disgusting.
Even now, hours later, I feel their scratching legs on my body, my scalp, beneath my clothes.
Of course, they're not really there, not anymore.
They're only in my mind, my mind that feels like a A deep crevice, the crack deepening each day.
What is hiding in the back of my head waiting for me? I feel like whatever it is is waiting for me to sleep when I can no longer watch my own thoughts.
And what happened last night? How did I end up in the woods? Last thing I remember was arguing with Mam.
I asked her if she could hear it and she looked at me like I was flipping nuts.
Not that that's unusual.
The sound, I said.
The static sound.
She screamed at me then.
She said, shut up, shut up, shut up.
And it made me think of the fresh graffiti in the park.
It says, there is great power in silence.
But...
Why is everyone so silent? Why am I the only one who wants to talk about this strange feeling in this godforsaken village? I mean, something's not right, man.
You don't even have to look that far into the past to see the strange things are happening here again and again and again.
I know, storming off into my room and slamming the door stinks of teenage angst, but it's a cliché for a reason.
When you have nothing else to do, no power, no way of showing anger, other than slamming your bedroom door as hard as you can, well, that's what you do.
Unless, of course, you're Jo.
I remember the long grass all around me, wet with morning dew.
At first, I thought it was grass tickling my skin, but it wasn't grass.
It was ants.
millions of them, covering my entire body.
I jumped up and screamed and tried to flick them away and they peeled off like a second skin.
It was disgusting.
Even now, hours later, I feel their scratching legs on my body, my scalp, beneath my clothes.
Of course, they're not really there, not anymore.
They're only in my mind, my mind that feels like a A deep crevice, the crack deepening each day.
What is hiding in the back of my head waiting for me? I feel like whatever it is is waiting for me to sleep when I can no longer watch my own thoughts.
And what happened last night? How did I end up in the woods? Last thing I remember was arguing with Mam.
I asked her if she could hear it and she looked at me like I was flipping nuts.
Not that that's unusual.
The sound, I said.
The static sound.
She screamed at me then.
She said, shut up, shut up, shut up.
And it made me think of the fresh graffiti in the park.
It says, there is great power in silence.
But...
Why is everyone so silent? Why am I the only one who wants to talk about this strange feeling in this godforsaken village? I mean, something's not right, man.
You don't even have to look that far into the past to see the strange things are happening here again and again and again.
I know, storming off into my room and slamming the door stinks of teenage angst, but it's a cliché for a reason.
When you have nothing else to do, no power, no way of showing anger, other than slamming your bedroom door as hard as you can, well, that's what you do.
Unless, of course, you're Jo.
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