There’s a pleasant village in rural Lancashire that you might find yourself in. It’s hard to say why, but there is a feeling of light and calm in this village, and you find yourself wanting to spend time there. This feeling only grows as you encounter some of the people who live there: they are friendly and kind, and you walk away from each of them thinking what a decent person that was. They each shine with goodness and a kind of purity that leaves you feeling humbled.
Walk down a back lane and through a kissing gate and then down the muddy path to the riverside, and you will see a very old woman from the village on the bank, plunging her hands into the water over and over.
You have happened to arrive on washing day, and the woman is washing out the sins of the village. You have met the villagers when they are as clean as the day they were born.
Do not drink the water. It is black and thick and bitter and tastes of murder and lust and betrayal and spite and revenge.
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