I spent my early teens living in a town just beyond the borders of a liminal landscape, the East Anglian Fens. I don’t remember how I first heard the stories, but I grew up knowing, as if they had seeped beneath my skin, old tales of the foggy Fens, inhabited by evil bogles, boggarts and will-o’-the-wisps and haunted by the cold touch of ghosts. Althoug…
© 2024 Laura Pashby
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