A full moon. I’m up to the church on the hill to film spiders.
Faint murmuring of music quietly echoes around the gravestones.
When I slip inside the ruined church a sad solo cello is quietly groaning. I can’t see where it’s coming from.
Looming from out of the shadows is a figure on the floor. Dead silent, and still. A body left unattended, awaiting burial? Gulp.
The solitary cello sounds like it’s reverberating from the ground up, whispering and whining from within the stones.
I’m about to be spooked when the cello loudly lurches out into an upswell of swollen strings.
The corpse in the corner suddenly moves its leg.
It’s a middle-aged man laid out on the ground. In this dark ruined church. On his own. Looking up to the full moon shrouded in clouds.
Listening to John Taveners Protecting Veil.
Probably having an epiphany.
Until I turned up.
Words & Vid: Ian Nisbet