Folklore Takes Center Stage In Icelandic Author Villimey Mist's New Fiction Collection 'What Protects Our Heritage and Other Aberrations'

Folklore is the wellspring from which almost all horror derives. Many of the genre’s most familiar stock figures evolved directly from those superstitious yarns of old, passed down by our primitive ancestors as warnings about the dangers lurking in the dark bowers of man’s domain. The vampire, the werewolf, the zombie, ghosts and ghouls—each began, once upon a time, as tales told in hushed whispers around a campfire, tales that over time become the legends we know today. Every region of the globe has its own distinct folklore, and the horror genre has seemingly plundered them all over the decades for its selfish creative needs, to the point where it seems audiences have become cynical, even bored, by standard tropes and ideas. Rare is the author that truly awakens fear or, better still, awe, in a reader, and rarer still is one who captures the essence of folklore in the creative and unique ways as Icelandic author Villimey Mist has in her new Brigid’s Gate Press fiction collection, What Protects Our Heritage and Other Aberrations.

Following a brief introduction by Kev Harrison, What Protects Our Heritage commences with the suitably dark opener, ‘The Girl With The Hooves’, a rustic scenario told from the perspective of a deformed girl abused by her relatives who ultimately learns the truth behind her monstrous appearance. An epistolary story relayed through email exchanges, ‘They Came From The Rocks’ is about an Icelandic drilling team beset by vengeful forces for tampering with the environment. Traumatized by the accidental drowning death of her son, Sarah agrees to a vacation in Reykjavik with her friend only to fall prey to a sinister spectral horse. A woman worries her strange neighbor might be a witch intent on stealing her soul in the moody flash fiction piece ‘The Hag’s Gift’, while the puckish titular troublemakers wreak havoc with evermore violent Christmastime pranks in ‘The Yule Lads Are Coming’. A brother and sister who’ve lived their entire lives in a computer-controlled underground bunker decide its ‘The Perfect Time’ to explore the barren surface world once their supplies run out.

Similar to its companion collection Visceral Discoveries (released by Macabre Maiden Press this past September), this new compilation clocks in at a relatively thin 150 pages. Despite its slimness, however, What Protects Our Heritage still packs powerful literary punch, even more so than its predecessor. All of the author’s usual pet themes are covered: societal injustice, feminine rage, revenge, respect for nature, the bond between siblings. One testament to her skill are the tonal shifts between each entry; some stories are resolutely grim n’ gory, others madcap, while still others have a distinct melancholic atmosphere. The book’s greatest asset, though, is Mist’s usage of her native mythology that offers readers a singular (and authentic) view into a cultural backdrop largely unexplored by mainstream horror writers. And while each story is worthy of inclusion, four warrant special praise due to their inventiveness and overall execution.

A group of rescuers in search of missing tourists during a blizzard come face-to-face with a gruesome creature in the volume’s concluding novella, ‘What Protects Our Heritage: An Icelandic Cryptid Story’. American expat Ben lives and works in Japan and feels the pressure to join in his co-workers unusual after-hours partying in the subversively funny ‘All-You-Can-Drink Buffet’. An ode to campy ‘80’s slasher flicks of yore, ‘The Tupperware Party’ is a fun balls-to-the-wall body count bloodbath in a serene suburban setting that’s sure to elicit as many sick grins as it does shrieks.

But by far the masterpiece of What Protects Our Heritage is ‘Survival Of The Fittest’. Told from the point of view of a blood-starved vampire survivor of a nuclear holocaust who unwittingly bonds with a radiation-poisoned disabled girl she intends to drain dry, it’s an unflinchingly earnest and moving meditation on life, death, friendship, forgiveness and, ultimately, self-acceptance. As in her Nocturnal series of bloodsucker novels, Mist takes the time to humanize her undead protagonist, and by placing them in a post-apocalyptic landscape transfuses new blood (pun intended) into an often overworked subgenre.

In a day when most authors are content to blithely redress the same exhausted premises in tattered rags and dub them innovation, Mist’s bold, energetic prose and distinct knowledge of Iceland’s mythic narratives underscores an array of underutilized genre concepts. Coupled with a delightfully morbid sense of humor, those elements elevate this collection to a vital top tier of modern independent horror strongly deserving of appreciation by any fan seeking fiction uncontaminated by pretense, posturing or pandering, and it’s these qualities that earn What Protects Our Heritage and Other Aberrations the full 5 (out of 5) on my Fang Scale. I can’t wait to see what aberrations Ms. Mist conjures next.