The Haunting of Mary King's Close (No longer writing)

BOOK ONE: Chapter Five

A streak of light streamed in through a crack in the hide and cast down upon Cora, staring directly into her eyes.  She rolled over to her stomach and buried her face in her hands, trying to block the light. But it was no use; morning’s light had already summoned her from welcoming sleep. 

Turning onto her back once more, she quietly slipped out of her bed without disturbing Finlay, who lay face down. She strolled over to the bucket and its strong smell engulfed her being. She held her breath under the trim of her shirt and released her breath when she stepped away.  She knew if Finlay or Gregg did not wake up in the next few moments, she would no longer be able to stand the smell and would be forced to toss it out. 

But overcoming her desperate urge to get rid of the horrid smell, she kept her mind off it by starting to gather morning meal so that when the lads woke, it would be ready.  Cora reached up to the food that was stored in a suspended basket and fished around. After several moments, her hand fell upon the sack of potatoes where she retrieved four.  Next, she found her way to the bag of stale bread and brought it down to the table.

With a dull knife, she somehow managed to snap the potatoes into small pieces before she mixed them together in a mash. She cooked them at a slow rate over the little fire place and in the mean time, wrapped herself in a shawl and skirt. With the bare bones minimal meal ready, Cora figured it was nearly time to wake her father and brothers.

She shook her father first; who responded in two short moments and bounded out of bed as if a muscular invisible hand had dragged him by his neck.  Niall headed straight for the bucket and sighed a breath of relief. Next, Cora headed her way over to Gregg who was not as easy to wake. But sure enough after a few slaps to the back, he pulled himself up and sat upright. Still under sleeps influence, he mumbled a good morning.  His first movement, like his fathers, was to relive himself.

But Finlay was not as simple or willing to wake as the other two had been. He turned to the wall when Cora shook his shoulders and when she ripped the thin cover off his body; he swatted the air by her head. But instead of waking up like he should, all he did was respond by curling up into a tight ball and telling her to go away. But after a solid five minutes of constant pulling limbs, he finally brought his body to a sitting position and Cora left.

Finlay, being the last to wake, groaned loudly as he tipped the bucket out the window; adding to the muddle on the bricks.

The four of them shoved the potato mash into their mouths but saved the bread for last. Wiping the crumbs off their fingertips, they started to clear their wooden plates when suddenly Gregg stopped short. "Ah feel like shite."

The other three stopped curtly and snapped their heads to Gregg's direction. They stared at him for a moment, before the silence was broken by a sharp breath. "So?" Finlay asked with a snort and carrying on his business.  "Stop bein' a babe and shoot up," he cracked at his brother.

But Gregg was persistent and explained his illness with a hurting head and feeling slightly warm, especially considering that it was winter.  Niall pressed his hand against his son's skin and drew back instantly. "Ye ur as warm as caller haggis,” he responded before demanding that Finlay went to fetch a doctor.  Niall pulled Gregg onto his lap and hugged him softly.

"Hoo we gonna pay?" Cora asked, butting into the conversation. Niall shrugged in return and gave Finlay the look to start looking now. "Da, what if it's just a wee runny nose?"  Cora was careful not to overstep her boundaries, but she wanted to let Niall know that if they were to call a doctor, their money would fall through.

"Think ye can live?" Niall asked Gregg, who nodded back. "It's settled then," Niall boomed while shoving Gregg off his lap and standing up. "Off to church." His words shocked his children and they moaned while dressing into their Sunday clothing.

They marched along the other church-goers with three frowning face and one stern one.  Their feet treaded over the withering stones and ducked their head against the bitter wind and rain.  They peeled off their outer garments; carrying them in their chapped arms. They kneeled before the entrance to St. Giles Cathedral.  They filed in the back of the cathedral and took a seat in the breaking pew among the rest of families of their social likeness.

They stood for the opening entrance and prayer for mercy by God. Men stood up at the altar and spoke from the Old and New Testaments.

Finlay slumped over in the pew and every few seconds either Cora or Gregg would poke him in his side to prevent him from falling asleep.  By the time the first prayer was half way over, their attention and interest had run out.  Their eyes wandered to the stain glass and statues of deities that were immaculately carved into the wall. They counted the number of bricks on one side and held contests to see who could find the most candles. 

Each prayer and song sung them back into sleeps depths. Cora wanted to run away screaming and never to return. Gregg ached for freedom and not sitting in the hard uncomfortable pew. But before either of them reached the point of going insane, the Priest took his rightful place at the altar.

                  The priest walked to the centre of the altar and stood there for a moment, crossing and uncrossing his fingers. Finally he opened his mouth to speak. "Death is among us every day and we all know what it is like to lose someone. Maybe it was a parent, a brother, a sister or even your own child. Your own pumping blood to be cut off and all you can do is lament." He paused and scanned the audience for reactions. ns

Before continuing, he scratched his check and cleared his throat.  "Some of you lock yourself away from the world during the painful grieving process and some of you slip down the icy stairs of despair.  Some of you would even forget that you are surrounded by others who grieve like you do.  We mourn in pain, suffering, and rage and then finally- this is the hardest part- moving forward. But never forgetting.  While they may no longer walk among us, their spirits are with us. They watch over us under Gods rule. "

He took a small respite. "As many of you have heard; the sickness has found its way into a city and attacked a poor child.  He did not have the chance to live and had not reached his prime. So in this time of sudden death, I urge you to share with others. Stay with family. Let God watch over their sinless soul. Be brave in this treacherous time as death gathers among us."