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

BOOK ONE: Chapter Seven

Morning was brought by several hard knocks to the door. It was announced in a pattern of three short knocks, pauses and then repeated. Niall, still under sleep, opened the door just as the third repetition ended and before it disturbed his sleeping angels.

The knocking came from a slender man who was dressed in fine robes and held a scroll in his hand. His garments covered every inch of skin between the curves of his chin to the tip of his shoe.  Around his neck, he had a cross dangling from a beaded necklace.

"What?" Niall asked, less than pleased to be woken up this early. 

The man snapped open the scroll and started to read from it. "December the eleventh, 1644 in the year of our Lord, by orders of the City Council, the residents of Mary Kings Close are hereby not permitted to leave the confinements of the Close."  He rolled the scroll up and started to walk away to the next door, but was stopped by Niall grabbing his shoulder.

"Why?" Niall demanded, taking a step outside of his door.

"Do not breathe on me, you sick bastard!" The man said, turning his nose up in the air. "All you bloody residents of this cursed close, are terminally ill and if this sickness is not stopped now then all of us, more important people will be infected too." He clamped his mouth shut, turned on his heel and stormed to the next door.

In shock, Niall slumped back to his home past the stairs. He took a seat at the table and rested his head on his hand while thinking. He watched his children sleep side by side in a loving fashion. He wished he was back where nothing more than a full nose was cast down upon the people. A cleaner place for his children to grow up; his home.

Suddenly, a shriek from the close below interrupted his thoughts. He darted down to the close to see what was happening. When he arrived there he was greeted by a mob of angry people all shouting towards the front of the close. He looped his way in between the people until he reached the front.

Guards of the King stood in a straight line, pushing against the people of Mary Kings and restraining them from leaving. In their hands were clubs and on their faces was a look of determination. They eyed any citizen who cried out and tossed threatening looks of murder.  At the end of the day, they would be free and the sickness would be dead.

Massive iron gates now stood in front of the close next to the Royal Mile and were being bolted on a hinge to the front homes walls. They formed a solid sheet of blackness and were so heavy they required ten men to swing them to a close.

"Niall!" A man called out from the other side of the close.

Niall turned his head and meet his gaze with another. "Wut happenin', Bly?" Niall screamed over the crowd to his friend. He pushed his way around people until he stood side by side to the dark headed Bly.

Bly shook his head." Were one of yours sick?" He asked crossing his arms and observing the riot. "Me daughter, Elva, came down yesterday and haven't been the same since." He stole a glance down the close at a third floor window.

"Like Gregg." Niall softly stated just as people started to scream louder.

Their shouts consisted of angry threats, demands to be set free, cries of injustice against the living and pleas to save the sick. But nothing was going to help. The guards kept repeating; "Rules are rules. Now silence yourself." Their words were cold and emotionless. They managed to stay in the perfect line until they were given a sign to back up.

Slowly, the guards slid back into the Royal Mile and people pushed up against the empty space in an attempt to escape. But when they saw the iron gates leisurely coming in on them, they backed up faster than they came.

The gates slammed shut with a loud bang that was quickly overturned by louder shouts from people around Niall and Bly. "Got nae right, they dae." Niall muttered as he took in the idea that he was trapped.

The crowd started to thin out as people returned to their homes in defeat. They were officially encased in their close and knew that they would only be free when the sickness did what it needed to do.

"Never dae." Bly stabbed the air with two front fingers up and his palm facing down to him. "Them shite." Bly screamed before joining the others in going back home.

Niall followed his friends lead and trudged to the last living section of the close. He pushed the door open with a strong shove and climbed the steps with anxiety of what to expect in his children. He paused outside the room and leaned his head against the falling wall. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and figure out how to tell them.

But that was for nothing. When he walked into the room, he found his children sitting upright in the bed, holding hands. Gregg appeared to be sicker than before. He was stretched out along the head and grasped the bucked in his arms for safe keeping. His hand was spread across the bed to Finlay. Finlay was slumped over against the wall, eyeing the bed as if it was the most interesting texture to cross his eyesight.  Cora was on the edge with her legs strewn all over the wood. Tear marks ran down her dirty face.

They already heard what was to come in their life.

Nail's eyes softened with grief when he took in the sore sight of them. When Cora noticed his presence, she sat up straighter. "Ah feel crap too." Cora whined as she grasped for her father's hug.

Gregg looked and nodded his head slightly, but was too weak to move.

"Me too." Finlay stated from the wall.  He was too ill to move or even take notice of Nail's presence other than with his words.  

"Nae, it hasn't been too hard on me. I don't miss ye at much." Gregg chirped to Niall who was now on the bed.

"What? Ah here." Niall whispered.

"Ah was a yong laddie when ye died. It's hard on Da. He misses ye a lot an' cries tay fooking much." Gregg said with a smile on his face. Colour had re-entered his face and he appeared almost happy. He was immune to the suffering that already passed through his body.

"Wut ye say?" Cora demanded trying to make sense of Greggs gargles.

But Gregg was oblivious to the interest of Cora and Niall in his words. "Cora cooks fur crap. Nay like ye. An' Finlay us as lazy as arse."  He stared off into the corner of the room. His eyes were focused on nothing except for something that wasn't there.  Niall waved his hands in front of Gregg, but he did not respond and continued to gaze blankly.

"Ah loove ya." Gregg whispered with the appearance of a small child. Suddenly, the childlike wonder of him was replaced with a raging, sobbing demon. "Donae go! Ah need ye! We need ye! Ah loove ye! Tay much….no gonae go! Mam!" He moved onto raised knees and leaned forward as far as he could. His hands clawed the air and searched for an invisible object.

But he stopped as soon as he started.  He feel to the bed in a breathe of wheezing emotions. Tears trailed down his cheeks and dripped to his chin.

From the corner of the bed, Finlay stirred and looked at Gregg. He moved slowly and wrapped his arms around Gregg with a tight squeeze. "It's alright. Ah here. Av'e got ye." He cooed to Gregg to slow his tears.