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

BOOK TWO: Chapter One

Fourth of January, 1683.

Edinburgh, Scotland.

"This is not a decision that we may prolong; we have to agree upon the answer by nightfall," a middle age man spoke to his peers. He sat at the head of the table and stared down at the rest of the men in the room.  There were too many people to live inside Edinburgh and they had been running in circles for hours, discussing what should be done.

"We could evict the poor," a young man cried; under the impression that his outburst was the golden answer to all the city's problems.  A smile controlled his inexperienced and dull compared to others face.

The middle aged man slouched back in his chair and stroked his silvery-brown hairline on his beard. He feigned to contemplate what was just proposed to him, but he had already made up his mind the moment he knew it. He straightened the wire glasses upon his crooked nose before he spoke, "No, that would not be wise. There are too many of them living here that a riot will be the result of such grotesque actions. "

He raised his eyebrows and looked around the room to the other seven gentlemen. He needed answers quick. But nobody dared look back into his scrutinizing gaze; they knew not what to say.

The eight men, of the council, carried the meeting out in a silent fashion for another half hour. Each of them scratching their hands or staring up at the ceiling like they were praying to God for the answer.  Every few minutes somebody would cough, clear their throats or sneeze which would call forward the need of a blessing.  But their stalling still held the idea that not one of them held the answer they were looking for and did not dear speak up, in fear of saying something unintelligent. 

Suddenly, after minutes of agonizing silence, an older man, who was sitting in a far corner, straightened up and he cleared his throat loudly, drawing everyone's attention towards him. Once he saw all eyes on him, he spoke in a harshly aged and quivering voice. "There is always Mary Kings… "His voice trailed off because there was no need to finish his though as everyone else already picked up on what he meant.

The middle aged man leaned forward in his chair and smiled while he nodded his head. "Perfect proposition," were his only words before he set off to make the plans.

***

Seventh of January, 1683.

Edinburgh, Scotland.

"Ay. Me, me wife and her maid," said Mr. Coltheart while he rubbed the back of his neck and adverted his gaze from the Official's penetrating eyes.  He clutched his tattered hat in his raw hands and stood up as tall as he could out of respect.

"Brilliant. The actions in order to carry this out will be taken in several days time. All that I ask you to do is stay available in the mean time. But just one more question, Mr. Coltheart," he waited for Mr. Coltheart to nod before continuing. "As we have not had residents there for nearly forty years, you will have a lowered price. Does eighty pounds a month sound fair?" He scanned the living records.

Mr. Coltheart thought for a moment and scratched the back of his straw coloured head.  After thinking his budgets through, he responded "Ay." 

The middle aged man nodded his head and scribbled down on the records. Suddenly he paused his actions and looked up towards Mr. Coltheart with a suspicious look in his eye. "Are you aware of the…erm…stories about it?" He folded his hands into each other and rested them upon the hard surface of the carved table.

"Ay." Mr. Coltheart nodded quickly and a smile crept across his face.

"And you hold no feelings of doubt?" The man questioned the reaction of Mr. Coltheart. Normally one did not smile while thinking about what was said to have happened. But one would normally be frightened away from ever going near the area thus avoiding it at all costs.

He slapped a hand over his mouth to suppress a laugh that instinctively crept up his throat. "Th' stories ur fur idiots," was his flippant response as he could no longer keep the laugh down so he chuckled in a superior fashion. For all that his middle class brain was worth; there were no such beings roaming among the earth's surface. One was either struggling to please on earth, basking in glory in Heaven or tortured in Hell.

"Fantastic then, I will start on the preparing," the Official said closing the book of records and rising from his seat. He raised an arm, directing Mr. Coltheart outside.