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

BOOK TWO: Chapter Five

After Mrs. Coltheart and Abigail had prayed to their hearts content and could think of nothing else to say, they walked home in the pouring rain with their hands and shawls raised above their heads in a poor attempt to be sheltered.  It was a heavy rain that covered Edinburgh in a thick canopy and spread it's being in between everything it touched. It dripped down between the gaps in the stones, slid over the roofs, getting caught in gutters and trampled upon the firm earth, loosening it to a fluffy state.

The two women returned to their home soaked to the bone. Abigail dumped the packet of meat on the table before quickly removing each article of clothing from Mrs. Coltheart's body.  Once Mrs. Coltheart was free of her soaked clothing, Abigail fetched a new wardrobe and bundled her mistress up warmly.

Mrs. Coltheart, with her spine shivering, sat down at the table and pulled her blanket closer to her shoulders. She grabbed a comb off her bed side table and started to drag it through her own hair. Abigail offered to do it, but was denied by Mrs. Coltheart who claimed she liked doing it. "Take a seat," Mrs. Coltheart whispered to Abigail once her long, brown hair was whipped back into a braid.

At first, Abigail stood in shock from actually being allowed some leisure time instead of being forced to work every moment. But eventually after a reassuring smile from Mrs. Coltheart, Abigail sat down.

Mrs. Coltheart reached over to Abigail and clasped Abigail's hand in her own. "Me loove," she cooed with the first smile to fall upon her lips that day. "Thank yee, fur everythin'."

Abigail shook her head as her face blushed slightly. "Twas nuthin'," she said with a soft smile.

Mrs. Coltheart squeezed Abigail's hand harder and a determined look appeared on her face. She waited until Abigail looked at her before continuing, "Ah mean it," she stated. "If it were nut fur yee, last night culd hav bein moch worse," she said with sincerity.

For a moment they looked at each other dead in the eye. They eyes were filled with affection, passion, gratefulness and even companionship. After what the two of them had been through together, all they could do is hope that God heard their prayers and would rescue them tonight.

The moment passed when Mrs. Coltheart let go of Abigail's hand and hobbled over to the bed side table where she picked up her knitting, ignoring Abigail.

Lost in the moment, Abigail did not move for a second after Mrs. Coltheart ended the feeling of friendship. Rising up from her chair and fetching the items from the kitchen, Abigail started to prepare the confined recipe of Haggis that was for dinner as she ignored Mrs. Coltheart.

There were no words exchanged between the two of them as they remained in their own little worlds. Abigail swiftly moved around the kitchen, cutting, chopping, simmering and boiling the meat and potatoes to perfection. Mrs. Coltheart tapped her foot against the floor as her fingers dashed to finish her garment.

They stayed like that until Mr. Coltheart barged in through the door from work. He swept his wife up in his arms and pecking her on the cheek, causing her to blush frivolously.  

Abigail set the food out on the table and the Colthearts started to eat as a single candle stood on the table.

 Late at night, when the moon stood bright and shimmered down upon the rooftops of Edinburgh, Mrs. Coltheart was awoken by a strangely warm feeling surrounding her body. She ignored it, thinking it was some odd incident of a warm bed or a strong sense in her dream. She paid no attention to it and fell back to sleep.

Some sleep time later, she felt it again. But this time it was an aching sensation that burned her skin into small beads of dripping sweat.  She lifted her fair head off the pillow and strained her ocean eyes to adjust to the black. "What was that?" Mrs. Coltheart fearfully whispered into the darkness. She rolled to her stomach for a better glance at what was out there.