Wraith After Midnight

t formed slowly in the cobblestone streets of Edinburgh. A dark mist that seeped out of the pores and cracks of the stones and bricks that met at this seemingly insignificant cross ways. It made no noise as it grew. Filling out into a shape that made no logical sense to anyone that would have observed it, should anyone have been out that late. It had waited until the final stroke of midnight had rung out across the darkened buildings before manifesting in the dim light from a streetlight around the corner. The warm glow glimmering along the wet stone and glass.

However, it never touched the mist. And as it formed and began to move it walked underneath the light and yet still remained vague. A hint of a person below what one would have assumed would have been a woman in a long dress. Yet, she had no face and as she continued along into the many back roads and alleys it was clear she knew her way, but as she stepped through a bricked up doorway her way had long since been changed.

She was only the first. The host or the one that marked the way. Another shadowed formed this time it was different smaller in statue. The flat cap on the boy’s head became clear first if nothing else was clear. The shape formed crouching in the corner of an alley. Hiding from the light and any window that would have looked out at him. and the moment his figure fully formed he dashed off sprinting at a speed that would not have been possible until he too disappeared through a place that led to nowhere a person could follow.

whispers could now be heard coming from everywhere a cacophony of voices that were too faint to understand. Curtains were drawn now and lights put out in homes where the living would be heading to bed. But here away from the vibrant nightlife that makes the city come alive there is an understanding. this time is not for the living but for something else.

A soldier marches to a tune that can only be faintly heard on the wind his black shape a silhouette against the glass and stone a he follows a path no one could understand on a patrol no longer needed. Yet he continues on falling into formation that has long since fallen out. coming to attention for no one but the rain and the wind. And then he too disappears onto a path that has long since been swallowed up beneath the modern.

they come faster now as if the veil has thinned so much a mere thought brings them through they form still silently in places that few notice but they have been noticed. faces of children look out onto the lanes as they watch the procession of shadows pass by unable to stop themselves from moving lace curtains. One child makes a noise and like a record skipping the nearest shadow pauses and jolts for several paces before its head turns towards the window.

The child quakes at the sight. It has no face but its eyes seem to see into him. He had been warned by his mother not to look outside, not tonight. The shadow deviates from the path and begins towards the building all the while keeping its eyes on the boy and as it gets close to the wall it stops and the little boy can not see it but then it is there.

There on the other side of the glass framed by the lace that should have covered the window. it presses closer as if to get a better look at the intruder. With a faint cry the mother springs forward and pulls the boy back into the darkness of the house and slams the curtains shut refusing to look at the figure or acknowledge what her son had done.

She knew come morning that the boy may feel sick but she knew it would pass. these creatures were not known to be dangerous. just curious but their curiosity came with a price and would be one her son would need to pay sadly.

On the outside of the window the being had stretched itself up becoming long its legs and arms and torso stretched high so that it could peer into the window but as the darkness once again closed around it it sank back into its body still facing the stone as if nothing had happened. it turned away from the building and began walking again. Its form was more solid and there on his sleeves cuff links glinted in the light, its price paid.

And then a door opened. and every shadow froze. The pub had been closing and a solo patron stumbled out into the night. He swayed off balance and clearly into his cups. But it was very clear as he walked away that he couldn’t see the shadows that in the late night he had no idea that he wasn’t alone and as he continued on and disappeared into an apartment that he would awaken tomorrow tired but have no idea that he had shared the night with the others that roamed the streets.

They continued on guided towards a place that no one could understand and then it could be heard low. A memory of a tune that rolled along the streets the whispering stopped as the music got louder and it became very clear. Bagpipes echoed in a call and response, calling to the shadows to come. And then they hit the Royal Mile. And the shadows congregated and looked towards the castle where it stood in the moonlight it’s ancient walls reaching high shimmering in the light.

The shadows turned and continued their walk while others rose to join them. They made no noise and no one dared look out onto the ground as the passed. The closer they got to the castle the louder the pipes were. The phantom pipes calling to them like the pied piper. the shadows seemed to be entranced. the sound became louder and there it was in the center of the castle yard. A lone shadow kilted with pipes held on his shoulder and to the others he called. standing still he never paused pulling the shadows towards him and from the view from the ramparts of the castle the city came into view below and from each alley way and darkened yard and park came the shadows,

Little shadows in the shape of children rushed out and twirled around in fits of play. groups of women in dresses swayed to a song that had long since stopped playing at balls and soirees that had long since ended. Swirling smoke came from the pipes clutched in the shadow teeth that no one could see. And at the very front stood men dressed in furs that moved like hunters.

And they all came, drawn to the pipes that sang its lament. And all at once the city seemed to fade and was replaced by the highlands that reached for the sky. The cliffs and glens and the waters that still held the names of the Scots that came before. The shadows were memories of those that lived and died on the land .The haunting of lives cut short in the turmoil that had bled into the land. And just like the tune that echoed across the moors there was a price to the memories and the shadows waited to collect and call the others home. And with the moon high in the sky they looked up and disappeared, as the clock struck three.