Scottish terms
Bairn – child
Banshee/Ban Sìth (Scots Gaelic)/Bean Sidhe (Irish Gaelic) – A figure native to Irish mythology, imported into Scottish folklore via the western coast of Scotland (as with many other creatures, monsters, and ghouls) that is one of many harbingers of doom and death, mostly death. It takes the form of a weeping/wailing (or keening) woman who can be heard when there is going to be an imminent death in the Clann/family. Interestingly the word actually translates into woman (Ban/Bean) of the fairy mound (Sìth/Sidhe – more broadly this is used to refer to faeries). Used these days to refer to any kind of loud screaming or crying; i.e. she was wailing like a banshee.
Lad – man or boy, although young boys are usually referred to as wee lads. Male adults just as lads.
Greetin'(g) – Crying, weeping.
Ma’ – Mum/mother.
Cheeky drink/biscuit/etc. – A british term, not necessarily Scottish, that just means consuming or doing something you’re not really supposed to be, or something that’s not necessarily good for you.
Pished – drunk
Dobber – idiot or stupid person. An insult.
Roaster – yet another word for idiot.
(Car) Bonnet – British term for the front of a car. Confusingly, also a fancy word for a hat.
Nook and crannie – everywhere, every corner, every space.
Fideal (pronounched fee-tch-al) – one of many “evil” water spirits in Scottish Folklore that drags mainly women and children into bodies of water, killing them. In Scottish myth this particular one is native to Loch na Fideil near Gairloch. I perhaps unfairly hijacked the word and created an entirely different creature that posessed children instead of dragging them into the nearest Loch, so apologies to Scottish mythology for that.
Lewis chess pieces – are exactly what they sound like. Gaming pieces found on the Isle of Lewis that are currently dated to the 12th or 13th century.
Script
It’s been quiet, and I’m not talking about customers this time. There’s actually been silence, and do you know why? Because the two roasters aren’t about. Fionn’s disappeared and I don’t know where. He’s able to come and go as he pleases. As for Reid, he’s gone to visit family for a few days, or so he told me. And it’s…well, it’s not been as nice as I’d liked. It’s like nostalgia glasses. I thought that because the silence had disappeared, replaced by bickering and barbs, that meant I missed it. Whenever the two roasters would start I’d reminisce about my first few months in the shop with just Chronos, the blissful peace that blanketed all of the weird and horrific things that surrounded me. But now I have it, I’m not sure I really like it. The silence isn’t peaceful, it’s a bit overbearing if I’m honest. I blame my lack of ignorance. Back when it was just me I didn’t know what half of the stuff was capable of, but now I do, I don’t really like being alone with it. Fionn leaving was one thing, but when Reid announced he wanted to visit his family at the same time, I was actually reluctant to see him go. Fancy that.
In their absence I’ve taken to a small corner of the shop, tucked away out of sight behind desks and card tables. I don’t need to be able to see the door because I hear the bell ring. It’s a lot cosier, and the silence isn’t so intimidating there. I’ll find a book, or an old photo album, or another one of those cigarette card collections, and pass a nice wee few hours looking through them. Chronos has taken to joining me. He’ll curl up on top of a small set of wooden drawers. His wide eyes will narrow until they start to close completely, dozing off in the silence. We hardly say anything to each other, and it’s not because we don’t have anything to say. I think we both know our days spent in the cosy corner will be numbered soon enough, and so we enjoy the silence whilst we can.
As for the Madam, I can’t really say. She stays upstairs as always. What she finds to do all day, everyday, is a mystery to me. I’d be bored out my face.
It was quiet at first, a distant noise that penetrated the invisible sound barrier that surrounded the shop. The piercing echo of a bairn’s cries. I’ve noticed over the months of working in the shop that you rarely hear anything from outside. There’s no beeping of horns, no road or car noise, no loud mobile phone conversations of people walking by. That’s why when I heard the undeniable sound of a bairn screeching I stopped reading my book, and turned my eyes to where the door is, peeking through the gaps in the mountains of crap.
Chronos hadn’t noticed yet as his eyes were firmly shut, his smooth black fur moving up and down in a slow, sleepy rhythm. I wanted to ignore it, but the fact I could hear it made me take notice. I sat still, squinting to see the door, trying to deny the sound was getting louder. When Chronos opened his eyes and began to stir I swore under my breath. The bell went, and I barely heard it over that bairn’s banshee-like screeching.
I don’t understand why they do it. All the fucking time. They cry for no reason! I usually find that it makes me grind my teeth together, but it was a shock to the system to go from perfect silence to that torturous noise. I had no choice but to put the book down and make my way over to the door, with Chronos following close behind. As I approached, I saw a petite woman with the signs of a parent run ragged. Her ginger hair was a mess, and the dark circles under her eyes were made darker by her pale skin. Holding her hand was the thing making all the noise. A wee lad, no bigger than 3 or 4, with watery blue eyes and wispy blonde hair, was greeting and wouldn’t stop. When what I assumed to be his Ma’ saw Chronos her eyes widened in terror and she began to shake her head. She informed me, by practically shouting over her lad’s cries, that she was allergic to cats. I felt like telling her Chronos wasn’t technically a cat, but decided against it because I still don’t know exactly what he is.
He slinked off, and I wished with all my might I could join him. But it turns out I don’t always get the things I wish for. I watched as the woman dug into her handbag, rifled through it and procured the Madam’s card. I swear the crying seemed to get louder, and he was scanning round the place as if eying something to get his filthy wee hands on. I felt my face contort under the irritation and ma bleeding ears. The bairn noticed my loathing and the crying got louder. If I was lucky, maybe it’d get so high pitched that only dogs could hear it.
With gritted teeth I motioned to the door leading up to Madam Norna. There’d be nothing supernatural this time about her knowing a customer was here. She would’ve been stone deaf if she hadn’t heard the brat by now. On our way to the door I noticed Chronos keeping his distance, a somewhat peculiar look on his feline features, but his gaze was glued to the screaming bairn. I would’ve said the glimpse of curiosity was because he was wondering how a bairn could cry so much for no reason. But the inquisitiveness, the way Chronos was keeping an eye on the brat as though it were an errant mouse scurrying along a skirting board, made me think it was something more.
Madam Norna showed then into the front parlour, and I’ve never been more desperate to retreat to the kitchen to make the tea. I was tempted just to deliver it and disappear to the silence downstairs. But let’s face it, I wanted to know why the woman and the screamer had come to the shop. By the time I went in the crying had lowered a few decibels to a constant hum. My boss had to raise her voice for the first time since I’ve known her just to be heard over it.
I didn’t bring anything for the brat, not even a cheeky biscuit. Whilst I was pouring the tea for the adults the woman, the haggard mother of Satan’s minion, confessed that she hadn’t been sleeping well. I’m surprised I’ve not had a casualty with that teapot, I keep banging it against the table or the teacups. Was she for real? No sleeping? I’d never have guessed.
By this point the bairn’s crying had faded into background noise. Either that or I’d gone temporarily deaf from my eardrums bursting. When Madam Norna asked why the woman hadn’t been sleeping, well, I was glad I’d finished pouring the tea. It did raise the question, and not for the first time, of why the woman was here and not at a doctors, or phoning pest control.
The woman confessed that she was having trouble getting to sleep, and when she did she’d have nightmares. In a smaller voice she admitted that these night terrors were so horrific that she had trouble getting back to sleep after them. You don’t say. I would’ve placed good money on the origin of this sleeplessness being her brat. Speaking of which, when I passed the cup over to its mother, it shouted at me. Wee fucker. I couldn’t tell what it was saying. Bairns that age are only understood by their parents and others their age. To me, it was barely gibberish. What I could understand was the menacing look in its eye. I would’ve glared back if I thought I wouldn’t be caught. Bairns get away with everything.
The Madam interrupted our staring match by instructing me to go to the cabinet and fetch the third vial from the left, on the top shelf. As usual there were new things in there, and this vial, a small glass bottle with a cork in the top, was just where she’d said it’d be. There was liquid inside this wee bottle of a deep violet. I would’ve said it was some kind of chemical if I didn’t know any better. After I’d put it on the table Madam Norna instructed the woman to put two drops of the violet liquid into a glass of water before she went to bed, leaving the glass somewhere in her bedroom. And just like that she’d apparently get some undisturbed sleep. She was to return in a week to confirm if it’d worked or not, and then payment would be discussed. I think this is the first time in a while Madam Norna hasn’t demanded payment upfront. So, what was different here?
The woman took the bottle, and her snuffling bairn, and left the shop. The day went by as it usually does. I’ve never been one for not getting to sleep, but that night I wish I hadn’t. I’d call them bad dreams if they hadn’t been so terrifying. Being chased by something I couldn’t see but knew wished me harm, people being torn to pieces, literally. I thought I woke up once, this blaring light shining in my eyes. I looked around and saw people in masks, scalpels, saws, and hooks laid out on display. I tried to move but couldn’t. It was like I couldn’t feel my body, couldn’t even twitch a finger. I knew it was a dream, but just like my body was paralysed, I was unable to wake up. Even when one of the people in masks went to get the scalpel I could only watch as it came closer. And then, thank fuck, my alarm hoisted me from my nightmare.
I’m not one for dreaming. I couldn’t tell you the last time I even had one, or what it was about. So for me to have a bloody nightmare was unsettling to say the least. I put it down to chance, everyone has nightmares sometimes. But when it happened again for the next two nights, by the third I was afraid to even go to sleep and ended up staying awake all night. The next morning it was like I was suffering fae the worst hangover of my life, and I’d not even had the fun of getting pished in the first place. I had to drag myself out to uni, my head feeling like it was filled with cement. My senses were dulled, but every wee noise set my teeth on edge. The brakes of an old car, the beep of the traffic lights, the rumbling of the train as it sped on to the next station.
I had work that day, but I don’t remember how I got there. One minute I was on campus, and the next I was standing opposite the shop waiting to cross the road. I shook my head and rubbed my eyes furiously, as if that’d wake me up. I stepped off the curb, and a small voice in the back of my head knew it was too late when I registered the frantic beep of a car horn. I remember reading that humans can survive up to 11 days without sleep, yet I wasn’t going to survive one. I remember closing my eyes, bracing myself for the impact of some dobber’s bonnet when instead I felt something grab my arm so tightly I though my bones would get crushed, and yanking me backwards. It was like I’d gone deaf for a minute, or my mind hadn’t finished playing through my greatest hits.
The next thing I know Reid’s growling at me, asking what the hell’s wrong, and if I was blind. His face was blurring dangerously, merging with the thousands of other faces I’d seen or dreamt about. The noises of the street were distant, a background echo. I heard my name, angry and impatient, then I heard it again, softer, concern edging its way in. Then the ground came up, or the sky fell down I can’t be sure. I felt someone’s arms again, grabbing my shoulders and trying to ease me down and avoid me landing sorely on my arse. Reid’s grumbles came to the forefront, and I heard him ask what I’d touched in the shop.
I adamantly told him nothing, I’m careful, usually careful. But you never know, there’s so much nightmare stuff in every nook and crannie I couldn’t really be sure. My mind, lethargic as it was, began to try and play back the last time I was in the shop. The card game I’d lost with Chronos, tidying up some magazines, moving round some jewellery, hiding in the back of the shop reading. There’d been a customer, a special one. A woman, and she’d brought something with her. Not a something, a someone. A bairn, a demon bairn who wouldn’t stop crying. The woman hadn’t been getting sleep, had been having nightmares, that’s why she’d come. And now I was the same!
I held out my arms and told Reid to help me up, and like a wee old grannie crossing the road, we walked across it together. By the time we got into the shop the Madam and Chronos were already waiting. The wee shite’s greeting was an observation that I looked awful. I could imagine, but still, being insulted by a four-legged wee fucker was a low point of the entire experience. I ignored him and asked the Madam what the hell the wee brat from a few days before was.
She informed us that the brat was unbelievably a regular human, but the creature he was possessed by wasn’t. According to her I’d annoyed it when it’d visited, and now it was haunting me the same way as the bairn’s mother. The creature, which she called a Fideal (pronounced “fee-tch-al” and will be spelled feechal for ease of reading) or water spirit, would possess bairns in order to feed off the mother’s energy whilst she was sleeping. Anyone that got in the way of their survival, or anyone who annoyed them, would never get a good night’s sleep. Lack of sleep, or in my case lack of attention to the road, would eventually kill the poor sod, and the Feechal would be free to drain the mother of its energy. This was all said in such a clinical tone it was hard to believe the Madam even cared if I’d died, which I nearly had if it wasn’t for Reid. I’ve thought about getting bumped off by a lot of things since starting in the shop, but a possessed bairn wasn’t on my list.
Madam Norna said she’d told the mother to come back in a week because that was how long it’d take to get the things she needed for the exorcism. I was right then, the bairn was a demon of sorts. Fionn had already been sent to get what she needed and in few days I’d be able to sleep. Obviously, that left a day or two of night terrors. Fantastic. I’ve thought about how unfair it was that I attracted the Feechal’s wrath. I didn’t remember doing anything bad enough to warrant it killing me. It was Madam Norna who helped its mother…well, victim. Why didn’t she look as awful as I did? And am I not supposed to have some kind of immunity to these things? Then again, the Madam did say it wouldn’t work all of the time.
My boss gave me the same thing she gave its mother, and I managed to get a restless sleep for the next two nights until the day of the exorcism. I suppose calling it an exorcism is the wrong thing. It may be demon-esque, but it wasn’t actually a demon but a water spirit from folklore, and Madam Norna isn’t an exorcist. My boss actually referred to it as an expulsion, which was more accurate, believe me.
Fionn arrived in the morning and gave something to the Madam. The rest of the day was spent waiting in anxious anticipation of when the bell would go and the latest customer would enter. Throughout the morning I kept thinking I heard the crying, just like the first time the week before. It’d get closer, and closer, and then someone would talk, or the roasters would bicker, and it’d be gone. My nerves were so frayed that when Fionn said something jokingly to me I snapped at him. Time dragged and me being on edge put everyone else in the same mood, so by the time the bell did resound round the shop you could’ve cut the atmosphere with a butter knife.
I took both the mother and her possessed bairn straight up to see the Madam. Rather than me making tea, a pot was already on the table. I noticed the Madam unusually not touching hers, and when I went to get mine I barely noticed the slight shake of her head. All was explained when the mother, after putting her empty cup back on its saucer, proceeded to fall over, completely out of it. What the hell was in the tea, horse tranquiliser?
The bairn, who’d been whinging at a lower decibel than when he’d first appeared, went eerily silent as he watched his meal ticket slump over, unconscious. I stared at the bairn, waiting for his neck to twist all the way round, waiting for fangs to show, or for a tail to appear. My hands became slick, and I stopped noticing the pins and needles in my foot.
To look at he was normal, but as I’ve learned by now, this is a world where wolves do dress in sheep’s clothing. Rather than fangs, or horns, or guttural voices, the watery eyes dried up, the bairn took a neatly folded hankie fae his trouser pocket and wiped away the stream of snot, before fucking folding it just as neatly and putting it back. No matter how serious he now looked, the fact that his feet didn’t touch the ground and his legs were just dangling off the end of the sofa made the entire thing have a hint of the comical.
When it started speaking though, Christ, I thought I was having auditory hallucinations again. The voice wasn’t guttural, or raw, or raspy, but very clear and deep, like an adult. It was like watching a film where they dub a voice over the actor’s own, and it was horrible. It asked the Madam, in all politeness, if she wouldn’t just let it go, look the other way for once. It wasn’t doing that much harm, it wouldn’t kill the mother, it was too evolved for that. Silence from Madam Norna. It continued that it’d release me from its wrath, and wouldn’t go after anyone else, it promised. I found myself believing its words. Wishful thinking, or the general tone of sincerity, but I really thought that if we just let it go about its business that it’d keep to its word. Silence again. It added, more desperately this time, that it’d only feed once a week, and try to keep the nightmares to a minimum.
Even I knew Madam Norna’s answer. No. Not that she said it aloud. Instead, she pulled something from a pocket in her skirt and placed it on the coffee table in front of me. It was a figure of sorts, carved out of the purest silver birch I’d ever seen. From some angles it looked human, a bit like the Lewis chess pieces they found carved from ivory on the Isle of Lewis. Yet when looked at from another angle, it was humanoid, as if covered by a sheet, the faint outlines of something that was certainly not human; it was too long, too fluid. The most striking feature was that it had no face. At the top, where it was rounded to resemble a head, was the only place where there weren’t grooves, or markings. It was completely blank and flat. Like an empty canvas.
Whatever the figurine was, the reaction it got from the water spirit was something else. Anything human vanished in an instant as it launched itself from the sofa directly at my boss. It got as far as the coffee table where I was before stopping and crumpling to its knees. The skin of the bairn, before pale and clear, now had the distinct shadow of scales, and an unnatural shimmer that wasn’t from sweat or tears. Where there’d been wee fingers and nails, were now skeletal hands with gleaming talons. I didn’t waste anymore time eyeballing from such a close distance and scrambled my way across the floor to cower at my boss’s feet. Nothing ever touched her, so she was a safe bet.
I stared at this monster, this creature stuck in a bairn’s body. A part of it so human and innocent, yet slithers of the unnatural peering through. Its eyes were no longer round, but sharp, and the colour of mercury, the iris’s pin pricks in the middle. At first, I thought the coffee table had stopped him, perhaps some kind of amulet I didn’t know about had been stuck on the underside, or the figurine was actually some kind of barrier. I observed the steam rising from the bairn with a strange curiosity. Looking closer I saw delicate silver chains coated in frost. Where they touched the bairn’s skin they burned with white hot intensity, creating the ribbon’s of steam. I began to feel the ice in the air, edging down my throat. They looked so cold that getting frostbite fae touching them was the least of my worries.
The Feechal struggled against these chains, that were so thin and delicate they wouldn’t look out of place as jewellery. Despite its struggling, and slow growls, they didn’t move, and didn’t gee way. They bit harder into its shiny skin.
“Out.”
Was all Madam Norna said in her soft, velvety voice. It croaked a refusal. She repeated the command, stronger this time. Another chain appeared around its upper arm. Every time she commanded it out of the bairn another chain appeared, searing into its skin, curling its body in on itself. More chains produced more steam, and all of it was being drawn into the small figurine standing on the coffee table. Out. Out. Out. The words were repeated over and over again, swirling around the room like a whisper. Eventually there was a chink of release as the chains wrapped around the bairn broke into icy white particles before shooting straight at the figurine.
The bairn slumped on the ground, groggy and dazed, whilst I realised I was holding someone’s hand. When I looked, I found it was the Madam’s. I kept my eyes on the bairn’s lethargic body, waiting for its head to peek up. The shine on his skin was gone, the outline of scales just a memory. When his eyes eventually did begin to look around, I could see them well up. At least this time the tears were real.
He began to wail, screech like a bloody banshee, and this woke his Ma’ up. Despite her own confusion she comforted her bairn, the real one, not the thing trying to kill her. After some rambling, and apologies, the Madam took some money as payment, and they both left. I guessed that the money was symbolic rather than necessary. The figurine remained on the table, and when I had a nosy at it again, I saw there was now a face, or the vague shape of one, carved into the wood. Its eyes were narrow and sharp, the groove that was supposed to be its mouth twisted in a silent scream.
I, unusually, found myself with no words. I had a feeling of release, like I’d been the one wrapped in chains. Suddenly the tiredness frightened away by the adrenaline returned with a vengeance. Every limb felt weak, shaky, like I hadn’t eaten anything in as many days as I hadn’t slept. Distantly I heard the Madam’s voice, explaining that the wooden figurine was an effigy, an object used to trap spirits. The silver birch was specific to water spirits, like the Feechal possessing the bairn. I felt myself nodding as I gathered the teapot and cups, putting them on a tray, wondering if I’d be able to stand up.
I managed, just, but my limbs felt like the bone had been pulled out. My arms felt light and airy, but my head felt leaden. I could feel my legs shaking as I took one step, and another, and almost managed a third before I stumbled. Reid, appearing from the door, although I hadn’t heard the stairs, caught my arms again. I claimed my leg had gone to sleep. I knew that wasn’t the reason.
Madam Norna told Reid to take me to one of the spare rooms where I could sleep. Aye, there’re spare rooms I didn’t know about. It was like as soon as she said they were there they just appeared. It was down a wee corridor, past other doors I’d never seen before, all painted either white or forest green. From what I can remember at least. One had an open door, and inside was a room similar to what you’d find in a B&B. A single bed rested against one wall, a painting of a random sea view hanging above it. There was a desk with nothing on it, and the windows were covered over with pristine white lace curtains, preventing me from seeing out. Or perhaps there was nothing to see.
I collapsed onto the bed like I’d just come back fae the longest night out. Reid, who’d helped me down the corridor, turned to leave me be. I asked where he was going, and I can hear the tone in my voice, even now. The fear of a bairn afraid of the dark. He answered.
“Nowhere.”
Script – Scots (ish. More like Scots lite. My international listeners wouldn’t have understood a word I’d said if I’d fully committed to Scots).
It’s been quiet, and I’m no talkin’ aboot customers this time. There’s actually been silence, and do you know why? Because the two roasters arenae aboot. Fionn’s disappeared and I dinnae know where. He’s able tae come and go as he pleases. As fae Reid, he’s gone tae visit family fae a few days, or so he told me. And it’s….well, it’s no been as nice as I’d liked. It’s like nostalgia glasses. I thought that because the silence had disappeared, replaced by bickering and barbs, that meant I missed it. Whenever the two roasters would start I’d reminisce aboot my first few months in the shop wi’ just Chronos, the blissful peace that blanketed all ae the weird and horrific ‘hings that surrounded me. But noo I have it, I’m no sure I really like it. the silence isnae peaceful, it’s a bit overbearin if I’m honest. I blame ma lack ae ignorance. Back when it was just me I didnae know whit half ae the stuff was capable of, but noo I do, I dinnae really like bein’ alone wi it. Fionn leavin’ was one ‘hing, but when Reid announced he wanted tae visit his family at the same time, I was actually reluctant tae see him go. Fancy that.
In their absence I’ve taken tae a small corner ae the shop, tucked away oot ae sight behind desks and card tables. I dinnae need tae be able tae see the door ‘cause I hear the bell ring. It’s a lot cosier, and the silence isnae so intimidatin’ there. I’ll find a book, or an old photo album, or another one ae those cigarette card collections, and pass a nice wee few hours lookin’ through them. Chronos has taken tae joinin’ me. He’ll curl up on top ae a small set ae wooden drawers. His wide eyes’ll narrow until they start tae close completely, dozin’ aff in the silence. We hardly say anythin’ tae each other, and it’s no because we dinnae have anythin’ tae say. I ‘hink we both know our days spent in the cosy corner will be numbered soon enough, and so we’ll enjoy the silence whilst we can.
As fae the Madam, I cannae really say. She stays upstairs as always. Whit she finds tae do all day everyday is a mystery tae me. I’d be bored oot ma face.
It was quiet at first, a distant noise that penetrateed the invisible sound barrier that surroundeed the shop. The piercin’ echo ae a bairn’s cries. I’ve noticed over the months ae workin’ in the shop that ye rarely hear anythin’ frae ootside. There’s no beepin’ ae horns, no road or car noise, no loud mobile phone conversations ae people walkin’ by. That’s why when I heard the undeniable sound ae a bairn screechin’ I stopped readin’ ma book, and turned ma eyes tae where the door is, peekin’ through the gaps in the mountains ae crap.
Chronos hadnae noticed yet as his eyes were firmly shut, his smooth black fur movin’ up and doon in a slow, sleepy rhythm. I wanteed tae ignore it, but the fact I could hear it made me take notice. I sat still, squintin’ tae see the door, tryin’ tae deny the sound was gettin’ louder. When Chronos opened his eyes and began tae stir I swore under ma breath. The bell went, and I barely heard it over that bairn’s Ban Sìth like screachin’.
I dinnae understand why they dae it, all the fuckin’ time. They cry fae no reason. I usually find that it makes me grind ma teeth together, but it was a shock tae the system tae go fae perfect silence tae that torturous noise. I had no choice but tae put the book doon and make ma way over tae the door, wi’ Chronos followin’ close behind. As I approached I saw a petite woman wi’ the signs ae a parent run ragged. Her ginger hair was a mess, and the dark circles under her eyes were made darker by her pale skin. Holdin’ her hand was the thing makin’ all the noise. A wee lad, no bigger than 3 or 4, wi’ watery blue eyes and wispy blonde hair, was greetin’ and wouldnae stop. When whit I assumed tae be his Ma’ saw Chronos her eyes widened in terror and she began tae shake her heid. She informed me, by practically shoutin’ over her lad’s cries, that she was allergic tae cats. I felt like tellin’ her Chronos wasnae technically a cat, but decided against it because I still dinnae know exactly what he is.
He slinked aff, and I wished wi’ all ma might I could join him. But it turns oot I dinnae always get the ‘hings I wish fae. I watched as the woman dug intae her handbag, rifled through it and procured the Madam’s card. I swear the cryin’ seemed tae get louder, and he was scannin’ roond the place as if eyin’ somethin’ tae get his filthy wee hands on. I felt ma face contort under the irritation and ma bleedin’ ears. The bairn noticed ma loathin’ and the cryin’ got louder. If I was lucky, maybe it’d get so high pitched that only dogs could hear it.
Wi’ gritted teeth I motioned tae the door leadin’ up tae Madam Norna. There’d be nothin’ supernatural this time aboot her knowin a customer was here. She wouldae been stone deaf if she hadnae heard the brat by noo. On our way tae the door I noticed Chronos keepin’ his distance, a somewhat peculiar look on his feline features, but his gaze was glued tae the screamin bairn. I wouldae said the glimpse ae curiosity was because he was wonderin how a bairn could cry so much for no reason. But the inquisitiveness, the way Chronos was keepin an eye on the brat as though it were an errant mouse scurrying along a skirting board, made me ‘hink it was somethin’ more.
Madam Norna showed then intae the front parlour, and I’ve never been more desperate tae retreat tae the kitchen tae make the tea. I was tempted just tae deliver it and disappear tae the silence doon stairs. But let’s face it, I wanted tae know why the woman and the screamer had come tae the shop. By the time I went in the crying had lowered a few decibels tae a constant hum. Ma boss had tae raise her voice fae the first time since I’ve known her just tae be heard over it.
I didnae bring anythin’ fae the brat, no even a cheeky biscuit. Whilst I was pourin’ the tea fae the adults the woman, the haggard mother of satan’s minion, confessed that she hadnae been sleepin’ well. I’m surprised I’ve no had a casualty wi’ that teapot, I keep bangin’ it against the table, or the teacups. Was she fae real? No sleepin? I’d never ha’ guessed.
By this point the bairn’s crying had fadeed intae background noise. Either that or I’d gone temporarily deaf fae ma eardrums burstin’. When Madam Norna asked why the woman hadnae been sleepin’ well, I was glad I’d finished pourin’ the tea. It did raise the question, and no fae the first time, ae why the woman was here and no at a doctors, or phonin’ pest control.
The woman confessed that she was havin’ trouble gettin’ tae sleep, and when she did she’d have nightmares. In a smaller voice she admitted that these night terrors were so horrific that she had trouble getting’ back tae sleep after them. You dinnae say. I wouldae placed good money on the origin fae this sleeplessness bein her brat. Speakin’ ae which, when I passed the cup ae tea over tae its mother, it shouted at me. Wee fucker. I couldnae tell whit it was sayin. Bairns ae that age are only understood by their parents and others their age. Tae me, it was barely gibberish. What I could understand was the menacin’ look in its eye. I wouldae glared back if I thought I wouldnae be caught. Bairns get away wi’ everythin’.
The Madam interupteed our starin’ match by instructin’ me tae go tae the cabinet and fetch the third vial fae the left, on the top shelf. As usual there were new ‘hings in there, and this vial, a small glass bottle wi’ a cork in the top, was just where she’d said it’d be. There was liquid inside this wee bottle, ae a deep violet. I wouldae said it was some kind ae chemical if I didnae know any better. After I’d put it on the table Madam Norna instructed the woman tae put two drops ae the violet liquid intae a glass ae water before she went tae bed, leavin’ the glass somewhere in her bedroom. And just like that she’d apparently get some undisturbed sleep. She was tae return in a week tae confirm if it’d worked or no, and then payment would be discussed. I think this is the first time in a while Madam Norna hasnae demandeed payment upfront. So, whit was different here?
The woman took the bottle, and her snufflin’ bairn, and left the shop. The day went by as it usually does. I’ve never been one for no gettin’ tae sleep, but that night I wish I hadnae. I’d call them bad dreams if they hadnae been so terrifyin’. Bein chased by somethin’ I couldnae see but knew wished me harm, people bein torn tae pieces, literally, I thought I woke up once, this blarin’ light shinin’ in ma eyes. I looked aroond and saw people in masks, scalpels, saws, and hooks laid oot on display. I tried tae move but couldnae. It was like I couldnae feel ma body, couldnae even twitch a finger. I knew it was a dream, but just like ma body was paralysed, I was unable tae wake up. Even when one ae the people in masks went tae get the scalpel I could only watch as it came closer. And then, thank fuck, ma alarm hoisted me fae ma nightmare.
I’m no one fae dreamin’. I couldnae tell ye the last time I even had one, or whit it was aboot. So fae me tae have a bloody nightmare was unsettling tae say the least. I put it doon tae chance, everyone has nightmares sometimes. But when it happened again fae the next two nights, by the third I was afraid tae even go tae sleep, and ended up stayin’ awake all night. The next mornin’ it was like I was sufferin fae the worst hangover ae ma life, and I’d no even had the fun ae getting’ pished in the first place. I had tae drag maself oot tae uni, ma heid feelin like it was filled wi’ cement. Ma senses were dulled, but every wee noise set ma teeth on edge. The brakes ae an old car, the beep ae the traffic lights, the rumblin’ ae the train as it sped on tae the next station.
I had work that day, but I dinnae remember how I got there. One minute I was on campus, and the next I was standin’ opposite the shop waitin’ tae cross the road. I shook ma heid and rubbed ma eyes furiously, as if that’d wake me up. I stepped fae the curb, and a small voice in the back ae ma heid knew it was too late when I registered the frantic beep ae a car horn. I remember readin’ that humans can survive up tae 11 days without sleep, yet I wasnae gonnae survive one. I remember closin’ ma eyes, bracin’ maself fae the impact ae some dobber’s bonnet when instead I felt something grab ma arm so tightly I though ma bones’d get crushed, and yankin’ me backwards. It was like I’d gone deaf fae a minute, or ma mind hadnae finished playin’ through ma greatest hits.
The next ‘hing I know Reid’s growlin’ at me, askin whit the hell’s wrong, and if I was blind. His face was blurrin’ dangerously, mergin’ wi the thousands ae other faces I’d seen or dreamt aboot. The noises ae the street were distant, a background echo. I heard ma name, angry and impatient, then I heard it again, softer, concern edgin’ its way in. then the ground came up, or the sky fell doon I cannae be sure. I felt someone’s arms again, grabbin ma shoulders and tryin’ tae ease me doon and avoid me landin’ sorely on ma arse. Reid’s grumbles came tae the forefront, and I heard him ask whit I’d touched in the shop.
I adamantly told him nothin’, I’m careful, usually careful. But ye never know, there’s so much nightmare stuff in every nook and crannie I couldnae really be sure. Ma mind, lethargic as it was, began tae try and play back the last time I was in the shop. The card game I’d lost wi’ Chronos, tidyin’ up some magazines, movin’ roond some jewellery, hidin’ in the back ae the shop readin’. There’d been a customer, a special one. A woman, and she’d brought somethin’ wi’ her. No a somethin’, a someone. A bairn, a demon bairn who wouldnae stop cryin’. The woman hadnae been gettin’ sleep, had been havin’ nightmares, that’s why she’d come. And noo I was the same.
I held oot ma arms and told Reid tae help me up, and like a wee old grannie crossin’ the road, we walked across it together. By the time we got intae the shop the Madam and Chronos were already waitin’. The wee shite’s greetin’ was an observation that I looked awful. I could imagine, but still, bein’ insulted by a four-legged wee fucker was a low point ae the entire experience. I ignored him and asked the Madam whit the hell the wee brat fae a few days before was.
She informed us that the brat was unbelievably a regular human, but the creature he was possessed by wasnae. Accordin tae her I’d annoyed it when it’d visited, and noo it was hauntin’ me the same way as the bairn’s mother. The creature, which she called a Fideal (“feechal”) or water spirit, would possess bairns in order tae feed aff the mother’s energy whilst she was sleepin. Anyone that got in the way ae their survival, or anyone who annoyed them, would never get a good night’s sleep. Lack ae sleep, or in ma case lack ae attention, would eventually kill the poor sod, and the Fideal would be free tae drain the mother ae its energy. This was all said in such a clinical tone it was hard tae believe the Madam even cared if I’d died, which I nearly had if it wasne fae Reid. I’ve thought aboot getting’ bumped aff by a lot ae ‘hings since startin’ in the shop, but a possessed bairn wasnae on ma list.
Madam Norna said she’d told the mother tae come back in a week because that was how long it’d take tae get the ‘hings she needed fae the exorcism. I was right then, the bairn was a demon ae sorts. Fionn had already been sent tae get what she needed and in few days I’d be able tae sleep. Obviously, that left a day or two ae night terrors. Fantastic. I’ve thought aboot how unfair it was that I attracted the Fideal’s wrath. I didnae remember doin’ anythin’ bad enough tae warrant it killin’ me. It was Madam Norna who helped it’s mother…well, victim. Why didn’t she look as awful as I did. And am I no supposed tae have some kind ae immunity tae these ‘hings? Then again, the Madam did say it wouldnae work all ae the time.
Ma boss gee’ me the same ‘hing she gee its mother, and I managed tae get a restless sleep fae the next two nights until the day ae the exorcism. I suppose callin’ it an exorcism is the wrong ‘hing. It may be demon esque, but it wasnae actually a demon but a water spirit fae folklore, and Madam Norna isnae an exorcist. Ma boss actually referred tae it as an expulsion, which was more accurate, believe me.
Fionn arrived in the mornin’ and gee somethin’ tae the Madam. The rest ae the day was spent waitin’ in anxious anticipation ae when the bell would go and the latest customer would enter. Throughout the mornin’ I kept ‘hinkin I heard the cryin’, just like the first time the week before. It’d get closer, and closer, and then someone would talk, or the roasters would bicker, and it’d be gone. Ma nerves were so frayed that when Fionn said somethin’ jokingly tae me I snapped at him harshly. Time dragged and me bein’ on edge put everyone else in the same mood, so by the time the bell did resound roond the shop you couldae cut the atmosphere wi’ a butter knife.
I took both the mother and her possessed bairn straight up tae see the Madam. Rather than me makin’ tea, a pot was already on the table. I noticed the Madam unusually no touchin hers, and when I went tae get mine I barely noticed the slight shake ae her heid. All was explained when the mother, after putting her empty cup back on its saucer, proceeded tae fall over, completely oot ae it. Whit the hell was in the tea, horse tranquiliser?
The bairn, who’d been whingin’ at a lower decibel than when he’d first appeared, went eerily silent as he watched his meal ticket slump over, unconscious. I stared at the bairn, waitin’ fae his neck tae twist all the way roond, waitin fae fangs tae show, or fae a tail tae appear. Ma hands became slick, and I stopped noticin’ the pins and needles in ma foot.
Tae look at he was normal, but as I’ve learned by noo, this is a world where wolves dae dress in sheep’s clothin’. Rather than fangs, or horns, or guttural voices, the watery eyes dried up, the bairn took a neatly folded hankie fae his trouser pocket and wiped away the stream ae snot, before fuckin’ foldin it just as neatly and puttin’ it back. No matter how serious he now looked, the fact that his feet didnae touch the ground and his legs were just danglin’ aff the end ae the sofa made the entire ‘hing have a hint ae the comical.
When it starteed speakin though, Christ, I thought I was havin’ auditory hallucinations again. The voice wasnae guttural, or raw, or raspy, but very clear and deep, like an adult. It was like watchin’ a film where they dub a voice over the actor’s own, and it was horrible. It asked the Madam, in all politeness, if she wouldnae just let it go, look the other way fae once. It wasnae doin’ that much harm, it woundae kill the mother, it was too evolved fae that. Silence fae Madam Norna. It continued that it’d release me fae its wrath, and wouldnae go after anyone else, it promised. I found maself believin’ its words. Fae wishful thinkin’, or the general tone ae sincerity, but I really thought that if we just let it go aboot its business that it’d keep tae its word. Silence again. it added, more desperately this time, that it’d only feed once a week, and try tae keep the nightmares tae a minimum.
Even I knew Madam Norna’s answer. No. not that she said it aloud. Instead she pulled somethin’ fae a pocket in her skirt and placed it on the coffee table in front ae me. It was a figure ae sorts, carved oot ae the purest silver birch I’d ever seen. Fae some angles it looked human, a bit like the Lewis chess pieces they found carved fae ivory on the Isle ae Lewis. Yet when looked at fae another angle, it was humanoid, as if covered by a sheet, the faint outlines ae somethin’ that was certainly no human, it was too long, too fluid. The most strikin’ feature was that it had no face. At the top, where it was rounded tae resemble a heid, was the only place where there werenae grooves, or markings. It was completely blank and flat. Like an empty canvas.
Whitever the figurine was, the reaction it got fae the water spirit was somethin’ else. Anything human vanished in an instant as it launched itself fae the sofa directly at ma boss. It got as far as the coffee table where I was before stopping and crumplin’ tae its knees. The skin ae the bairn’, before pale and clear, now had the distinct shadow ae scales, and an unnatural shimmer that wasnae fae sweat or tears. Where there’d been wee fingers and nails, were noo skeletal hands wi’ gleamin talons. I didnae waste anymore time eyeballin fae such a close distance, and scrambled ma way across the floor tae cower at ma boss’s feet. Nothin’ ever touched her, so she was a safe bet.
I stared at this monster, this creature stuck in a bairn’s body. A part ae it so human and innocent, yet slithers ae the unnatural peerin’ through. Its eyes were no longer round, but sharp, and the colour ae mercury, the iris’s pin pricks in the middle. At first I thought the coffee table had stopped him, perhaps some kind ae amulet I didnae know aboot had been stuck on the underside, or the figurine was actually some kind ae barrier. I observed the steam risin’ fae the bairn wi a strange curiosity. Lookin’ closer I saw delicate silver chains coateed in frost. Where they touched the bairn’s skin they burned wi white hot intensity, creatin’ the ribbon’s ae steam. I began tae feel the ice in the air, edgin’ doon ma throat. They looked so cold getting frostbite fae touchin’ them was the least ae ma worries.
The Fideal struggled against these chains, that were so thin and delicate they wouldnae look oot ae place as jewellery. Despite its struggling, and slow growls, they didnae move, and didnae gee way. They bit harder intae it’s shiny skin.
“Out”
Was all Madam Norna said in her soft, velvety voice. It croaked a refusal. She repeated the command, stronger this time. Another chain appeared aroond it’s upper arm. Every time she commanded it oot ae the bairn another chain appeared, searin’ intae its skin, curlin its body in on itself. More chains produced more steam, and all ae it was bein drawn intae the small figurine standin’ on the coffee table. Out. Out. Out. The words were repeated over and over again, swirlin’ roond the room like a whisper. Eventually there was a chink of release as the chains wrapped roond the bairn broke intae icy white particles before shootin’ straight at the figurine.
The bairn slumped on the ground, groggy and dazed, whilst I realised I was holdin’ someone’s hand. When I looked I found it was the Madam’s. I kept ma eyes on the bairn’s lethargic body, waitin’ fae its head tae peek up. The shine on his skin was gone, the outline ae scales just a memory. When his eyes eventually did begin tae look roond, I could see them well up. At least this time the tears were real.
He began tae wail, screech like a bloody Ban Sìth, and this woke his Ma’ up. Despite her own confusion she comforted her bairn, the real one, no the ‘hing tryin’ tae kill her. After some ramblin’, and apologies, the Madam took some money as payment, and they both left. I guessed that the money was symbolic rather than necessary. The figurine remained on the table, and when I had a nosy at it again I saw there was noo a face, or the vague shape ae one, carved intae the wood. Its eyes were narrow and sharp, the groove that was supposed tae be its mouth twisted in a silent scream.
I, unusually, found maself wi no words. I had a feelin’ ae release, like I’d been the one wrapped in chains. Suddenly the tiredness frightened away by the adrenaline returned wi a vengeance. Every limb felt weak, shaky, like I hadnae eaten anythin’ in as many days as I hadnae slept. Distantly I heard the Madam’s voice, explainin that the wooden figurine was an effigy, an object used tae trap spirits. The silver birch was specific tae water spirits, like the Fideal possessin’ the bairn. I felt maself noddin’ as I gathered the teapot and cups, putting them on a tray, wondering if I’d be able tae stand up.
I managed, just, but ma limbs felt like the bone had been pulled oot. Ma arms felt light and airy, but ma head felt leaden. I could feel ma legs shakin’ as I took one step, and another, and almost managed a third before I stumbled. Reid, appearin’ fae the door, although I hadnae heard the stairs, caught ma arms again. I claimed ma leg had gone tae sleep. I knew that wasnae the reason.
Madam Norna told Reid tae take me tae one ae the spare rooms where I could sleep. Aye, there’re spare rooms I didnae know aboot. It was like as soon as she said they were there they just appeared. It was doon a wee corridor, past other doors I’d never seen before, all painted either white or forest green. Fae whit I can remember at least. One had an open door, and inside was a room similar tae whit you’d find in a B&B. A single bed rested against one wall, a paintin’ ae a random sea view hangin’ above it. There was a desk wi nothin’ on it, and the windaes were covered over wi pristine white lace curtains, preventin’ me fae seein’ oot. Or perhaps there was nothin’ tae see.
I collapsed ontae the bed like I’d just come back fae the longest night oot. Reid, who’d helped me doon the corridor, turned tae leave me be. I asked where he was goin, and I could hear the tone in ma voice, even noo. The fear ae a bairn afraid ae the dark. He answered.
“Nowhere.“