Scots vocabulary
Peelie-wallie – pale, ill looking.
Picts – the name modern historians use to refer to the group/culture of people who inhabited parts of Scotland (mainly the North-East) before it was unified as Scotland, along with the Gaels (who came from what is today Ireland). They’re a relatively mysterious culture as they left no written records of themselves, but plenty of Pictish stones. What happened to them is also a mystery.
Clootie – Scottish word for a piece or scrap of cloth.
Clootie Well – Old, mystical well on the Black Isle in Scotland thought to have healing properties.
An Empty – Glaswegian slang for a house-party when the pal’s parents are away.
Story
*warning: reference to suicide
How do people make wishes? It seems as though there’s always an opportunity. Candles on a birthday cake, a shouting star, dandelion seeds, even the wishbone from your Sunday roast. Then there’s paying for your wishes by tossing a penny in certain bodies of water. Although I wouldn’t try it at your local loch. Fountains, ponds, and wells; I’ve thrown many a coin and watched it flutter to the bottom, landing amongst all of the others in various states of green. I don’t imagine I’m the only one who’s had the urge to dip my hand in and take a scoop. Each coin, every penny, cent, and yen is someone’s wish. Whether the water gods are in the mood to grant it is another story.
A special customer has arrived, looking a bit worse for wear, death warmed up. She’s peelie-wallie, contrasting with the dark moons underneath her eyes, which have a glazed look, like she’s struggling to see, to focus. Some recent weight loss causes her clothes to drown her. She looks at the tea as though it’s dog shite she’s stepped in. I wish I hadn’t bothered. I also wish I wasn’t in the same room, you never know if these things are contagious.
She tells us that she’s not been sleeping, not been eating, has rashes all over her body that she can’t stop scratching, and pains in every muscle she has. If it’s not one thing then it’s the other. She’s been to the doctor more times than she can count, they’ve done every test, scan, and examination they can think of but can find nothing wrong. Somehow the Madam’s card had made its way into her possession, and she’d come straight to the shop in the hope of a cure.
Occasionally I’ll glance at the Madam trying to read her expression. Usually, I have no luck. This time is different. There’s a shift in her features, that distant glaze to her eyes as she stares straight through the customer, her words nothing but fading background noise. My boss may not say much, but she always listens. This time it appeared her attention was drifting.
When the customer finished, her eyes pleading for help, the Madam nodded and directed me to the cabinet of wonders. It takes me a lot longer to fetch things from inside now, I’m too busy ogling at the rest of the contents. The shelves full of glass bottles, various candles lined up by colour spectrum and size, boxes containing mysteries, and dividers overflowing with crystals, stones, and precious gems. My task this time was to get one of the glass bottles with a green ribbon around its neck, filled with clear liquid that I would’ve said was vodka or water, but was probably something a bit more exciting. I placed it on the coffee table between the Madam and the customer, taking my seat to hear the explanation.
The woman was to drink the water over three days, taking an equal amount each day. After that her symptoms should disappear. I waited for the usual instruction to return to the shop if the remedy didn’t work, but it didn’t come. I felt my eyebrows start to crease into a frown, which I quickly smothered. It’s not like they ever came back unsatisfied anyway, perhaps my boss was sick of saying it.
The woman nodded her head in the most eager way a sleep-deprived person is able and left clutching the bottle like it was filled with holy water and she was being possessed by a demon. I kept my face as neutral as I was able as I looked to my boss, waiting for the explanation.
I’m surprised to say I actually knew this one. Well, half of it anyway. On the Black Isle, in the heart of the Highlands, lies an ancient and mysterious well. Thought by historians to date back thousands of years, with connections to the Druids and Picts of old, Cloutie Well, as it’s known today, is thought to bring healing and good health to anyone who ties a scrap of fabric soaked in its waters to one of the ancient trees surrounding it. As the rag decomposes or disintegrates so will the person’s illnesses.
It’s always water with Scottish folklore. That’s where our monsters come from and where our wishes are offered. We’re scared of it, yet we revere it. Scared of drowning in a loch or stream, but we’ll soak a rag in a well in the hopes it’ll heal us of our ailments. I suppose there’s a lot of it lying around, it’s only inevitable it makes up the foundation of our myths.
There are a few similar wells in Scotland, meant to have mystical and magical properties, usually the healing sort. What I didn’t know is that there’s one that does the opposite. A cursing well of sorts. Much like with Cloutie Well, this cursing well requires a piece of clothing belonging to the person you want to harm. All you need to do is soak the rag and then bury it near the well. This will visit all kinds of illnesses and ailments to the victim.
Well, that’s fucking horrible. I’m glad it’s not well known.
It had been water in the bottle given to the customer, some from a wishing well to counteract or break the curse put on her. I wonder why she has to drink it, when that’s not how it usually works. Maybe its quicker?
To me that was the end of it. More information I didn’t want to think about, another satisfied and uncursed customer, life went on. Until 4 days later when the woman returned. Her appearance even drew my familiar’s attention away from their game. This was unheard of. The Madam’s remedy hadn’t worked, the woman looked as awful as she had when she’d first arrived. I stumbled over my words, unable to string a coherent sentence together in the face of this customer’s return. As I passed by Fionn I noticed the shadow across his face, the glimmer in his eye that made the growing unease in my stomach clench painfully.
It’s fine. The Madam, although semi-immortal, is still mostly human. We all make mistakes. Or perhaps it was like medication and didn’t work the same way on everyone? There were plenty of explanations, I didn’t need to be concerned. So why was I despite all of those arguments?
I forgot about tea, preoccupied with the situation we unexpectedly found ourselves in. The customer sat down, told the Madam the remedy hadn’t worked, produced the empty bottle, and waited for the next suggested cure. A trip to Cloutie Well? To all of the healing wells? Some kind of ritual?
My boss let the silence linger as she surveyed the customer across the coffee table. There were cracks in her usual blank façade, a storm in her eyes I couldn’t tell was anger, frustration, or sadness. It didn’t make me feel any better.
I think a part of me wasn’t surprised when she said there was nothing else she could do. Something deep down, buried along with other useful things, could sense that something about this whole thing wasn’t right, a wrong note in a song, an incorrect harmony. The customer slumped on the sofa, her remaining energy and will seeping out of her like air out of a tyre. Madam Norna had been her last hope. Now it was gone only despair remained. People did drastic things when they were desperate.
When the customer left, I went with her. I opened the front door, heard the bell chime above my head and hoped that its echoes would drown out what I was about to do next. I followed the customer out and asked her for a piece of her clothing. I didn’t promise her anything, but said there was something else that I could try, it might take a few days. My own thoughts did point out that I might be giving this woman false hope, an impossible dream to cling to through her misery. But what was the alternative? Letting her go so she can throw herself off a bridge?
She reluctantly gave me a ripped piece of the lining of her coat. Emerald, green satin fabric that was silky soft between my fingers as I shoved it into my pocket. When I went back inside, I quickly told my familiars what was going on, keeping an eye out for Chronos. I didn’t want him knowing what I was going to do next.
I was going rifling through storage, but in order to get there I needed to slip past the Madam. Fionn was to be the distraction, allowing Reid and I to sneak past the front room and into storage without my boss noticing. If that was even possible. The comedy sketch of all three of us going upstairs in sync so the floorboards creaked at the same time tested my ability to hold in a laugh. Fionn went in, started talking about something I wasn’t really listening to as he closed the door behind him, and as silently as we were able Reid and I slinked past. Despite his height, Reid’s surprisingly light on his feet, fox-like. I’ve never been jealous of him before but that’d would’ve been a really handy skill when I used to sneak back to my Da’s house after a pal’s booze-filled empty during ma school days.
It was only when we got through the door into storage that I began to realise how badly thought out this plan had been. I had no idea where anything was, let alone a small bottle with some water in it. I vaguely remembered from the last time I set foot in there that there were a few cabinets that looked identical to the one in the front room. If there were fragile glass bottles anywhere, wouldn’t they be safely behind some doors? The only question was which doors.
The deeper we went the more cabinets I began to see, and the more wind was taken out of my sails. We had no choice but to check each one. We stuck together for a while, I stopped Reid from falling into a dark pit in one of the cabinets, he helped me close the doors of another that a long, grotesquely stretched arm shot out of grabbing chunks of my hair in its attempt to pull me in. Remembering that time was different in storage we reluctantly agreed to split up, but always kept the other within sight, just in case.
A few cabinets later I was growing exasperated, and when I flung open the doors in the hopes of spooking what was inside all I heard were the chink of glass bottles rippling against each other. It was the cabinet in the front room, it looked exactly the same, even down to the precious gemstones in the divider. Eagerly I begin to look for a bottle similar to the one the customer was given.
I began to hear a voice coming from the other side and assumed it was Fionn still distracting the Madam. It wasn’t long before I had the cold realisation that it was someone else, someone I’d heard before.
I felt Reid join me, kneeling down at my side. Just as he opened his mouth and uttered the first syllable of relief I grabbed his arm and shook my head as frantically as I could, motioning to keep silent with my other hand. His face tensed, the usual frown between his eyebrows deepening.
That voice, the one from beyond the cabinet, it was them. The shadow from Madam Anora’s shop. The person I couldn’t see, the only blind spot in the mirror.
The shadow is talking to someone, asking, or more checking that they didn’t help the customer who’d been cursed. There’s silence. I expect it to be filled with Anora’s voice. Something was wrong with the shop; this was the second time I’d been allowed to eavesdrop on her. Were we connected somehow, through something more than fate? The shadow doesn’t like the silence, and reminds Anora what’ll happen if she doesn’t do as she’s told.
I needn’t have worried about a connection. It wasn’t Anora’s sharp voice that I heard next.
The velvety tones of my boss filtered through the gaps in the cabinet door. She confirmed that she didn’t help the customer who’d been cursed by the ill-wishing well, and that the water she’d given her was fake. I glanced down and saw the bottle I’d been searching for, halfway back on the shelf. I felt my lips press together, my grip loosen on Reid’s arm.
I don’t know how long it was, if any more words were exchanged, but I heard the familiar click of the door to the front room open. I bolted out of storage. I needed to see this shadow, this person. I had to get rid of this feeling, this simmering fear that made my chest tight and my stomach churn. I needed to put a face to the voice, an eye colour, a build. I needed to make it human, something I could understand.
I heard the first syllable of my name as Reid followed me out. The door to the front room was shut, but I didn’t really care if Norna heard me. When I got down to the shop I could hear the faint echoes of the bell as it faded out. Fionn appeared from behind the counter, surprised momentarily before asking if we’d managed to find the water.
I interrogated him about the person who’d just left, just come for the Madam. I could hear the shrillness in my voice, the higher octave, the quiver. Fionn’s bemused face and his inability to remember anything about them, even though they’d walked right past him, only served to make my chest clench tighter. Was it a man or a woman? Brown or blonde hair? Tall or short?
The more I demanded the more Fionn floundered. He didn’t know, he couldn’t remember.
Why? Who were they? Why couldn’t I see them in Anora’s shop, why couldn’t Fionn remember them now? Why were the Madams obeying their commands? Why did I feel like it was only a matter of time before I knew the answers?
Scottish folklore time. Clootie Well is a real place in Scotland, it is situated on the Black Isle, and no I’ve never been. I’m such a bad Scottish person, I’ve never been to half of these cool places. Which actually might not be a bad thing as there’s some environmental problems with Clootie Well now as so many people have left bits of fabric that it’s starting to harm the wildlife and the trees that surround it. Also, because everything’s made of polyester these days, even clothes, the cloots or rags aren’t decomposing, which negates the point of the well in the first place. Outlander was great for tourism, but not so great for the environment. There’s a lot of places in Scotland that were featured on the show that are becoming hazards now, but I won’t get into that.
The way it works is the same as I said in the episode. You get a cloot, the Scottish word for rag or cloth, dip it in the water of the well, tie it to a nearby tree, and as the cloot decomposes your ailments will as well. Pretty simple.
Don’t worry, there’s no such thing as the cursing well, I made that up. Although there is a ceremonial well in Moray that goes back to the Picts but no one has been able to figure out what exactly it was used for. Almost definitely not cursing people to bad health but one can imagine.
Scottish culture time: I mentioned Maya sneaking back from a friend’s “empty”. This might be a generational thing as well, I don’t know if the bairns still use this terminology these days, but when I was a teenager and someone’s parents used to go away on holiday, or somewhere similar, and leave their children in the house alone, that child would have friends over, and we used to call that an empty. You can bet there was underage drinking and a lot of inappropriate shenanigans. It sounds quite irresponsible now, leaving your teenage children in the house alone. I’m talking late teens, I think it probably started when I was about 16, so not entirely irresponsible. But who am I to judge? But there you go, an empty was literally a gathering or a party in a friend’s house when their parents were away.
Scots language version
*warning: reference to suicide
How do people make wishes? It seems as though there’s always an opportunity. Candles on a birthday cake, a shooting star, dandelion seeds, even the wishbone fae your Sunday roast. Then there’s paying fae your wishes by tossin’ a penny in certain bodies ae water. Although I wouldnae try it at your local loch. Fountains, ponds, and wells. I’ve thrown many a coin and watched it flutter tae the bottom, landin’ amongst all ae the others in various states ae green. I dinnae imagine I’m the only one who’s had the urge tae dip ma hand in and take a scoop. Each coin, every penny, cent, and yen is someone’s wish. Whether the water gods are in the mood tae grant it is another story.
A special customer has arrived, lookin a bit worse fae wear, death warmed up. She’s peelie-wallie, contrastin’ wi’ the dark moons underneath her eyes, which have a glazed look, like she’s strugglin’ tae see, tae focus. Some recent weight loss causes her clothes tae drown her. She looks at the tea as though it’s dog shite she’s stepped in. I wish I hadnae bothered. I also wish I wasnae in the same room, ye never know if these things are contagious.
She tells us that she’s no been sleepin, no been eatin’, has rashes all over her body that she cannae stop scratchin, and pains in every muscle she has. If it’s no one ‘hing then it’s the other. she’s been tae the doctor more times than she can count, they’ve done every test, scan, and examination they can think ae but can find nothin’ wrong. Somehow the Madam’s card had made its way intae her possession and she’d come straight tae the shop in the hope ae a cure.
Occasionally I’ll glance at the Madam tryin’ tae read her expression. Usually I have no luck This time is different. There’s a shift in her features, that distant glaze tae her eyes as she stares straight through the customer, her words nothin’ but fading background noise. Ma boss may no’ say much, but she always listens. This time it appeared her attention was drifting.
When the customer finished, her eyes pleading fae help, the Madam nodded and directed me tae the cabinet ae wonders. It takes me a lot longer tae fetch things fae inside noo, I’m too busy ogling at the rest ae the contents. The shelves full ae glass bottles, various candles lined up by colour spectrum and size, boxes containin’ mysteries, and dividers overflowin’ wi crystals, stones, and precious gems. My task this time was tae get one ae the glass bottles wi a green ribbon aroond it’s neck, filled wi’ clear liquid that I wouldae said was vodka or water, but was probably somethin’ a bit more excitin’. I placed it on the coffee table between the Madam and the customer, takin’ ma seat tae hear the explanation.
The woman was tae drink the water over three days, takin’ an equal amount each day. After that her symptoms should disappear. I waited fae the usual instruction tae return tae the shop if the remedy didnae work, but it didnae come. I felt ma eyebrows start tae crease intae a frown, which I quickly smothered. It’s no like they ever came back unsatisfied anyway, perhaps ma boss was sick ae sayin’ it.
The woman nodded her head in the most eager way a sleep-deprived person is able and left clutching the bottle like it was filled wi’ holy water and she was bein possessed by a demon. I kept ma face as neutral as I was able as I looked tae ma boss, waitin’ fae the explanation.
I’m surprised tae say I actually knew this one. Well, half ae it anyway. On the Black Isle, in the heart ae the Highlands, lies an ancient and mysterious well. Thought by historians tae date back thousands ae years, wi’ connections tae the druids and picts ae old, Clootie well, as it’s known today, is thought tae bring healing and good health tae anyone who ties a scrap ae fabric soaked in its waters tae one ae the ancient trees surroundin’ it. As the rag decomposes or disintegrates so will the person’s illnesses.
It’s always water wi’ Scottish folklore. That’s where our monsters come fae and where our wishes are offered. We’re scared ae it yet we revere it. Scared ae drownin’ in a loch or stream, but we’ll soak a rag in a well in the hopes it’ll heal us ae our ailments. I suppose there’s a lot ae it lyin’ aroond, it’s only inevitable it makes up the foundation ae our myths.
There’s a few similar wells in Scotland, meant tae have mystical and magical properties, usually the healin’ sort. What I didnae know is that there’s one that does the opposite. A cursing well ae sorts. Much like wi’ clootie well, this cursing well requires a piece ae clothin’ belonging tae the person ye want tae harm. All ye need tae do is soak the rag and then bury it near the well. This will visit all kinds ae illnesses and ailments tae the victim.
Well that’s fuckin’ horrible. I’m glad it’s no well known.
It had been water in the bottle given tae the customer, some fae a wishing well tae counteract or break the curse put on her. I wonder why she has tae drink it, when that’s no how it usually works. Maybe its quicker?
Tae me that was the end ae it. More information I didnae want tae think aboot, another satisfied and uncursed customer, life went on. Until 4 days later when the woman returned. Her appearance even drew ma familiar’s attention away fae their game. This was unheard of. The Madam’s remedy hadnae worked, the woman looked as awful as she had when she’d first arrived. I stumbled over ma words, unable tae string a coherent sentence together in the face ae this customer’s return. As I passed by Fionn I noticed the shadow across his face, the glimmer in his eye that made the growin’ unease in ma stomach clench painfully.
It’s fine, the Madam, although semi-immortal, is still mostly human. We all make mistakes. Or perhaps it was like medication and didnae work the same way on everyone. There were plenty ae explanations, I didnae need tae be concerned. So why was I despite all ae those arguments?
I forgot aboot tea, preoccupied wi’ the situation we unexpectedly found ourselves in. the customer sat doon, told the Madam the remedy hadnae worked, produced the empty bottle, and waited fae the next suggested cure. A trip tae Clootie well? Tae all ae the healin’ wells? Some kind ae ritual?
Ma boss let the silence linger as she surveyed the customer across the coffee table. There were cracks in her usual blank façade, a storm in her eyes I couldnae tell was anger, frustration, or sadness. It didnae make me feel any better.
I think a part ae me wasnae surprised when she said there was nothin’ else she could do. Somethin’ deep doon, buried along wi’ other useful ‘hings, could sense that somethin’ aboot this whole ‘hing wasnae right, a wrong note in a song, an incorrect harmony. The customer slumped on the sofa, her remaining energy and will seepin’ oot ae her like air oot ae a tyre. Madam Norna had been her last hope, noo it was gone only despair remained. People did drastic ‘hings when they were desperate.
When the customer left I went wi’ her. I opened the front door, heard the bell chime above ma heid and hoped that its echoes would drown oot whit I was aboot tae do next. I followed the customer oot and asked her fae a piece ae her clothing. I didnae promise her anything, but said there was somethin’ else that I could try, it might take a few days. Ma own thoughts did point oot that I might be geein’ this woman false hope, an impossible dream tae cling tae through her misery. But whit was the alternative? Lettin’ her go so she can throw herself aff a bridge?
She reluctantly gee me a ripped piece ae the lining ae her coat. Emerald green satin fabric that was silky soft between ma fingers as I shoved it intae ma pocket. When I went back inside I quickly told ma familiars whit was goin’ on, keepin’ an eye oot fae Chronos. I didnae want him knowin’ whit I was gonnae do next.
I was goin’ riflin’ through storage, but in order tae get there I needed tae slip past the Madam. Fionn was tae be the distraction, allowin’ Reid and I tae sneak past the front room and intae storage withoot ma boss noticin’. If that was even possible. The comedy sketch ae all three us goin’ upstairs in sync so the floorboards creaked at the same time tested ma ability tae hold in a laugh. Fionn went in, started talkin’ aboot something I wasnae really listenin’ tae as he closed the door behind him, and as silently as we were able Reid and I slinked past. Despite his height, Reid’s surprisingly light on his feet, fox-like. I’ve never been jealous ae him before but that’d wouldae been a really handy skill when I used tae sneak back tae ma Da’s hoose after a pal’s booze-filled empty durin’ ma school days.
It was only when we got through the door intae storage that I began tae realise how badly thought oot this plan had been. I had no idea where anythin’ was, let alone a small bottle wi some water in it. I vaguely remembered fae the last time I set foot in there that there were a few cabinets that looked identical tae the one in the front room. If there were fragile glass bottles anywhere, wouldnae they be safely behind some doors? The only question was which doors.
The deeper we went the more cabinets I began tae see, and the more wind was taken oot ae ma sails. We had no choice but tae check each one. We stuck together fae a while, I stopped Reid fae fallin’ intae a dark pit in one ae the cabinets, he helped me close the doors ae another that a long, grotesquely stretched arm shot oot of grabbin’ chunks ae ma hair in its attempt tae pull me in. rememberin that time was different in storage we reluctantly agreed tae split up, but always kept the other within sight, just in case.
A few cabinets later I was growin’ exasperated, and when I flung open the doors in the hopes ae spookin’ whit was inside all I heard were the chink ae glass bottles rippling against each other. it was the cabinet in the front room, it looked exactly the same, even doon tae the precious gemstones in the divider. Eagerly I begin tae look fae a bottle similar tae the one the customer was given.
I began tae hear a voice comin’ fae the other side and assumed it was Fionn still distractin’ the Madam. It wasnae long before I had the cold realisation that it was someone else, someone I’d heard before.
I felt Reid join me, kneelin doon at ma side. Just as he opened his mouth and uttered the first syllable ae relief I grabbed his arm and shook ma heid as frantically as I could, motioning tae keep silent wi’ ma other hand. His face tensed, the usual frown between his eyebrows deepenin’.
That voice, the one fae beyond the cabinet, it was them. The shadow fae Madam Anora’s shop. The person I couldnae see, the only blind spot in the mirror.
The shadow is talkin’ tae someone, askin’, or more checkin’ that they didnae help the customer who’d been cursed. There’s silence, I expect it tae be filled wi’ Anora’s voice. Somethin’ was wrong wi the shop, this was the second time I’d been allowed tae eavesdrop on her. Were we connected somehow, through somethin’ more than fate? The shadow doesnae like the silence, and reminds Anora what’ll happen if she doesnae do as she’s told.
I neednt’ae worried aboot a connection. It wasnae Anora’s sharp voice that I heard next.
The velvety tones ae ma boss filtered through the gaps in the cabinet door. She confirmed that she didnae help the customer who’d been cursed by the ill-wishing well, and that the water she’d given her was fake. I glanced doon and saw the bottle I’d been searchin’ fae, halfway back on the shelf. I felt ma lips press together, ma grip loosen on Reid’s arm.
I dinnae know how long it was, if any more words were exchanged, but I heard the familiar click ae the door tae the front room open. I bolted oot ae storage. I needed tae see this shadow, this person. I had tae get rid ae this feelin’, this simmerin’ fear that made ma chest tight and ma stomach churn. I needed tae put a face tae the voice, an eye colour, a build. I needed tae make it human, somethin’ I could understand.
I heard the first syllable ae ma name as Reid followed me oot. The door tae the front room was shut, but I didnae really care if Norna heard me. when I got doon tae the shop I could hear the faint echoes ae the bell as it faded oot. Fionn appeared fae behind the counter, surprised momentarily before askin’ if we’d managed tae find the water.
I interrogated him aboot the person who’d just left, just come fae the Madam. I could hear the shrillness in ma voice, the higher octave, the quiver. Fionn’s bemused face and his inability tae remember anythin’ aboot them, even though they’d walked right past them, only served tae make me chest clench tighter. Was it a man or a woman? Brown or blonde hair? Tall or short?
The more I demanded the more Fionn floundered. He didnae know, he couldnae remember.
Why? Who were they? Why couldn’t I see them in Anora’s shop, why couldnae Fionn remember them noo? Why were the Madams obeying their commands? Why did I feel like it was only a matter ae time before I knew the answers?