By Stuart S. Laing Word Count: 5237 Rating: PG Summary: Scottish Soldiers tell stories around the Barracks Edinburgh, Scotland 1st November 1746 “Och, we may as well make ourselves comfortable. That rain isn’t going to let up any time soon.” Sergeant Angus MacIan of Edinburgh’s Town Guard gave a slow shake of his grey head as... Continue Reading →
"You are the one who has suffered from these attacks - the phenomena - you have mentioned. Therefore, we must pray that a special grace descends upon you."
"What Gabriel is trying to say is that the veil between the land of the dead and ours is much thinner tonight. We shouldn't joke about such matters."
Detective Barnaby Joshua Tentins stood in the cold, miserable September rain. At his feet, his Scottish terrier, Muddy, huddled against an icy brick wall.
"Carlisle was being suspicious around one of the planting carts yesterday, and I thought he slipped something in his pocket...and now somebody's missing their watch."
"I learned the language that no mortal should ever learn - what the shadows whisper when in the stealth of night they creep round your lonely feet on a stranger's road."
"This house is old, my lord. It is on nights like this that it remembers just how old it is and the will to hold its stones together grows weak."
"You shall not have my body, and death shall have no dominion," she declared, though her voice was shaking.