Page 58 of Once Upon A Haunted Castle
Part Five
Demon’s that is dreaming….
Present Day
Findlater Castle (also known as Whitecliff)
“So for allof its ghosts and legends, we weren’t actually able to capture the woman in white who is said to roam the grounds looking for her lost love, but we did manage to catch tapping on our EVP recordings.” Heather, dressed in a striking red coat with her dark hair blowing as the wind whipped up from the Firth of Moray, smiled for the camera. “I’m very happy to say that we have not been able to debunk the sounds of the tapping so, in some part, the legends of the mysterious Findlater Castle could be real. Who makes those tapping noises? Why does the lady in white wander the grounds? Is it really Lady Lenore searching for her lost lover? And what about the legend of angry Viking ghosts? Perhaps we’ll never know the truth of any of that, but it’s certainly interesting to speculate. Thank you for watching and until next time, keep that nightlight on, people. You just never know what’s in the dark. I’m Heather Monroe for World’s Best Haunts.”
There was a long pause before her sound technician, with the big boom mic overhead, lowered the microphone as the director yelled cut. The cameraman stopped rolling the taping and the sound people immediately began to discuss how they could filter out all of the hissing noises and wind-blowing from the finished recording. The lighting people began to fold up the lights and the camera guys, three of them, began to check their equipment to make sure the recording was perfect. Heather and her eleven crewmembers began to wrap it up as Lynn, standing at the back of the production, moved through the group and up to Heather, who was removing her earpiece.
“So?” Lynn asked, helping Heather with the tiny sound cord. “What do you think?”
Heather turned to look at the ruins behind her, wind-swept as a storm blew in from the east. “I think this is one of the creepier locations we’ve ever filmed at, but I think this show is one of our best. Especially that creepy tapping. That was wild.”
Lynn nodded. “Definitely,” she said. “So let’s wrap this up and head back to town. There’s a big ol’ glass of beer at the Three Kings Inn with my name on it.”
Heather grinned, unwinding the last of the mic cord from her jacket and clutching it in her hand. “Sure,” she said, turning to look at the ruins behind her. “But let me say goodbye to this place. I have to say that I’ve felt a real connection here. Not sure why, or what, but this place has kind of touched me. I’m not sure I’m ready to leave yet.”
Lynn lifted her eyebrows knowingly. “So the story of Lenore has gotten to you, too?”
Heather shrugged and, chuckling, turned back for the old ruins on the cliff. The crew was wrapping up behind her, getting ready to make their trek back to the farm about a half a mile away where the cars were parked. Findlater was so remote that they couldn’t park next to it, so they’d had to make a bit of a hike to the filming location. Fortunately, the equipment they carried really wasn’t particularly heavy so it wasn’t a real problem to carry it all back to the car.
With her crew heading back, Heather entered the ruins of Findlater. The path leading through what had once been the gatehouse was well defined from many, many visitors walking it over the years, and she passed by the pile of stones that used to be part of the gatehouse wall. The promontory that the castle was built on jutted out into the sea but it wasn’t particularly high, having been worn down over the centuries, so she moved on the path with confidence. Oddly enough, she felt as if she’d been there before.
She knew this place.
Ahead of her was the uneven area of the bailey with remnants of buildings still surrounding it, including what had once been a two-story keep. An archaeologist she’d spoken to from the University of Edinburgh had a theory that there were even storage rooms beneath the keep, but it had sunk down so low over the centuries that it was hard to tell. Whatever was down there had long since collapsed.
Still, it was the keep itself that fascinated her. Heather felt drawn to it as she always did when they investigated historical sites like this. She was a firm believer that every place in the world was haunted with residual energies from those who had lived and loved there. Heather wasn’t exactly psychic but she did get feelings sometimes, or impressions. Right now, she was getting a distinct impression of loneliness as she walked upon the grass that had once been the floor of the entry level of the keep. Now, it was just sod. The once-grand keep was only a faded memory of its former self.
But there was a doorway on this level that led into a roofless chamber. The remains of a hearth could be seen and Heather wandered in, wondering why she was feeling such sadness. Maybe it was because the show was over and she had to leave, but somehow, it seemed more than that. The sadness seemed to come from everywhere.
One side of the open-roof chamber was a grassy slope and she went to it, plopping her buttocks on the grass and just sitting for a moment to enjoy the air and the sound of the waves. She had grown quite fond of Findlater in spite of what the old guy had said in the bar the previous week.
You might not like what you find.
He had been wrong. She liked it a lot.
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore….
Heather had become very familiar with that poem over the past week. Now she knew it by heart. Somehow, looking at these old walls and imagining them on a moonless night, she could really see what had inspired Poe to write that poem. This place was definitely dreary, creepy as hell. As she picked up a small rock and tossed it, trying to make it through a ruined window, she heard movement off to her left.
A raven had slipped down the slope and was now cackling and clicking, waddling over near the path she had just come down from. At the sight of the bird, Heather’s mouth popped open.
“You’ve got to bekiddingme,” she hissed, looking at the black bird bob about. “No way….”
The bird stopped and looked at her, squawking. Then it tittered, chirped, and began moving in her direction, bold and curious. Heather could hardly believe what she was seeing.
“Seriously?” she said to the bird, as if it understood her. “I’m sitting here thinking of passages fromThe Ravenandyoushow up?”
The bird continued to walk in her direction, bobbing its head, peering at her with its big black eyes. It seemed to want to be friendly. At the very least, it was curious. Heather gazed back, equally curious of the bird, before finally holding out the earpiece and cord she’d been holding in her hand. It was a little earpiece with a long cord and she dangled it for the bird, just to see its reaction. Maybe she even wanted to tease it. The irony that this bird had shown up at this point in time was unfathomable. Of all the crazy coincidences….
Snatch!
The bird suddenly grabbed the earpiece and took off in the opposite direction, half-running and half-flying. Heather leapt to her feet and ran after the bird.
“Hey!’ she yelled. “Give that back, you thing of evil! What did Poe call you? A devil bird! Give it back, Spawn of Satan!”
