Of Things Wraithlike and Most Uncanny: Lowlands-L’s Crypt
Of Things Wraithlike and Most Uncanny: Lowlands-L’s Crypt


My Scariest Halloween
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That Damned House
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Nine Fragments
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He Woke
Moaning on the Moor
Dat klaagt in’t moor
De reus van Börk
Grote Harold van Börk


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[Nine Fragments bi Sandy Fleemin] (In Scots)



Backlins tae the seicont fragment


...A  bittie wi the fricht, an it vainishes, an she hears something flitterin by nearabuin her heid, an syne she leuks up intae the black lift, an the’r naething she can see but the flauchts o white storm birlin doun intae her face.

“Sae I kent for shuir the war vampires aboot the toun,” qo Ísabel, “the thing wis, thay seemed tae be feared fae me. But tho Cranmore haedna bitten me aathing haed chainged: it’s the differ atween wishin the war vampires aboot, an kennin the ar.”

An sae ae day whan the simmer cam roond, Ísabel wis gangin her gate fae the Naitral Philosophy buildin in the North Hauch up tae the Observatory, an what dis she spy but this lassie comin oot o Purdie, a open parasol on her shouther, her face pure white ablo her sunglesses. A bleezin sun tho the war, Ísabel jalouzed this wis a vampire. Sic a differ the ar atween wishin vampires wis aboot an kennin thay’r aboot, she jalouzed it richt awa.

Ísabel follaed her whaur she wis gaun. Doun the steps atween the Mathematics an Naitral Philosophy buildins, ower the North Hauch an ablo the railwey brig, syne up alang North Street tae whaur thay wis buildin the new librar. The lassie turnt in on the buildin site, an, a gey an orra thing tae see wi aa the leddy-like fantoushery she wis buskit wi, she sclimmed doun intae a hole in the foond o the librar, heystit the lid aff this lang widden box, an got in, lyin hersel doun an pùllin the lid atae ower the tap o her.

Ísabel waitit in this hole on the buildin site that nicht for the vampire tae kythe, but she didna. Syne the nixt nicht, an the nixt. She wondered war it the lang lichty nichts ye git this faur north, or did the lassie come oot throu the day, wi aa her creams an fantoushery for tae gae tae lecturs, an didna bather at nicht? Ae muinlicht nicht she liftit the lid an saw the lassie sleepin thare, an never did she steer. Syne Ísabel touched the cauld fleesh an the een opent. The lassie lowpit strecht for her, her chafts raxed like a puma shawin its fangs, but for aa that she …



Forrit tae the fowert fragment

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