So this story is a thing that's happening. I'm just rolling with it as it unfolds haha. If you have read my other work, I promise I have not forgotten it so much as I hit a wall after losing a chapter and decided to take a breather from it. The site has some formatting limitations that aren't my favorite, so I've had to adjust some of this first journal entry section.
Since the All Soul's Trilogy section on this site seems to be lacking a bit as far as being able to add characters and all that...This is a Gallowglass/OC fic. It will be part of a larger series called Peregrinus Animus, Peregrinus Anima, Peregrinus Cor. I can add a summary of that series in my profile, so if anyone is interested in what it's going to look like please let me know.
Would love to hear what you think!
Chapter 1: The Visitor
The lawn was cared for well enough. A little overgrown, but someone had been around to mow it and pull the weeds. The mailbox was full though, and there was a notice hanging from its mouth, informing the resident of the house to visit the post office to collect the rest. The visitor pulled the slip from the latch, and then collected the envelopes and parcels that had been shoved inside, tucking them under his arm and making his way up the drive. There was no car parked in front of the house, and he had a hunch that the garage would be empty too.
He peered through the window by the front door. House was dark. No movement inside. He knocked though he knew no one would be home.
It didn't take long to pick the lock and push open the door. He acted like he belonged there, and the neighbors were unlikely to say anything about it. If the house was as empty as he thought it was, they were likely at this point to simply turn their heads. It had become that house in the neighborhood. The one that made everyone distinctly uncomfortable though they had no idea the reason why. It had an energy. It was haunted. Abandoned. At least, it was occasionally, though never long enough to warrant being torn down or sold. The presence of gardeners and the tidy way the owners had organized their affairs suggested that they were simply on vacation, but the visitor knew the truth.
A flip of a light switch told him the power had been turned off. A finger run lightly over the ledge in the entryway said that no one had dusted in a long time. There was a stench permeating from the kitchen and he could venture a guess that no one had taken out the trash before they left for their trip, and if he were to open the fridge, he was sure to find a mini ecosystem inside.
The master bedroom was immaculate and untouched. It hadn't been used in a long time, perhaps even longer than the owner had been away. The bedroom across from it, on the other hand, looked like the aftermath of a tornado. Clothes strewn across every surface, bed unmade, coffee mugs - now covered in pink and brown fuzz - littered the desk and nightstand surfaces. The trash can was full of crumpled up paper. There was a bottle of anti-nausea pills next to a bag of stale edibles and anxiety meds. A lone vitamin c tablet was left abandoned on the floor by the bed.
The visitor bent down to pick up the small object, studying it. He was both amused and incredibly saddened by this small detail. By all of these small details. Here was the missing piece. He held it lightly in his palm and closed his eyes. The visitor was not a stranger to secrets. Had a fair few of them himself. But he had never seen secrets that were so desperate to be told. Secrets that were just waiting for someone to come along and ask the right questions. Secrets begging to be liberated from the confines of their silence. When he opened his eyes again, a small black object caught his eye. He stood, detangled the blankets from the heap they'd been left in on the bed, and picked up a small black composition notebook. Flipped it open to the first page. The handwriting was weak, like the author hadn't held a pen for quite some time before they took to this page. And there were whole paragraphs that had been written and then scribbled out so that even when they were held up to the light, no one could read them.
A couple pages later, after several start and stop attempts at writing and then redacting their words, the author finally settled for an eloquent 15 April 2011 - what the fuck.
The visitor couldn't help but laugh at that. That was one way to sum it up.
The next page was far more coherent and far more revealing of the person behind the pen.
Journal Entry: 15 April 2011
Gallowglass:
Derived from the Gaelic word Gall Óglaigh; to mean "foreign warrior;" often a young man of Scottish and Viking ancestry. First written record established in the mid-12th century; a Gall Óglaigh mercenary presence is first noted in Ireland though it is rumored that these warrior clans existed for generations beforehand in the West Highlands of Scotland.
Note: The final -ss in the English form has been difficult for scholars to explain. Has been attributed to the Anglicization of the Irish plural form of gallóglaigh (later to be called galloglasseis) though many have struggled to explain why this shift hasn't been reflected in earlier variations of the word. **
*Key pieces of information gathered from popular sources including but not limited to Mssrs Merriam and Webster (circa Modern Era)
*May also have been a valiant attempt by a foreign serf girl to connect with a medieval knight named Sorley
Malvina:
(Name, female. Origin, Gaelic. 12th Century)
Meaning: One with smooth forehead
Coined by the low-down drunkard Wallace MacPhearson for a girl who fell from thin air in front of him and landed face first in the mud.
Airer Goídel/Arregathel:
Also known as Argyll. Loosely translates to Coast of the Gaels. Located in the Western Isles of the Scottish Highlands.
Feudalism:
A total piece of shit construct for society. 0/10. Would not recommend.
The visitor read over this page a couple times, before nodding to himself and tucking the journal into his back pocket for further perusal. Unable to stifle his growing curiosity, he continued to pick through the room and the rest of the house, desperate to unveil the secrets that were hidden there.
