Chapter 37: The Way Is Shut

To say that I was in an uncomfortable situation would have been an understatement. It was late in the night. I should have been in bed. Instead, I was outside, clinging to a stone wall for dear life.

I had a very simple plan.

Step one: Sneak out of my room (easy.)

Step two: Find a Ghost (also easy.)

Step three: Use the Ghost to enter my own mind (that's a tad weird.)

And step four: Find out what's inside of me (weirdo.)

There were just three problems: Ren, Amina, and Magenta.

I knew at least one of them would've started asking me questions at dinner, so I decided to pretend I was sick, and spent the rest of the day in my room.

All three of them knocked on my door a number of times, hoping to talk to me. But I was not interested in having any guests, and simply told them to let me rest.

I had a horrible feeling they were getting suspicious of my strange behaviour, and was worried that wondering idly around the mansion, looking for a ghost, would likely result in me being caught. I needed a plan B.

I didn't like it. But I couldn't see any other way of doing this. Very carefully, I climbed out of my window, and up the wall. The plan was to get up onto the roof, and look for some way into the attic. It seemed like a good place to look for ghosts (obviously.)

This wasn't the first time I've had to climb so high off the ground before. And the stone walls had plenty of gaps and edges for me to get my fingers into. It was still a little damp from the recent storm, but it wasn't dangerously slippery.

But there was one more little benefit that I was not expecting. Night vision. Had the skies been clear, and the moon nice and bright, I would have been able to see quite well. But the skies were still filled with thick storm clouds.

It should have been impossible for me to see. But it wasn't. It was a though my entire surroundings had been covered in a fine layer of silver dust. Highlighting everything around me in a wide diameter. A little too far, considering I could see the ground below. A daunting reminder on how high up I was.

But soon enough, the battlements lining the roof became my next concern. They were old, rusty, and sharp. Crawling over these things would hurt, and possibly cause an infection (and not the sexual kind either.)

But then I had an idea. With one hand, I grabbed one of the spikes and tried to bend it. Despite its condition, the rusted spike refused to budge. I tried another one. No good. Then another. Also no good.

The next five minuets were spent moving along the edge of the roof. Testing every single spike for any signs of weakness. But I was beginning to suspect that this place was not what it seemed. Magic could be keeping this place intact. So brute force wasn't going to be enough.

Cursing under my breath, I climbed back down, and into the window again. I remerged shortly after, carrying my pack. Inside were three blankets I had found under my bed. Very carefully, I threw them over one section of the battlements. Hoping they would be enough to protect me from the spikes.

It took a number of attempts. And I knew that at least one of the blankets now had holes in it (sorry Magenta.) But with a great deal of effort, I managed to pull myself up and over the battlements, and onto the roof.

I couldn't really tell if whether or not the roof was made of stone like it's walls were, because it was covered in a thick layer of moss and bird droppings. And from up here, I could faintly hear two voices coming down from the entranceway (probably those Gargoyles.)

Over to my right, I could see the chimney. Like the roof, it was covered in moss. It was actually a lot bigger that than what I had expected. And there was no more smoke billowing out of it.

I found myself walking over to it. Asking myself "What do I do now?" It was then that my foot caught something in the ground. Sending me face first into the moss and bird droppings (bahahaha!)

Wiping the crap off my face, I pulled myself back to my feet. Looking for what had tripped me over. There was a small lump of moss sticking out of the mass. Puling some of it away, I found what looked like a simple turning mechanism. Pulling some more of the moss out, I realised I had literally stumbled upon a hatch, leading straight down into the what I had to assume was the attic!

I couldn't help but grin at my ridiculous stroke of luck. "This must be my night." I chuckled smugly to myself.

(It's probably locked.)

"It had better not be."

It was locked.

"Son of a bitch."

(Told you so.)

"Fuck off."

(Make me!)

"You're asking for it!"

"Oo ya talkin to?" came a masculine voice.

(Alright, I'm leaving.)

"I'm talking…." I spun myself around and Reached for my bow. But then remembered that I hadn't brought any weapons with me. It wasn't by accident. I didn't think my arrows or knife would have worked on a Ghost, and I wasn't ballsy enough to test that theory out.

Standing….or floating right in front of me, was a middle-aged man. He was wearing a woollen coat, but with some of his buttons undone, I could also see he had a chainmail hauberk underneath. Looking at the banded kettle helm on his head, the quiver of arrows strapped to his hip, and the long bow in his hand, I realised that this guy was an Archer. A very unhappy Archer.

"Who are you!?" I shouted in surprise.

The man blinked.

"Oo am I!?" He shouted back. "Oo are you!?"

"I'm Bain Kolf-Skot!"

"Heeey! What's going on up there!?"

"….Just a second lad."

The ghostly guardsmen moved over to the edge of the roof and shouted down to the Gargoyles with a fist raised in the air.

"Mind yer bums wax, ya stone faced, scuttlebutting slags!"

And then, ignoring the harsh responses from below, he made his way back to me. The harsh name calling had seemingly put him in a good mood, as he was no longer frowning.

"Der names Ailill Brady, an I'm da poor git in charge of watchin over dis ere kip!"

I scratched my head awkwardly as I tried to put together what he had just said.

"Kip?"

The man laughed loudly before pointing downwards.

"Dis here, laddie!" He responded cheerfully.

"A real rotten one at dat! But I've bin watchin over it for…."

He paused. Pulled off his helmet, and began to scratch his balding head.

"Wut month is et lad?"

"Autumn's….Dew?" I answered nervously.

"Oh!" He said. "Nut very lon then! Bout six months!"

He then frowned as he pulled his helmet back on.

"But it's felt onger than dat, now dat I think on it."

The odd fella shook his head and continued before I could take the conversation any further (drat.)

"Anyway, wat do ya think yer doin up here, laddie?" He said in a somewhat more serious manner.

"yer not a thief, I'm hopin."

"No." I responded indifferently.

A toothy smile began to form on his face.

"Den, you're a cheeky Rossie, that's hoping ta have a shag!" He shouted in a condescending manner (the nerve!)

"I was looking for a ghost." I explained firmly.

Again, Ailill's eyes narrowed as he regarded me.

"Well….ya don look like no chancer. But what would ya be foostering ere for?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? Dis eres a brothel, ya know?"

"Yes. A haunted brothel."

Ailill shook his head slowly.

"First time I ever urd of dis!"

This was starting to get confusing. And a little annoying too. This guy didn't even seem to be aware of the fact that he was dead. This meant that he wouldn't be willing, and perhaps even capable of possessing my brain!

"Look, can I please have a look in the attic?" I asked through my teeth.

"Suppose it be right." He answered with a shrug.

We stared at each other for a few awkward moments.

"Then, could you please unlock the hatch?" I said rather slowly.

Ailill looked at me. Then to the hatch. And back to me again.

"It's already open, ya dope!" He shouted rather rudely.

I looked back down to the hatch. It was clearly closed.

"It's closed."

"It's open!"

"It's closed!"

"It's effin open!"

"It's fracking closed!"

Once again, one of the Gargoyles decided to butt into our conversation.

" Oi! What's going on up there, Ailill!?"

Ailill was about to shout something back to her, but I had beaten him to the punch. I was tired, hungry, and royally pissed off (give it to her!)

"Shut the hell up, ya brown-nosing tart! We're talking!" (Oh, snap!)

A stunned silence followed. Outbursts like that were quite rare for me. I usually just rolled with it. But not this time. And then I remembered where I was, and what I was doing. If Magenta found out I was up here, I could end up in a lot of trouble.

A cold, misty hand on my shoulder snapped me out of my thoughts as Ailill began to laugh.

"Fair play, boyo!" He shouted proudly. "Ya showed her, didn't ya!"

"let's get back to the topic, please." I said between breaths."

"Look, laddie, the hatch is already open!" He stated firmly.

I decided to prove him wrong with a demonstration. I stepped on top of the hatch and looked at him expectantly.

"Well?"

The poor man jumped (or floated) back. A look of absolute surprise and bewilderment on his ghostly face.

"I must be locked, coz it looks like yer floating in da air!" (FUUUUUCK!)

"Take a look at me, mate!" I shouted furiously. "Can't you see that I'm standing on a closed hatch!"

I then began to jump up and down on the bloody thing as Ailill continued to gawk at me.

"I. Am. Standing. On. The… CRASH!

Now, to be fair, I probably should have seen this coming. I assumed the entire exterior was being kept together by magic. Which is why I was rather surprised when the hatch suddenly gave way to my weight, and I found myself falling a good number of feet down. Hitting the ground below with a loud THUD!

I opened my eye after the impact, and found myself in a horrible place. Everything was dark. All I could see was what appeared to be a barrage of flashing lights that seemed to be pouring down like rain. Said streaks of light felt like cold needles as they pierced my flesh. Making my body spasm and shake uncontrollably.

I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't even scream. I was trapped.

Thoughts began to rush through my head. But they in turn, began to develop a life of their own. Whispering all around me. Their numbers and intensity increasing with each passing second.

"Where am I?" "Where am I?" "Where am I?"

"Why can't I move?" "Why can't I move?" "Why can't I move?"

"This place!" "This place!" "This place!"

"No way out!" "No way out!" "No way out!"

"STOP IT!" "STOP IT!" "STOP IT!"