24 April 2015
769
R. Linda:
Weasel told me that recently a friend of his bought an old ruin of a castle in Scotland. The price was very little, and well it should be as 3/4 of the castle walls were nothing but rubble on the ground. However, in the half-standing tower I was told one could look over hills and dales and even a lough where the water rippled in the high winds of the Highlands -- and was as black as night. No not Loch Ness, but some other lough, loch, lake. If there be some sea serpent in that lough I have not heard, but it is ominous to look out at the black water, I understand, without getting a shiver up one's spine.
There is one wall and enclosure that is still standing I be told. And that if you got up on the half-open tower (where the breeze will blow you about with no mercy) and stand upon the crumbling stone stairs, it be like one is experiencing a hurricane! There be a doorway up there that had been shored up that the new owner broke open to find two rooms inside the wall still intact. Messy, full of bird droppings, leaves, broken stonework, and such, the laddie spent a week clearing it out. He got a friend and they used mortar to restore where they could and basically got the two rooms into some order.
One room was made into a makeshift kitchen (because they had to have their food) and the other a bedroom of sorts. Well, the black lough in the distance and the high winds had so unnerved the other fellow he decided he was going back to Glasgow, he was done. He told the new owner that he felt like he was being watched as he worked, and he felt like something dreadful would happen if he stayed. Besides which, was that as he worked, he had the distinct feeling his ears were being pulled but there was nothing there! The new owner felt none of this and told his friend he understood (which he did not) and this is how the Weas got the call to come take the helper's place.
As you know the Weas be an enthusiastic sort he is and it would be just up his alley to be on top of a ridge looking down at the minions below (of which there were none), a black lake would not be a bother and as you also know, nothing scares the Weasil. I will say many a time the Weasil has frightened the bejayus out of me, but that is neither here nor there.
It came to pass that for two weeks the two laboured on these two rooms and the owner moved in, without electricity, without a working water closet, without heat, without much at all but a lovely renaissance-style bed and a few family tapestries placed strategically on the old stone walls to shut out what wind they couldn't mortar out.
A large assortment of medieval candle holders were got from somewhere and so at night at least there was a blazing two rooms in the old ruin that could be seen from far far away. At night with the aid of so much light, the owner drew up his plans for renovation. He had to go into Inverness which was some distance south and so he asked Weasil if he would stay at the old place one night to make sure it was secure. Secure from what I have no idea.
But Weasil being a camper and adventurer as you well know, jumped at the opportunity to stay saving him the long drive from the closest village which was some kilometres away. Well, it ended up being a lonely day and into the night the Weas was looking forward to a rainy, windy night of howling winds, and rain lashing the shingled roof above (which he had just finished repairing that very day), and all was ripe for a good nights sleep! Yes, it was, or so he thought.
Well, all happened as Weasil thought it might, the wind howled, the rain lashed, and he slept fitfully until the devil's hour of 3:30 a.m. He was restless and no matter what he couldn't fall back to sleep. He lit one candle and got out his mobile phone, as remote as he was he did have some reception, spotty that it was, but enough he could read his email. When he was done he played a few games on his cell and then bored, he decided to download an app or two. Well, none would download and as he sat cursing, he thought he heard the "woo woo woo" sound that goes without saying that the Weasil was not alone but in the presence of a spirit!
For some unexplained reason, his ears tingled and felt hot. He thought he felt a tug on his left ear but wasn't sure it was some muscle spasm from how he was lying in the bed. I tell ya a muscle spasm in one's ear? Come on, really?
Weas was able to Google for a very short few minutes the history of the place he was lying in by candlelight.
Now legend said that the former occupant of said ruins was a mighty and bloodthirsty warrior knight of the William Wallace era who cut off men's ears and ate them for breakfast. He drank their blood because he thought it would give him more power and so the tale goes. Neither the new owner nor the Weas would normally be phased by such stories, but late at night, with wind and rain, sleep becoming elusive, and nothing much to do, one's mind might just start to conjure up the memory and that perhaps the stories were true?
What would someone like Weasil do in a case like this? Look at the ghost-busting apps to download to his mobile phone, that's what. And that is exactly what the laddie did. He found one app that after several others, downloaded with ease. Now that in itself might tell you spirit was guiding that one app for one ungodly purpose, but Weasil was not thinking, which is usually the case and so he was happy to have the download.
Thrilled to the nines the Weasil set up his new ghost proggie as he called it, and settled back in his cushy sheets and goose-down comforter to track the ghost. The app came with sound effects I might add and those did unnerve our Weasil to which he turned that off and let the ghost warning which was a pong sound be the only one besides that of the howling wind and rain outside to invade his delicate hearing.
He didn't have long to wait, for within a minute a PONG sounded and on the small phone screen there appeared a ghost floating across the screen and disappearing through the opposite wall. I would think that would raise the hairs on one's neck if the sound accompanied it. Now when you pointed your phone to the right the image on the screen of a square box room would zoom to the right and at first nothing. But when Weas zoomed to the left, BINGO, a loud PONG sounded and there coming out of the wall was a ghosty. Yes, and Weasil was thrilled. He tracked the image as it floated up to his ceiling and down to the left and then to the right, and as the rain and wind howled the Weasil's attention was rapt on the image, his eye lit up with satisfaction that yes there was a ghost in his room!
For about thirty minutes the Weasil was thus occupied until another pong sounded and a second ghost came into the room. Well, this was wonderful to be able to track not one but two ghosts and to speculate who the second might be? An earless victim of the first ghosty? He thought so until the third, and the fourth and the fifth ghosty drifted in and well the Weasil after ten minutes was surrounded by too many ghosts to count!
The novelty had worn way off as the wind and rain got stronger, the pong sounds more frequent and the Weasil was steadily losing his nerve and virb as the spiritual visitors increased. Another five minutes and the Weasil had enough, but instead of shutting the programme off, he went into the other room and closed the door. Fumbling with his phone he got the torch app to come on and found a candle or two or three lit those, yet the storm sounds permeated the kitchen area too making him feel very uneasy and as he had not mortared that room, the wind came blasting through (which made the relighting and repositioning of candles a real challenge, not to mention that splashes of rain came with the wind making for a rather damp Weasil).
Stupid is as stupid does and he flicked on the ghost app and the four corners of the kitchen flashed up but it was ghostless. Feeling better, the laddie took some cold mutton from the ice chest and some leftover wine and made himself 'a feel better repast'. After the second bite though, a pong sounded from his phone he left across the room. Weasil froze and debated as he sat not chewing, food getting soggy in his chops, whether he should cross the room and take a peek.
Usually, nothing frightens the Weasil as I said before, but this situation did for some reason. Curiosity getting the best of the laddie, he began slowly chewing and finding it hard to swallow from the lump in his throat, BUT the Weasil rose and walked unsteadily towards his mobile. He looked down and floating behind him was a rather large ghost. Was this THE ghost, the one that cut off ears, ate them and washed them down with his victim's blood? Holy ghosties Batman, but Weasil was outta there like he'd be launched off a missile pad. Candles left burning, sanny half eaten, wine on the table, wind and rain splashing in and no Weasil in sight.
Weasil told me later that the Google history on the castle placed the victims being relieved of their ears in the bedroom and the eater of the ears would wait to be served in what he and his friend were using as a kitchen. That explains a lot he said.
The next day when the owner arrived he found the wind had blown over the candlesticks, the rain put the fire out and mice had eaten the left food. He was perplexed as to what happened to the Weasil, and realising the Weasil's vehicle was not at the footpath entrance, that something must have spooked the Weasil for him to take flight and almost burn down the man's new abode.
Well, Weasil has yet to tell his friend the truth because he says he's embarrassed. That's a first in my book because as we know from experience nothing embarrasses that lad.
I asked him if he was going back there, he told me no way, Jose. That he'd rather be lashed to the main mast of Captain Jack's ship in a raging monsoon. Could it be that Weasil be really afraid of the spirit world? Who knew?
Gabe
Copyright © 2015 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
Weasel told me that recently a friend of his bought an old ruin of a castle in Scotland. The price was very little, and well it should be as 3/4 of the castle walls were nothing but rubble on the ground. However, in the half-standing tower I was told one could look over hills and dales and even a lough where the water rippled in the high winds of the Highlands -- and was as black as night. No not Loch Ness, but some other lough, loch, lake. If there be some sea serpent in that lough I have not heard, but it is ominous to look out at the black water, I understand, without getting a shiver up one's spine.
There is one wall and enclosure that is still standing I be told. And that if you got up on the half-open tower (where the breeze will blow you about with no mercy) and stand upon the crumbling stone stairs, it be like one is experiencing a hurricane! There be a doorway up there that had been shored up that the new owner broke open to find two rooms inside the wall still intact. Messy, full of bird droppings, leaves, broken stonework, and such, the laddie spent a week clearing it out. He got a friend and they used mortar to restore where they could and basically got the two rooms into some order.
One room was made into a makeshift kitchen (because they had to have their food) and the other a bedroom of sorts. Well, the black lough in the distance and the high winds had so unnerved the other fellow he decided he was going back to Glasgow, he was done. He told the new owner that he felt like he was being watched as he worked, and he felt like something dreadful would happen if he stayed. Besides which, was that as he worked, he had the distinct feeling his ears were being pulled but there was nothing there! The new owner felt none of this and told his friend he understood (which he did not) and this is how the Weas got the call to come take the helper's place.
As you know the Weas be an enthusiastic sort he is and it would be just up his alley to be on top of a ridge looking down at the minions below (of which there were none), a black lake would not be a bother and as you also know, nothing scares the Weasil. I will say many a time the Weasil has frightened the bejayus out of me, but that is neither here nor there.
It came to pass that for two weeks the two laboured on these two rooms and the owner moved in, without electricity, without a working water closet, without heat, without much at all but a lovely renaissance-style bed and a few family tapestries placed strategically on the old stone walls to shut out what wind they couldn't mortar out.
A large assortment of medieval candle holders were got from somewhere and so at night at least there was a blazing two rooms in the old ruin that could be seen from far far away. At night with the aid of so much light, the owner drew up his plans for renovation. He had to go into Inverness which was some distance south and so he asked Weasil if he would stay at the old place one night to make sure it was secure. Secure from what I have no idea.
But Weasil being a camper and adventurer as you well know, jumped at the opportunity to stay saving him the long drive from the closest village which was some kilometres away. Well, it ended up being a lonely day and into the night the Weas was looking forward to a rainy, windy night of howling winds, and rain lashing the shingled roof above (which he had just finished repairing that very day), and all was ripe for a good nights sleep! Yes, it was, or so he thought.
Well, all happened as Weasil thought it might, the wind howled, the rain lashed, and he slept fitfully until the devil's hour of 3:30 a.m. He was restless and no matter what he couldn't fall back to sleep. He lit one candle and got out his mobile phone, as remote as he was he did have some reception, spotty that it was, but enough he could read his email. When he was done he played a few games on his cell and then bored, he decided to download an app or two. Well, none would download and as he sat cursing, he thought he heard the "woo woo woo" sound that goes without saying that the Weasil was not alone but in the presence of a spirit!
For some unexplained reason, his ears tingled and felt hot. He thought he felt a tug on his left ear but wasn't sure it was some muscle spasm from how he was lying in the bed. I tell ya a muscle spasm in one's ear? Come on, really?
Weas was able to Google for a very short few minutes the history of the place he was lying in by candlelight.
Now legend said that the former occupant of said ruins was a mighty and bloodthirsty warrior knight of the William Wallace era who cut off men's ears and ate them for breakfast. He drank their blood because he thought it would give him more power and so the tale goes. Neither the new owner nor the Weas would normally be phased by such stories, but late at night, with wind and rain, sleep becoming elusive, and nothing much to do, one's mind might just start to conjure up the memory and that perhaps the stories were true?
What would someone like Weasil do in a case like this? Look at the ghost-busting apps to download to his mobile phone, that's what. And that is exactly what the laddie did. He found one app that after several others, downloaded with ease. Now that in itself might tell you spirit was guiding that one app for one ungodly purpose, but Weasil was not thinking, which is usually the case and so he was happy to have the download.
Thrilled to the nines the Weasil set up his new ghost proggie as he called it, and settled back in his cushy sheets and goose-down comforter to track the ghost. The app came with sound effects I might add and those did unnerve our Weasil to which he turned that off and let the ghost warning which was a pong sound be the only one besides that of the howling wind and rain outside to invade his delicate hearing.
He didn't have long to wait, for within a minute a PONG sounded and on the small phone screen there appeared a ghost floating across the screen and disappearing through the opposite wall. I would think that would raise the hairs on one's neck if the sound accompanied it. Now when you pointed your phone to the right the image on the screen of a square box room would zoom to the right and at first nothing. But when Weas zoomed to the left, BINGO, a loud PONG sounded and there coming out of the wall was a ghosty. Yes, and Weasil was thrilled. He tracked the image as it floated up to his ceiling and down to the left and then to the right, and as the rain and wind howled the Weasil's attention was rapt on the image, his eye lit up with satisfaction that yes there was a ghost in his room!
For about thirty minutes the Weasil was thus occupied until another pong sounded and a second ghost came into the room. Well, this was wonderful to be able to track not one but two ghosts and to speculate who the second might be? An earless victim of the first ghosty? He thought so until the third, and the fourth and the fifth ghosty drifted in and well the Weasil after ten minutes was surrounded by too many ghosts to count!
The novelty had worn way off as the wind and rain got stronger, the pong sounds more frequent and the Weasil was steadily losing his nerve and virb as the spiritual visitors increased. Another five minutes and the Weasil had enough, but instead of shutting the programme off, he went into the other room and closed the door. Fumbling with his phone he got the torch app to come on and found a candle or two or three lit those, yet the storm sounds permeated the kitchen area too making him feel very uneasy and as he had not mortared that room, the wind came blasting through (which made the relighting and repositioning of candles a real challenge, not to mention that splashes of rain came with the wind making for a rather damp Weasil).
Stupid is as stupid does and he flicked on the ghost app and the four corners of the kitchen flashed up but it was ghostless. Feeling better, the laddie took some cold mutton from the ice chest and some leftover wine and made himself 'a feel better repast'. After the second bite though, a pong sounded from his phone he left across the room. Weasil froze and debated as he sat not chewing, food getting soggy in his chops, whether he should cross the room and take a peek.
Usually, nothing frightens the Weasil as I said before, but this situation did for some reason. Curiosity getting the best of the laddie, he began slowly chewing and finding it hard to swallow from the lump in his throat, BUT the Weasil rose and walked unsteadily towards his mobile. He looked down and floating behind him was a rather large ghost. Was this THE ghost, the one that cut off ears, ate them and washed them down with his victim's blood? Holy ghosties Batman, but Weasil was outta there like he'd be launched off a missile pad. Candles left burning, sanny half eaten, wine on the table, wind and rain splashing in and no Weasil in sight.
Weasil told me later that the Google history on the castle placed the victims being relieved of their ears in the bedroom and the eater of the ears would wait to be served in what he and his friend were using as a kitchen. That explains a lot he said.
The next day when the owner arrived he found the wind had blown over the candlesticks, the rain put the fire out and mice had eaten the left food. He was perplexed as to what happened to the Weasil, and realising the Weasil's vehicle was not at the footpath entrance, that something must have spooked the Weasil for him to take flight and almost burn down the man's new abode.
Well, Weasil has yet to tell his friend the truth because he says he's embarrassed. That's a first in my book because as we know from experience nothing embarrasses that lad.
I asked him if he was going back there, he told me no way, Jose. That he'd rather be lashed to the main mast of Captain Jack's ship in a raging monsoon. Could it be that Weasil be really afraid of the spirit world? Who knew?
Gabe
Copyright © 2015 All rights reserved
9 comments:
he grew up in a castle and i'm sure it was haunted too! what a tool. i think he's pulling your leg on this one gabe.
I LOVE ghost stories!
It weren't no castle Fionnuler it were a manor housie.
Git yer facties straightie. Hee hee.
Ah to the manor born but what happened to the lordly spelling?
When I first heard about the latest Weasil adventure, I was not believing anyone in their right mind would pull up a ghost programme in a known haunted place. But then I remembered, Weasil has no right mind, so . . . figures.
LOL Wolf
He did? Would never know to listen to the swabby he had any education, mate.
Goodly thingee I haz a thick skinnie unlike da girlies in here hee hee
This man/boy has enough education for FIVE people!
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