Shadows of the Cailleach

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I stepped off the train at Waverley Station. The Edinburgh air, cold and damp, wrapped around me like a shroud. Twenty years had passed since I left. But the sights, sounds of my hometown stirred a mix of emotions. The castle loomed large. The Royal Mile’s winding streets called out. Distant bagpipes echoed, bringing memories I thought I'd forgotten.

The taxi ride to the Royal Mile blurred by. My thoughts drifted to Granny Mairi, who had passed away. And to the flat I inherited. The complications of our past flooded my mind. Especially our last heated argument.

The taxi stopped in front of the old tenement. I paid the driver, stepped out onto the cobblestone street, stared up at the flat. A chill ran down my spine. This was it—my new home, my new start.

I unlocked the door, revealing a musty hallway. The air inside was heavy with secrets. I started exploring, each room a time capsule. Granny’s old furniture, dusty trinkets, faded photographs lined the walls. Every step echoed through the silence.

In the bedroom, I found an old cassette player. Tapes were labeled "Eilidh." My name. My voice. The dates—childhood years I barely remembered—puzzled me. Curiosity took over. I played a tape. My voice filled the room.

"I'm walking through the Meadows, watching the swans. Granny’s holding my hand..."

But I had no memory of this. A cold shiver ran through me. Who recorded this? And why?

The tape warped, distorting my voice. I quickly stopped it, unease settling in.

Night fell. Edinburgh's shadows grew more ominous. I tried to shake the feeling of being watched, attributing it to exhaustion. But the tapes lingered, whispers of a past I couldn’t recall.

I slept restlessly, haunted by the sound of my own voice.

I woke to the sound of rain against the window. The gray sky mirrored my mood. The tapes still haunted me, fueling my unease. After breakfast, I searched the flat for answers. Granny’s old desk caught my eye. Amidst dusty papers, I found her diary with strange entries: "the Cailleach," "Edinburgh’s shadows," and "protecting you." Clippings from the newspaper detailed disappearances and strange events. A note read, "Eilidh, forgive me. I protected you. Now it’s your turn."

At the Royal Edinburgh Hospital, Dr. Hamish Douglas briefed me on my new patients. Mrs. MacKenzie spoke of eerie whispers at home. Mr. Jenkins described shadowy figures outside. Their stories chilled me. Were they delusions, or something darker?

That evening, I wandered the Royal Mile, lost in thought. The ancient buildings seemed to whisper secrets. I stumbled upon “The Cailleach’s Whisper,” an occult bookstore. The owner recognized me, his eyes glinting. A symbol on the wall matched something from Granny’s diary.

Fear crept in. What had Granny hidden? What had she protected me from?

Back at the flat, I found another tape labeled "Eilidh, age 10." And a message scrawled on the mirror: "Remember, Eilidh." My heart raced as I pressed play.

The tape hissed, followed by my childhood voice, speaking of impossible events. "I’m walking through Edinburgh Castle, but the stones are melting... Granny’s voice echoes." A chill ran through me. These weren’t memories—these were nightmares, or fantasies.

I stopped the tape, my mind spinning. The room felt off. I stared at the mirror's message: "Remember, Eilidh." What was I supposed to remember? The truth? Or a lie?

Visions overwhelmed me: dark alleys, flickering candles, Granny’s whispered incantations. Reality blurred. I stumbled through the flat, desperate for clarity. The tapes, the diary, the occult symbols—they all swirled together.

At the hospital, my patients’ stories merged with fading memories. Mrs. MacKenzie’s whispers became Granny’s voice. Mr. Jenkins’ shadows morphed into dark figures. Dr. Douglas stepped in, concern clouding his face. "Eilidh, you’re reliving the past. Let me help."

I pushed him away. "I’m fine. Just stressed." But I wasn’t fine. Edinburgh’s shadows were closing in. The Cailleach’s presence loomed.

That night, I stood in the Meadows, surrounded by swans with glowing eyes. Cassette tapes scattered around me. I screamed, shattering the illusion. PC Angus MacDonald arrived, grim-faced. "Eilidh, we found evidence. Your grandmother’s involvement in the occult... the disappearances... it’s all connected."

I stared, numb. "What have I inherited?" Darkness closed in. Now, confined to a psychiatric ward, I cling to the fraying threads of sanity. The tapes echo in my mind. Granny’s whispers haunt me. Edinburgh’s shadows have become my reality.

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