Yes I know. I kind of fell off the face of the earth for a while. I've been busy, focusing more on school and attempting to have a... reasonable sleep cycle. Well that's out the window and finals are finishing this week.. so what better way of dealing with the stress than writing about a Homicidal Ghost Welshie....I mean Scott.
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It didn't take long for me to run out of campus to flee, without making too much of a scene, from the rightfully angered Scottsman. So focuses on my flight that I was I hadn't realized that I had fled into a dead end off near one of the less used buildings. With no where to run I turned to face the Scott.
"I'm certain we can talk this out...I didn't mean to insult I just wasn't sure if I was seeing things or not."
Thankfully this did not result in my body being run through with a claymore as the scottsman lowered it, though he still appeared rather angry with his furious red beard, tartan kilt and simple looking shirt.
"Yer' damn right you wern't seeing things ya damned english dog!"
"First off I'm not English. I'm american, second off I'm not damned.....at least I think I'm not...hard to tell sometimes."
"What was with the calling me a Welshie then?! Them's fighting words you know."
"Well... it got your attention didn't it."
"....er...yes..it did."
At this point I chose to risk being blunt with my questions, figuring I could probably dodge past him if I infuriated him once again and escape out into campus and possible get lost into the crowd as the next classes let out.
"You're aware that you're a ghost right?"
"...You can tell I'm a spirit?....Bless me beard you're the first one in decades!...well aside from the wee little children, but they grow out of it after a while. Growing up an'all...Lose their wonder an' belief."
"It was a guess after someone fell through you., that and now that I have a chance to see you without so many electronics nearby you have a different look than normal people...kinda translucent I guess would be the right words.....So.. who are you?"
"Hmmm....I can'ae just be giving out my story to jus' anyone. ....Meet me at the great oak at the center of the school with a bottle of scotch....Good scotch not the swill the brats at the south dorms have, and I'll maybe tell you who I am, where'n I been... things like that."
And with that he shouldered his claymore and walked off whistling a haunting tune as he walked directly through the school building's wall to vanish, which I later realized was simply a horrible butchering of the tune of "the Rare Ould times" by Flogging molly. It seemed I had found a spirit of some kind, but his authenticity was questionable.
