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Help Pal, Grannies House is Haunted!!!

Ghost The Last Ghostbuster

Colin McCann had been pestering me for around two years to go up to his grandmothers house in Aberdeen, Scotland. “You’ve got to see the old place” he’d bark down the phone with the force of a Scottish gale “You’re the last Ghostbuster for god sake, it’s your duty Pal”.

It seemed like a long time ago since I had first called my self ‘The Last Ghostbuster’ whilst frantically running, as a skinny mud spattered child through some pitch black haunted woods with a group of other friends, being chased by something Evil. Growing up in Northern England was fun, there were lots of old houses and spooky places to go, but here I was again having to pack my things and head up to another haunted house on the hill, and in Scotland of all places, I’d met my fair share of scary beings in that neck of the woods. If I am truthfully honest, deep down inside, that skinny child who’d never left my body, was itching to get up there and see what it was that Colin McCann had been bangin on about. I often told my self that I wasn’t doing this for me, I was doing it for my readers, they had come to rely on me and I couldn’t let them down. What they and other people didn’t seem to grasp is that I am only human, I have feeling too, and some times, I would be, for want of a better phrase, bricking it (Northern slang for, well, look it up guys).

As the train rattled across the brown and green fields of the Anglo – Scottish Border, off into the mountains I spent most of my time peering out of the window or into my bag for items of food I’d thrown into my rucksack earlier on that day, the rest of the time I spent reading. I’d had this book for a while and not really had time to read it Crap Towns: The 50 Worst Places To Live In The UK. Once I’d opened it I couldn’t put it down, and it had me chuckling uncontrollably to my self, to the astonished gaze of my fellow passengers. If you had lived in one the so called Crap Towns described in the book you wouldn’t be a happy bunny to see your home town being torn apart in print.

By the time the train rolled into Aberdeen train station it was almost 5 pm. It was mid October, it was already dark and drizzle was trickling down the window of the train. I picked up my belongings and was heading down the narrow carriage towards the exit, when I hear a loud rapping sound on the window behind me. When I turned around, there was Colin, his piercing blue eyes glaring through the window and a beaming big smile spread across his face. He sported a Scottish hat on the top of his head, you know the type I am talking about the  Lambswool Scottish Tartan Classic Tammy Hat with bobble on. As I stepped off the train he was hugging me and picking me up, he was almost twice my size. After he had spun me around a couple of times he placed me back down, and then a serious look came over his freckled face. “Grannies house Pal, thanks for coming to have a look at it, there is some scary stuff going on.” I asked him if his grandmother would mind me staying and his reply sent shivers up my spine. “Grannie moved out about a year ago, she won’t go anywhere near the old place, you’ll be staying there on your own, am off away working on the oil rigs tonight pal.”

So here I was in the pissing down rain, middle of October in Scotland, ready to go and stay in another haunted house on my own….. again. Colin look quizzically at my face whilst cocking his head to one side.

“Hey pal, your going to get one hell of a story out of this, you know that don’t you? You can throw it into one of those books of yours.” Colin blurted out, which I must say comforted me a great deal.

“Look Colin, I can only stay for one night, if I am going to be on my own that is.” I told him. “Believe me Pal, you’ll be lucky to stay for one night.” he replied with an awkward smile.

We wandered off out of the train station and around to Guild St, where we stopped abruptly by an old Seaman’s Lodge.

“are we going in to grab a bite to eat?” I asked Colin.
“Oh no Pal, this is where Duggie is picking you up.”
“Who the hell is Duggie?” I demanded.
“He’s a close friend of the family, one of the only people who knows the way to Grannies house.”
“How far is this place then Colin?”
“It’s Fourteen miles inland, and a bit of a climb.”
“What’s the name of the Town?”
“It ain’t in a Town Pal, it’s well …. erm…  out on it’s own.”
Too be continued……………………………….

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