Cauld, Cauld

[rabidsamfan]

Watson shared the story with me on the train ride north. A small boy punished in an unheated room, a small shivering ghost wandering Gilsland castle forever after, seeking out the victims of fever, laying spectral hands on them and chanting “Cauld, cauld, forever cauld, ye shall be cauld forever more.”

The person dies soon after that, Watson told me, diffidently, the Border country vowels of his childhood fading away again into the accent of public school and London university as he leaned back against the cushions and watched me from beneath his lashes.

A fairy tale, I scoffed, then, and one which cannot even find its footing. There is no Gilsland castle.

But there are castles near Gilsland, and we are in one of them, imprisoned by the blizzard which rages outside the ancient stone walls, unwilling guests of the very man I came north to investigate. My case is in ruins, yet I dare not add this place to my litany of failures. Watson is ill.

The fire on the hearth sheds light but what little heat there is in this dusty chamber comes from my friend. His head is tossing restlessly on his pillow; his voice is cracking as he calls my name, shouting over the thunder of a waterfall only he can hear. But I cannot turn to him. I cannot even turn to see whether his eyes are open, for my own eyes must stay upon the door. It is nearly time.

And when the small grey ghost drifts once more through the oaken panels, what shall I offer it beyond the frostburnt hands which will never again do better than fumble upon a violin’s strings? What shall I give up to keep the ghost another night away from taking my Watson’s life? What warmth have I left to sacrifice? My head and limbs are already half frozen from the ordinary cold, and my gut is cold with fear. What is left? My heart?

My heart.

So be it.

Comments

[mariole.livejournal.com]

> Watson is ill.

There is no more terrifying phrase for Sherlock to utter than this.

Wah! We know he has a heart-- and it is devoted to Watson. Poor bunnies. I hope the morrow is better. Great legend.

[rabidsamfan.livejournal.com]

Thank you. I've no idea how the morning will be. The bunnies are not cooperating...

[med_cat]

That was scary all right...

[rabidsamfan.livejournal.com]

Thank you. It kind of creeped me out even when I was writing it.

[ninjaboots.livejournal.com]

Oooh. That is legitimately scary, without crossing the line into silliness or over-the-top horror.

I think I'll cuddle up under the blankets now.

[rabidsamfan.livejournal.com]

Blankets would be good!

[lame-pegasus.livejournal.com]

Haunting.

Wow.

[rabidsamfan.livejournal.com]

*hugs* You say so much in so few words. Thanks!

[lame-pegasus.livejournal.com]

Says the woman who excels in the art of using a handful of words to create an entire universe of emotions. *hugs back*

[calccarbonate.livejournal.com]

Omigosh.
Please say you won't end it there. I'm really in dire need of a happy ending right now!

[rabidsamfan.livejournal.com]

Wish I could think of one! *hugs*

[dreamflower]

Oh! Oh my! This is sad, brilliant, and beautiful! *shiver*

[rabidsamfan.livejournal.com]

Thank you! *huddles into blanket*

[rubynye.livejournal.com]

*shivers and shivers*

[rabidsamfan.livejournal.com]

*offers you corner of my blanket*

[febobe.livejournal.com]

*dies*

This is SO great, and that little tale is an old favourite of mine from childhood...it appears in Whistle in the Graveyard: Folktales to Chill Your Bones...did you find it there too, or is there another source?

Delightful, dear, delightful. Thank you so kindly for sharing!

Joyfully,
Febobe :)

[rabidsamfan.livejournal.com]

I read it there first, but you can find it on the net here and there:

http://www.nightbringer.se/ghost_cold.html

http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Notes_on_the_folk-lore_of_the_northern_counties_of_England_and_the_borders/Chapter_7

(The second link is a time vacuum -- consider yourself warned!)

[elwenlj.livejournal.com]

Oh my giddy aunt!

You send shivers up my spine!

[rabidsamfan.livejournal.com]

Thank you! (I think... I hope you've recovered!)

[ancalime8301]

...meep!

[rabidsamfan.livejournal.com]

*pats onna head reassuringly*

[amedia.livejournal.com]

*meeping and gibbering in fear and nameless dread*

(to use an expression I stole from the Lovecraft Society)

This was *shivery*. Really, really well done!

[rabidsamfan.livejournal.com]

Thank you! Not in Lovecraft's class, but I'm glad you liked it.

[only-po.livejournal.com]

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! *melts into a puddle*

Ohhh, so tragic! and so beautiful! and so awful! *loves it*

[rabidsamfan.livejournal.com]

Thank you. It is kind of awful in one sense, but I really had to write it.

[elaby.livejournal.com]

Oh wow, that's fascinating. What a creative idea. And the atmosphere, wow!

[rabidsamfan.livejournal.com]

I can't take credit for the ghost -- he's been around a long time -- but I'm glad you like the story.

[jcporter1.livejournal.com]

fairy tale, I scoffed, then, and one which cannot even find its footing.

find it's footing. brilliant.

[rabidsamfan.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I'm glad you liked it.