A Week Word Ghost Story

Katy picked the Week Word this week.  And this one had me scrambling to the dictionary.

Eldritch - unearthly, alien, supernatural, weird, spooky, eerie

To be honest, I'm still not quite certain how to use this word in a sentence, so I thought I'd tell you a ghost story.  But unlike some ghostly tales, this one is true.

A few years ago, Chad and I traveled to Scotland.  While there, we joined several walking tours, but one in particular sticks in my mind.

Let me preface by saying that Chad is an "unbeliever", a skeptic.  If it can't be felt, touched, explained, proven, he thinks it balderdash.  I, on the other hand, believe that "there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

This makes us the perfect pair to take a haunted underground tour of Edinburgh.

Having been on quite a few haunted tours before - they're Chad's favorites - I was prepared for tales of the dark side of the city, creepy walks through a cemetery or two and finishing deep in the vaults below Edinburgh. On the previous tours, I found the stories fascinating and the history thrilling.  I wasn't fond of the few moments of fear or sadness that sank deep into my bones while visiting haunting sites of ancient battles.

And I wasn't fond of my husband laughing off my unease.

After paying for our tickets and touring above ground, we began the main event...

I was not prepared for the cold chill that crept into our bones the moment we stepped into what I later discovered was the most haunted site in the UK. The tour guide's stories of life in the vaults, echoed in the still, damp air.  Stories of plague and poverty, crime and hate.  Stories of the dark underbelly of Edinburgh life.

Chad said the chill was because we were, in essence, in a cellar.

I could feel the negative energy emanating from the stone walls of the cavern as we walked by the light of a flickering lantern. In one particular vault, I took pictures as the guide spoke of the malevolent spirit that is said to haunt the room.  The icy fingers of evil crept down my spine. A trickle of apprehension raised the hairs on the back of my neck.  I felt like someone was watching me.

Chad said it was because he was following me.

I couldn't wait to get above ground.  Shaking off my unease, we ended the night with a glass of Scotch and a quiet walk back to our room.  When we returned from our trip, I developed the pictures.  Every picture I took on the tour showed nondescript vault walls, over-exposed by my flash. 

Except one.

Chad said I must have moved the camera.

I say there was something else in that vault.

What do you think?