Whispers of Serpent's Manor

The Hitchhiking Ghost of Grimloch

Hours later, as they descended a hill on the rugged outskirts of the Scottish Highlands, the distant town of Grimloch slowly emerged on the horizon. An eerie silence settled over the car, the only sound being the faint hum of the engine. The sight of Grimloch took their breaths away; it was like stepping into a painting, with the soft hues of twilight casting a mesmerising glow over everything.

Nestled between the imposing mountains and the restless waters of Loch Morar, Grimloch exuded an air of mystery. Ancient ruins, their weathered stones whispering secrets of the past, stood as witnesses to a history steeped in folklore. The cobblestone streets, worn by time, seemed to echo with the tales of bygone eras as the car navigated through the town. The townsfolk, dressed in their Sunday best, moved with purpose towards the towering ancient church, casting long shadows over the town.

Coby stopped at a quaint petrol station with a small convenience store and public toilets. While Ewan eagerly leaped out of the car and dashed towards the bathrooms, Coby leisurely entered the convenience store. Inside, a rotund cashier with fiery red hair, and a face speckled with freckles watched him intently. Her eyes glowed with curiosity, like embers in a fire.

He purchased two cans of Irn-Bru for Ewan, and a two steaming cups of coffee for himself and Gracie, the rich aroma enveloping his senses.

“Where you headed?” the cashier asked, her heavy Scots accent and remnants of ancient Gaelic in her voice giving her words a unique charm.

Coby smoothly slid two crisp banknotes across the counter. “We’re visiting the Serpent’s Manor,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

The cashier flinched, her eyes widening in shock, her fingers eagerly curling around the notes.

“Better watch yourselves,” she warned, her voice filled with a mix of caution and intrigue. “No one comes out of there alive.” Her gaze darted around, searching for prying eyes, and she leaned in close, her words a whispered secret. “There are rumours, you see,” she continued, her voice barely audible, “about wee children locked away in the cellar.”

Coby chuckled lightly, shrugged, gathered his change, and walked out, the door chiming softly behind him, leaving the redheaded cashier and her unsettling words behind.

“Watch out for that hitchhiker!” the cashier called out, her voice echoing through the empty streets. The familiar citrusy scent of Irn-Bru filled the damp air as Ewan cracked open the cans, the fizzy pop sound echoing in the car. He eagerly gulped down the refreshing drink. Gracie and Coby exchanged a knowing glance, their eyes reflecting a mix of excitement and nervousness as they left the town of Grimloch behind.

The flickering streetlamps faded into the distance, their hazy glow resembling a mirage in the night. Suddenly, dark clouds rolled in, bringing with them a relentless downpour. The raindrops pounded on the car’s roof, creating a thunderous drumbeat that filled the air. With the whirring wipers at full speed, Coby leaned forward, squinting through the rain-splattered windshield, his vision obscured.

Without warning, a young woman dressed in a flowing white gown appeared on the road directly in front of him. Coby’s reflexes kicked in as he slammed on the brake pedal, feeling the car skid and teeter on the edge of the steep embarkment.

Gracie’s piercing shriek pierced his ears, while Ewan was thrown into the backseat, his spilled Irn-Bru, creating a sticky mess on the dashboard. “Pay attention!” Gracie scolded, frustration clear in his voice. Coby’s eyes darted around, desperately searching for any sign of the woman he had almost collided with.

“I nearly hit her,” he whispered, venturing out into the unforgiving downpour.

“Who?” Gracie protested, but he ignored her, his eyes scanning the surroundings. No sign of the hitchhiking woman. He quickly glanced under the car and noticed a large truck approaching at alarming speed. Urgency fuelled his every step as he jumped back into the car and sped off, the blaring horn of the truck protesting as it passed by, splashing muddy water all over the car. Coby drove cautiously, his brow furrowed in deep thought.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Gracie commented, her hand providing support as it rested on his trembling leg. “What’s the matter?”

Coby took a deep breath, trying to steady his pounding heart as he glanced in the rearview mirror. “I witnessed… that woman was thumbing for a lift!” he exclaimed, his voice rising above the loud downpour. “All she had on was a delicate gown.”

“God help us,” Gracie sighed, resignation clear in her voice. “Here we go again.”

“Dad!” Ewan exclaimed, his voice sharp and sudden, causing Coby to startle, his heart skipping a beat. The young boy’s face, illuminated by the glow of his phone screen, was transfixed, his emerald green eyes mesmerised by the captivating article. The unyielding rain bombarded the car.

Ewan’s tone was filled with excitement, his words tumbling out in a rush. “Check this out,” he urged, his voice eager, almost breathless. “I found this article about a young woman. The locals call her the hitchhiking ghost of Grimloch.” Coby met Ewan’s gaze in the rearview mirror, his eyes wide with anticipation.

Ewan continued, “According to this, she got married in the magnificent town church on a gloomy, rainy day. After their wedding, they embarked on their honeymoon, but unfortunately, tragedy struck right outside the town. While her husband survived, she tragically lost her life.”

Coby, his senses heightened, instinctively slowed down the car, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he listened intently to every word. “Is there a name she goes by?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, the sound of raindrops against the roof filling the silence.

“Um,” Ewan said, furrowing his brow, his eyes scanning the screen for answers. The scent of rain and damp earth wafted through the car, mingling with the faint aroma of coffee. “It says here her name was… Im… um, Ima…”

“Imogen?” Gracie interjected, her voice soft and warm, breaking through the quiet ambiance.

“Yes!” Ewan exclaimed, his face lighting up with recognition. “Imogen Gra… Grant, nee, Cray… Cray…” he stumbled over the unfamiliar name, his frustration clear.

“Creighton?” Gracie offered, her voice gentle and melodic, like a lullaby in the rain.

“Yes, Imogen Creighton!” Ewan exclaimed, his confusion giving way to curiosity. “But what the heck does nee mean?” His brow knitted together, his mind grappling with the puzzle.

“Nee means that Grant was her maiden name before she became Creighton when she got married,” Gracie explained, her words flowing like a soothing breeze, bringing clarity to the mystery.

Coby’s lips curled into a knowing smile, his eyes reflecting a mixture of intrigue and understanding, while Ewan’s face transformed into a mask of dumbfounded awe, his mind spinning with the weight of the tale.