Night of the Spirits
by sloanranger
Part 12
"Open up in there, Angus!"
He was about to cry when it came to him that it was Miz' Crayton's voice.
He didn't want to talk to her but he was so grateful it wasn't Jeb and so in need of another human being's companionship, he rushed to open the wooden door.
"Miz Crayton, It's awful out there. What are ye doing up this late out there in this storm."
"You fool. I'm trying to save your soul, much good it'll do me. I seen you sneak out and right back in again, just like before."
The Scot made no pretense this time. "Oh, Miz Cray, you got to help me. I tried, I promise you, I tried."
"Angus Toper, you know what it is to scoff at a man's last wishes, especially when it's something in your power to do? T'ain't right, Angus; not right a'tall."
"Oh Missus Cray' I meant to but there's something out there trying to get me."
"Ain't nothing trying to get you but your own conscious, Angus Toper."
"No, 'am. T'was a ghost or some wild thing."
"You're nothing but a tosspot, you drunken fool and I should've known better than t'ask you for any help. But 't'isn't me you'll have to answer to."
"Oh, Miz' Crayton, I tried, I really tried. I'll get him tomorrow when it's daylight... the storm'll likely be over then."
(To be continued).
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Night of the Spirits - @Short Story
Short Story@SHORTSTORY - Historical Fiction, Horror: Dying man Jeb Crayton, asks his friend Angus, an old Scot who likes his liquor to help his widow after he's gone. Days later, Angus is asked to bury Jeb's dog, Joe. It becomes a horrific task.
