A Book Week Scotland Story by Jan Bee Brown.
The tunnel through Prospect Hill is haunted of course, this we know because digging a canal is a dangerous game. But hacking a tunnel through solid rock so that a rich man’s view isn’t spoiled – well no wonder the ghosts of dead workmen linger longer here in the longest canal tunnel in Scotland.
Aye but Old Copper Bottom – didn’t get to enjoy his perfect view for long, no Sir William Forbes was a haunted man and they buried him barely a year after the last pickaxe was put down… perhaps his ghost haunts the tunnel too…perhaps the ghosts of the murderers Burke and Hare join Sir William to admire their craftsmanship?
‘Possessions are mortal and all things pass us by’
The words hang over Copper Bottom’s mausoleum, his grave in Callendar Park, the words are quite correct… you may be a billionaire Billy but you cannae’ take it with you.
But if you walk the length of the tunnel watch out! Not only for the ghosts that walk the narrow footpath beside you – no, you need to keep watch on the canal that runs so quietly by your feet…watch out for the bubbles, a large eye rising to the surface and do not… I say again do not look back, keep walking for the beast that lies beneath the water is watching you, waiting for you and longing for you to join it beneath the surface for an adventure.
I say beast, but there are many beasts that haunt the canals of Falkirk…for under the water is where the Kelpies play with the ghosts of dead horses. The ghosts of famous horses graze on the weed, but the Kelpies feast on the remains of curious children, drunks tottering home from the pub, oh and a fair few librarians who like to jog along the towpath.
This is the story of one of them…
It was dark by the time Vikki got home, but she was keen to keep up her step count – the challenge was on at work and she couldn’t let them down. She shrugged off her lanyard and fed the cat, then slipped into her jogging bottoms and trainers. Coat, hat gloves, mobile, waterproof pouch in case of rain, ear-buds, she was ready. She locked the house and put her house key under the third plant pot from the door.
The canal stretched like a black vein as far as the eye could see, the path was slippery the trees were bare now, skeletal and autumn leaves floated on the surface of the canal. I’ll need to be careful not to fall in she thought. Then an owl hooted in the trees and a shiver ran down the back of her spine. She scrolled down to her favourite play-list and smiled as the keyboard riff of Crazy Horses squealed in her ears and she started to run – wow 1972 that really was a blast from the past!
The playlist of golden oldies had been a present from her son for a big birthday and as she ran, as she listened she travelled back in time in her mind.
When she reached the entrance to the tunnel she stopped to catch her breath. It was well lit these days and the LED lights changed colour – it reminded her of going to the Disco when she was a teenager. As she looked through the tunnel she could make out the silhouette of another jogger coming towards her so she waited… but the jogger stopped half way along the tunnel and they turned, leaned their back against the wall and bent over as if they could not breathe. She could hear their breath panting rasping echoing down the water towards her. The tunnel amplified the sound, perhaps they were ill, and perhaps they needed help?
Being the library first-aider Vikki decided to run to help the stranger, but as she got closer she realised that the man was not dressed in jogging gear. In fact he wore a large Stetson hat. His coat was covered in coloured beads and a line of soft leather fringing fell from the seams of his long arms. He looked up and Vikki thought that she had never seen such a handsome man in her life. He looked into her eyes and she was transfixed…
“Have you seen my horse?” he asked
“No… what kind of horse do you have?” Vikki wondered if he was joking.
Suddenly there was a bubbling noise behind her, in the canal, he stood up and his eyes grew larger, his face white with fear she turned her back to him to follow his gaze and there it was…a large eye ball watching them, it didn’t blink then a great nostril appeared and snorted then out of the depths the face of a great horse arose and bared its yellow teeth and let out a terrible scream…
As Vikki turned to run she realised she was trapped by the pair of long arms as the man leant over the railing of the towpath to look into the water, then he jumped onto the railing as if to leap into the cold canal.
“Stop! Don’t do it!” she cried and grabbed at him to save him from the icy water, but as her hand touched his boot she realised she was stuck to him. Her hand was locked tight to the boot, but then it started to slip from his foot and starting to fall, Vikki clutched at the tail of his jacket to steady herself only to realise that she was now stuck to his jacket – as if with superglue – then before her eyes he shape-shifted and reared up on two powerful hind legs, jumped the railing and Vikki found herself sitting on a leather saddle on the back of a horse disappearing into the black waters below…she clung to its long black mane as the weed rushed passed her.
Down, down, deeper and down they sped and the playlist in Vikki’s ear suddenly changed to drumming soft rhythmic drumming – a hundred drums pulsing, feet stamping and chanting in a language Vikki had never heard before.
Soon she saw the lock gates ahead and as they loomed above them the horse took a giant leap and cleared them and Vikki soared over them on the horses back taking a great gasp of air before they dived back into the canal. She held her breath as long as she could, but when she could no longer hold it in she panicked realising that she would drown. She opened her mouth to scream, but as she did so she realised that, on the back of this magic horse, sitting in this leather saddle, she could breathe under water.
On they sped through the water and the sound of the drumming in her ears got louder and faster she closed her eyes and then suddenly the horse came to a stop and Vikki felt fresh air in her lungs and the ground beneath her feet. She opened her eyes and realised she was standing next to the tall stranger and her hand felt warm and safe in his hand.
It was raining and the grass beneath her feet was muddy she realised that she was still stuck to him, but she didn’t mind because he had brought her to what looked like a circus. A Grandstand lay before her in the shape of a giant horseshoe and the place was packed with thousands of folk, men in top hats who looked like they had been to a wedding, women were holding their long skirts above the muddy ground and children in tweed jackets and floppy caps sheltered under big black umbrellas.
The drumming was louder now in Vikki’s ears, the stranger pulled her arm and led her through the crowd to a circle of Tee-pee tents and there in the rain she watched the drummers leading the dancers in a circle. As they stamped in time to the beat the feathers in their headdresses bounced and swayed, Vikki had seen costumes like these in films before but never seen a tribal dance like this. She was pushed forward and she and the stranger joined in stamping and chanting round and around in circles.
As they danced the rain stopped and the sun came out and a great rainbow arched over the whole circus. They made their way to their seats as a brass band played a tune. Then the crowd went quiet and a single bugle call sounded: ’Boots and Saddles’.
Then out they rode, hundreds and hundreds of cowboys on the most magnificent horses and at their head was a man on a white horse, he had long white hair and his beard was pointed. He stopped in the centre of the arena and took off his hat. His horse reared up and then a shot rang out and a Stagecoach sped into the arena pulled by horses followed by the tribe she had seen dancing earlier now on horseback, whooping and screaming, holding bows and arrows.
A posse of cowboys rode in and chased the tribe and the crowd went wild… next up a cow girl dressed in red, with a long rifle, wowed the crowd with her skill, shooting at targets thrown into the air as she galloped around the arena. The stranger was starting to fidget beside her, he still held her hand and it was starting to annoy Vikki now because she wanted to clap. He pulled her up and out of her seat and she had to apologise to the other folk as they passed along the row of seats. At the end of the row a woman refused to budge, she was wearing a tight high-necked jacket and a soft velvet hat in the centre of which was a strange brooch.
She caught Vikki’s free hand and slid a small smooth item in her palm closing Vikki’s fingers around it: then bent down and whispered:
“You’ll be needing this my dear!”
Vikki thought she recognised the woman’s face from the library Knit and Natter group and smiled, but couldn’t stop to ask her to explain because she was being dragged out and back along the canal.
“Stop! Vikki cried and twisted round to look back at the tented structure – a painted sign that arched over the entrance to the arena read
“Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show”
“What year is it?” Vikki wondered aloud. But a volley of shots rang out and she heard the roar of applause from the crowd. Then the stranger shape-shifted and she found herself back on the wild horse and as they leapt off the towpath and into the canal she felt waterweed tickle her face once more.
With one hand stuck to the mane Vikki realised she still had the woman’s gift clutched in her other hand, whatever it was it felt cold in her hand. It was a small tube pointed at one end, Vikki wasn’t sure what it was, a lipstick? A bullet? But what use was a bullet without a gun she thought then she looked down and saw there was a leather pocket, a saddlebag hanging by her knee. Putting the bullet between her teeth she reached under the leather flap and felt inside. There was a gun, a pistol. She pulled it out, held it by the hilt and clicked open the barrel with her thumb just like she had seen in the movies. Biting the bullet she pushed the pointed silver tube into one of the empty holes and clicked the barrel of the gun back into position as her finger found the trigger.
“Can a vegetarian shoot a horse? Can you even shoot a gun under water? The librarian in her wondered, but then the horse reared and with head above water Vikki saw the entrance to the tunnel. In they went but she held the pistol above her head and squeezed the trigger – a shot in the dark – a cry for help – SOS! The bullet hissed through the air and ricocheted off the walls of the tunnel and suddenly Vikki was back on the towpath, she swung round just in time to see a burst of bubbles and one large eye, it blinked as it disappeared below the surface.
The gun was still in her hand she examined it – its grip was cream and cold to the touch, ornate patterns scrolled across the cylinder, the trigger was gold. Vikki shivered and threw the pistol into the canal in disgust.
She ran back home and had a long hot bath.
The next day she was in the Library early looking up Buffalo B – Buffalo Bill – William F Cody, he had come to Falkirk in 1904. Then she found a book on Scottish Myths and legends – stories of shape-shifters and it fell open on a page about Kelpies – ‘How to kill a Kelpie’ – like a Vampire, a Kelpie can only be killed with a silver bullet.
She settled down in the staff room with her books and had a celebratory biscuit with her cup of tea – well why not? Her team had won the step count challenge that week and with all that dancing the night before Vikki had the best score.