The mist of darkness began to descend over the field of battle. The moor was strewn with the bodies of the fallen highlanders. It had not gone well for them, and now the forces of the English were continuing their bloody gluttony. Among the fallen was Angus P. McDonald of the Clan Donald. He was the piper last to fall, and was laying in a bloody pool of agony, from a cannon ball that had ripped away his lower abdomen and half of his insides. He was young, merely 22, and his mind raced with thoughts of his home and loved ones. Raising up on one elbow, the agony was intense, but he had to see what was happening. His eyes took in the horror. His friends and clan members were being butchered one by one, by the blood crazed English soldiers.
The anger began to well up within him, and in defiance he lashed out against the unfeeling God that had abandoned him. "Ach, I am agin thee, and shall nae be bound by thee", he screamed. "I'll no gie in tae the likes o' these, I will hae my revenge, and no force shall stay my hand". As he breathed out his last vengeful words, he heard the last sound, that of a discharging rifle, and all went black as coal. The battle was over, but not the war.
Shamus and Liam often played down on the moor, but never this late in the evening. The sun was waning deep in the sky and night was falling. It had been over two hundred and sixty two years now, since the famed Battle of Culloden, and the moor was a graveyard. No one ever came here in the late hours, because of the legend, but the two boys were young, and full of the bravado that so often accompanies such an age. Though the signs clearly stated that they were not to stray from the paved path, they could not help pretending they were participants in the fateful battle, enacted so long ago. "Hey, I had you", exclaimed Shamus. "You can't dodge a rifle bullet". "Can so, and I even blocked it with ma trusty Claymore", retorted Liam. Just then both boys heard the faint sound of hard soles scuffling along a cement path. It was fairly dark, and they could not make out from whence the sound was coming, but they both decided that perhaps it was time to call it a night, and head home. After all, there was the Legend, and even though they did not really believe it, it was getting a little creepy.
A neat path ran around the gravestones that marked the fallen highlanders, and which indicated the Clan to which they belonged. It was April 16th, and it was the anniversary eve of that fateful night so long ago. According to many of the old timers, the Legend was as true as life itself. It spoke of a cursed soul that had so offended God, that he was doomed to walk the land, and live the life of the undead. They claimed, that this soul would haunt the hills and moors around Inverness, and take his unholy revenge upon any and all he would find, that dared to be out on his moor. Indeed, there had been many unexplained disappearances over the years, but most of the residents thought nothing of the legend, and dismissed it as an old man's superstition.
So it was with Shamus and Liam. These two lads of 13 were not to worried about legends, but the thought of getting caught by the security of the Moor did put the fear in to them. They slowly and quietly made their way back to the path, and began their way home, when they heard a sound that made their hearts jump. It sounded like the faint tones of the bagpipes. "Did ya hear that, Liam?", Shamus asked. "Aye, I did. Maybe it is just a piper out for a wee blaw on his pipes", responded Liam. As they strained their eyes to see the source of the sound, it began to grow louder, as though a piper was walking toward them. Fear gripped them, and their feat were glued in place. "I kinae move", exclaimed Liam. "We have tae git oot a here, fast", countered Shamus. And so they both turned to run.
As they did, the ran into a figure tall and dark. They both toppled to the ground from the impact, and struggled to gain some position from which they could see. As they looked up, there was a tall dark menacing figure in front of them, They let out a mild shriek, and clung to each other. "What hae we here?", boomed a deep voice. It was the night security guard, his flashlight illuminated both of the boys. "Yu stupid brats, what ye deen hea so late. I aught tae flog ya both. Now git frae here, afore I kick both ya arses!", he spit out menacingly. The boys stumbled back and gained their feet. Fear had taken over and all they could do was gape with open mouths. They were about tae leave, when a shadow appeared behind the night guard. "For clan and Kin!", hissed the shadow, and a huge claymore came crashing down on the night guard. The apparition's blade caught the unsuspecting guard at his left collar bone, and cleaved his torso virtually in two. Blood gushed from the gaping wound, and a low gurgling sound emitted from the surprised guard's throat. He fell to his knees and then to his face in a ever growing pool of blood. Behind him the boys could make out the form of the Ghostly Piper. His hideous visage was draped with a tattered clan tartan, and his chest was bare, with half of the abdomen gaping wide, revealing the landscape behind him. His face was rotting flesh and decaying bone. His eyes, were gone, and his empty sockets glowed red as fire. Raising his claymore high, he hissed, "My vow I've kept, and ye are no more".
Shamus and Liam, quivered with fear and waited for what appeared to be their turn. The banshee slowly lowered the Claymore, and returned it to the sheath strapped to it's back. With a ghoulish sigh, he raised the blowpipe to his lips, and hissed a vile green vapor into the gnarled old pipes that he had positioned on his shoulder. The bag filled, and sound began to hiss forth from the rotted old drones. Slowly the ghoulish piper turned and vanished into the night, while the eerie strains of an old Pìobaireachd melody followed after.
While Shamus and Liam swore it was the truth, their parents just scolded them for their disobedience, and sent them to their beds. The papers reported that a security guard had been found dead, the vicim of a brutal hit and run accident. No investigation was ever conducted, and the case was closed. But what happened that night was known to two, and to this day, the pipes can still be heard, late at night, but who dares to enter the moor? None there be, and the piper plays on.
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