[Nine Fragments bi Sandy Fleemin] (In Scots)

II

ack tae the chaumer it wis lichtit wi juist twathree caunles. I keekit at the reddicle lyin on the bed aside her leukin mair or less tuim, an jalouzed that wis whaur the caunles wis fae.

“I’m no ony great admirer o the electric licht,” qo she, an I settlt doun in the airmchaire wi the coffee, the lateness o the oor an the saftness o the caunlelicht makkin me gled o juist cannin sit an listen.

Ísabel startit bi sayin she haed aye likit vampires, an fae the wey she wis buskit I coud fair credit that. No sae creditable wis the fack that she sayed that whan she cam tae St Andraes an spied aa the gothic airchitectur aboot the place she haed some howp o meetin in wi a vampire, an aiblins even turnin vampire hersel. She wad awa stravaigin the Auld Toun aa oors o the nicht in howp o chancin intae ane. Whiles she wad seem tae can see what donnert she wis bein an wad start tae loss faith, but itherwhiles she’d seem tae can snowk the vera praisence o vampires in the lift, an she’d haud gaun.

“It wis ae winters nicht,” qo she, “a storm haed startit doun in the wee oors an I bieldit mysel in the door o John Menzies, juist staunin leukin up at the snawflauchts birlin sílent aboot the steeple o the Episcopâlian Kirk in the dark, whan I thocht I coud sense something flittin by abuin me, cauld as the snaw itsel.”

Syne Ísabel haed spied a man makkin for the cathedral doun Sooth Street, an gaed efter him throu the snaw. He wis buskit fremmit-like: some kin o braid hat an a lang dister coat that blew oot ahint him like a pair o muckle black wíngs. He vainished doun the Pends, an she startit efter him, an whan she cam roond the corner an gaed inablo the Pends hersel, what div ye think but that she …