Horror Stories from Horrified - Volume One (2)

The fur ther -away half ser ved as a studio and was a contr ast in its disor der liness.
Its floor was haphazar dly cover ed w ith paint-splatter ed sheets of black plastic and
along its side r an a w or ktable litter ed w ith br ushes, pencils, knives, tins and tubes.
Mounted on easels w er e sever al canvases bear ing w or ks-in-pr ogr ess that, so far at
least, didn?t seem to r esemble anything.
Though the flatscr een?s volume had been tur ned dow n, it was show ing live
cover age of Edinbur gh?s inter nationally famous New Year str eet par ty. A sea of
r eveller s filled Pr incess Str eet w hile fir ew or ks blossomed in the sky above them.
Then the camer a zoomed in on some stationar y fir ew or ks, ar r anged on the
r ock-face below Edinbur gh Castle and for ming four giant, w hite-bur ning digits:
?2013?.
Lachie felt a momentar y puzzlement. 2013? Was that cor r ect?
Tw o tumbler s, a jug of water , an almost-empty bottle of Glentur r et w hisky and a
cr ammed ashtr ay occupied the living-space table. The ashtr ay, Lachie thought,
explained w hy the air in the r oom was smoky and smelt slightly acr id. One tumbler
lay on its side and a lar ge, painfully wasteful-looking puddle of w hisky extended
fr om its r im.
Keen to get this fir st-footing visit over w ith as soon as possible, Lachie w ent to the
table, lifted the toppled tumbler , pour ed in some of his Islay w hisky and held it
towar ds the w oman. ?Anyway, take this,? he said. ?Happy New Year to ye! Happy
tw o-thousand-and? and? w hatever it is!?
But the w oman kept backing away fr om them, into the studio end of the r oom.
Lachie tr ied to make the best of the situation. ?Och, w ell. If ye think ye?ve had
enough alr eady, I?ll toast the New Year for ye. Slainte Mhath!? And he took a slur p of
his ow n w hisky.
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