There was a strange, inexplicable and completely unfathomable draw to the place that had seen them witness abject terror like no other place had or could ever instils within their very souls. They had been filled with fear, scared senseless to to their very bone; that night, three years to the very night and almost to the second as they stood at the foot of the close and looked on in disbelief. That night, replayed over and over again in their heads, so real, so vivid they could almost reach out and touch it.

They could smell the damp and feel the centuries old toil, the sweat, the tears and they had seen the blood. Running for their very lives as they took to the old iron gate, pulled it wide open in what seemed like hours of passage though in reality was no more than two or three seconds. They had taken to those steps and stood there, looking back up, the light from the old lamp serving to glisten over the blade he carried that night. It was all there again, clear as the night sky, the tears, the scream, it was just as fresh. They took to the steps and they closed the gate far more slowly this time, they would take one last look and they would board the plane for New York in the morning, never to return, the horrors of 1993 almost erased from their memories. One last look.

They looked and as they turned and went to descend. They stopped. The shadow cast on the wall as he walked slowly through Old Fishmarket Close, joining Barrie’s Close and looking back up at them at the top of the steps. Parole? Already? After THAT? This couldn’t be. It mustn’t be. It CAN’T be! It was. They turned to flee, the evidence they had given reverberating in their heads in crystal clear tones, dolby stereo almost. He laughed. They turned to flee and the gate was stuck; the heavy wrought iron gate at the top of the close was not moving and he slowly laughed, throwing his head back. He removed the blade from his pocket, shining under the pool of amber light from the lamp. Served cold it would be as a siren was heard screaming down the Royal Mile, the cars, the sirens, the men, the women, the shouts, the tears…