Ghost Bite

When we were in Edinburgh last weekend, Dovey and I went on a ghost tour of the city. It was great fun. The guide took us on a walking tour of the hidden chambers under the city, and through a beautiful old cemetary called "Greyfriars."

When we were at the end of the tour, he let us stand inside a fairly famous tomb in a gated section of the cemetary. It's a tomb that's rumored to be host to a ghost called "The MacKenzie Poltergeist." The guide warned us not to stand too close to the back of the tomb, because that was where the majority of the activity happens. He climed that tourists often complained of coming home from the tour only to fnd the next morning that they had been inexplicably, and badly, bruised.

We scoffed, and made sure to stand at the far back, right next to the wall.

After the tour, we laughed, had a few pints and headed back to the apartment. When I got in the shower the next morning, here's what I found on my arm:

Boo!

I had a momentary freak-out, but then Dovey reminded me that I had actually fallen down on the street the previous morning. (Not a result of ale ove-consumption. We had been in the city about ten minutes when I tripped over a cobblestone. Graceful. I fell on my knees hard, and skinned them both big time.) So, that's a much more likely explanation. Still, it was an interesting spooky coincidence.