The Scottish castle was once a wonderful place to live. The castle was built in the middle of the 1700’s. It had the biggest halls I’ve ever seen and they were all adorned with enormous ceiling paintings of angels and prehistoric creatures. It looked more like a church than a castle, but the furniture and the big fireplaces made you feel home. It felt like you belonged in every chair, on every couch, in every bed. It felt like all the stuff was just made perfectly for you and nobody else. You wouldn’t even be scared of all the sounds in the gigantic castle, because everything just made you feel safe. The garden was a beautiful place too. It was a kind of park with rare flowers of all kind, in all the colours you could imagine. I lived there for a short time. I actually ended my life there. I lived there the night everything changed.
I moved to the castle in 1803, about 50 years after the castle was built. The owner of the castle was a Scottish general named Bhaltair McElroy. Bhaltair was a god name for at general because Bhaltair means “king of the army” and he really was the king of the army. He had participated in more wars and fights than I could count and people spoke about him as “the immortal general” and because of that, I was very honoured when Bhaltairs assistant wrote me a letter that said:
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