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[THE CAMERA TURNS ON. IT REVEALS TWO PEOPLE, WHO ARE SITTING BEHIND A DESK, THE SURFACE OF WHICH IS FILLED WITH VARIOUS THINGS; PENS, PILES OF PAPER, AND OTHER COMMON OFFICE KNICKKNACKS. ONE OF PEOPLE, SITTING ON THE LEFT, HAS SHORT, DARK BROWN HAIR AND GLASSES. THE OTHER, SITTING ON THE RIGHT, HAS LIGHTER BROWN HAIR, SOME OF WHICH IS DYED BLUE. THE ONE SITTING ON THE RIGHT SMILES. THERE IS AN EMPTY CORKBOARD BEHIND THEM.]
Hello, and welcome to the first ever episode of Archived: The Magnus Mysteries! I am your co-host, Tim Stoker, Archival Assistant,
And I am your co-host, Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.
I don't know why you add 'London', boss. There's no other Magnus Insitute in the world.
It's something called 'professionalism', Tim.
Never heard of it. Sounds boring.
Anyway, will you tell our lovely viewers what brings us to making this channel?
Of course.
We, as you have probably guessed, work for the Magnus Institute, an organisation dedicated to academic research into the esoteric and the paranormal. I was recently employed by the head of the Institute, Mr. Elias Bouchard, to replace the previous Head Archivist, one Gertrude Robinson, who has recently passed away.
[Stage-whisper] She was murdered.
Tim! She was not murdered, she was merely old.
[He sighs] I—
We.
— We have been working as a researcher at the Institute for four years now and am familiar with most of our more significant contracts and projects. Most reach dead ends, predictably enough, as incidents of the supernatural, such as they are – and I always emphasise there are very few genuine cases – tend to resist easy conclusions. When an investigation has gone as far as it can, it is transferred to the Archives.
Now, the Institute was founded in 1818, which means that the Archive contains almost 200 years of case files at this point. Combine that with the fact that most of the Institute prefers the ivory tower of pure academia to the complicated work of dealing with statements or recent experiences and you have the recipe for an impeccably organised library and an absolute mess of an archive. This isn’t necessarily a problem – modern filing and indexing systems are a real wonder, and all it would need is a half-decent archivist to keep it in order. Gertrude Robinson was apparently not that archivist.
From where I am sitting, I can see thousands of files. Many spread loosely around the place, others crushed into unmarked boxes. A few have dates on them or helpful labels such as 86-91 G/H. Not only that, but most of these appear to be handwritten or produced on a typewriter with no accompanying digital or audio versions of any sort. In fact, I'm very surprised that Tim found this camera in one of the back rooms, because if not for that, I would be inclined to say that the first ever technology of any kind was the computers we brought in on our first day.
Evidently, it is going to take a long time for us to sort through this mess and turn it into any functioning archive. I had plans to digitise the files into audio versions, but some of the statements have been… difficult, and this camera is the only thing that seems to not cause significant audio distortions.
And yet he still insists that the paranormal isn't real.
Because it isn't! The service down here is just dodgy. Faulty wiring.
Uh huh.
We've probably dragged this on long enough, do you want to introduce our first episode?
Indeed.
This is the Statement of Nathan Watts, regarding an encounter on Old Fishmarket Close, Edinburgh. Original statement given April 22nd 2012. Video recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London, and Timothy Stoker, Archival Assistant.
Statement begins.
This all happened a couple of years ago, so I apologise if some of the details are a bit off.
Off to a great start.
Quite. The 'my memory is fuzzy' technique.
Which doesn't mean it's not true!
It just means that they should keep a journal?
Dear diary, today a ghost pushed my coffee cup over. In other news I've not had any sleep because my blankets keep on being misplaced…
Dear diary, today I started hearing screaming noises. In other news, the club down the street just opened up…
[Laughs] Maybe I should keep a journal.
It's quite invigorating.
… Boss, I have never heard anyone use the term 'invigorating' in real life before.
[Realises something]
Do you keep a journal?!
…
Jon! Jon we need to know!
I mean, I feel like I remember it clearly but sometimes things are so weird that you start to doubt yourself. Still, I suppose weird is kind of what you guys do, right?
I will have that answered. But yup, that pretty much sums our jobs up. 'Weird'.
The Magnus Institute: Weird Is What We Do.
Can we start a petition to have that as the Institute slogan? I really want that as the Institute slogan.
Wait, do we have an Institute slogan?
I… believe we do?
It's audio, opperior, vigilo.
[Startles] Gah! Sasha!
[Considerably happier] Sasha!
I thought you were out on— nevermind. We're at least six minutes in and we haven't even gone through one paragraph of the Statement.
Why is that our Institute slogan?
Beats me. I always thought Jonah Magnus was secretly a creep or something.
Secretly?
[Laughs] Point.
[Coughs pointedly]
Right, right, statement.
Well, I'll leave you both to it. Have fun!
[At the same time] We will!
[At the same time] Right.
So I’m studying at the University of Edinburgh. Biochemistry, specifically, and I was in my second year at the time this happened. I wasn’t in any sort of university accommodation at this point, and was renting a student flat down in Southside with a few other second years.
To be honest, I didn’t hang out with them much. I took a gap year before matriculating—
—Being enrolled at a college or university.
Ohh, okay.
I was so confused, I thought it was like… cloning yourself.
"I took a gap year before cloning myself"?
It sounded science-y!
and my birthday’s in the wrong part of September, so I was nearly two years older than most of my peers when I started my course. I got on with them fine, you understand, but I tended to end up hanging out with some of the older students.
That’s why I was at the party in the first place.
Woohoo! Party time!
Meaning the events weren't only multiple years ago, but they were likely drunk while they took place.
… You've ruined party time.
Michael MacAulay, a good friend of mine, had just been accepted to do a Master’s degree in Earth Sciences so we decided a celebration was in order. Well, maybe ‘party’ isn’t quite the right word, we just kind of invaded the Albanach down on the Royal Mile, and drank long enough and loud enough that eventually we had the back area to ourselves. Now, I don’t know how well you know the drinking holes of Edinburgh, but the Albanach has a wide selection of some excellent single malts, and I may have slightly overindulged. I have vague memories of Mike suggesting I slow down, to which I responded by roundly swearing at him for failing to properly celebrate his own good news. Or words to that effect.
Long story short, I was violently ill around midnight,
Ouch.
That does put a damper on 'party time'.
Yup.
And definitely inebriated while the paranormal happenings took place.
Yeah, yeah, whatever.
and made the decision to walk the route home.
That's… not a good idea?
Martin!
[Again sounding marginally happier than Jon] Martin!
How long were you standing there?!
Sorry, sorry, I've just come back from— well, and you guys were sitting here and I wondered what you were doing—
Yes, we get it.
We're recording a YouTube video!
Oh! For the Archived: The Magnus Mysteries?
You… know it?
I, uh, helped Tim come up with the name.
Oh.
Yup! You were a great help, by the way.
Ah, it's nothing.
No, seriously, Sasha and I nearly called it Archived: Spooky Shit.
Absolutely not.
And that's why we didn't.
I'm starting to think this would have taken less time if I just recorded these statements alone.
Ah, but then you wouldn't have my wonderful company!
And Martin and Sasha sneaking up on us.
I wasn't—!
And yet I would have finished this.
He loves us really.
Back to the statement?
Yup.
I can make some tea for when this is done?
You're the best.
Yes, Martin.
[Pause. Tim raises an eyebrow.]
...Thank you.
Oh! It's, uh, it's… no problem?
It wasn’t far to my flat, maybe half an hour if I’d been sober, and the night was cool enough that I remember having a hope the chill would perk me up some. I headed for the Cowgate and the quickest way to get there from the Royal Mile is down Old Fishmarket Close. Now, I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that there are some steep hills in Edinburgh but Old Fishmarket Close is exceptional, even by those standards. At times it must reach a thirty or forty degree angle, which is hard enough to navigate when you don’t have that much scotch inside you. As I have mentioned, I had quite a lot, so it probably wasn’t that surprising when I took a rather nasty tumble about halfway down the street.
I'll add 'possible head injury' to the list of reasons why you won't think this is true, shall I?
You have to admit this is becoming ridiculous.
[Mock-condescending tone] Of course, Boss.
In retrospect, the fall wasn’t that bad compared to what it could have been, but at the time, it really shook me up, and left me with some nasty bruises. I picked myself up as best I could, checked I hadn’t seriously injured myself, no broken bones or anything, and decided to roll a cigarette to calm myself.
… Or try and get home? Or call a cab? Or call one of your friends? Maybe do anything but that?
Hm.
That was when I heard it.
“Can I have a cigarette?”
The addiction's spreading to the ghosts, oh no!
We still have no evidence this is even remotely paranormal. It could just be a person who wants a cigarette.
Wait for them to start floating in the air, or try to suck out their blood or something.
… That's vampires.
Dracula can want cigarettes too.
…
I was startled out of my thoughts by the words as I thought I had been alone. Quickly trying to compose myself and looking around, I noticed a small alleyway on the opposite side of the street. It was very narrow and completely unlit with a short staircase leading up. I could see a light fixture a little way up the wall at its entrance, but it either wasn’t working or wasn’t turned on, meaning that beyond a few steps the alley was shrouded in total darkness.
Small creepy alleyway! Small creepy alleyway alert!
I would advise for him to run.
Stood there, a couple of stairs from the street, was a figure. It was hard to tell much about them as they were mostly in the shadows, though if I’d had to guess I would have said the voice sounded male. They seemed to sway, ever so slightly, as I watched, and I assumed that they, like me, were probably a little bit drunk.
Swaying… no way they're really floating, right?
Or, like Mr. Watts suggested, they are merely drunk.
Or we can do the best of both worlds and say they were… high?
…
C'mon, that was a good joke.
I lit my own cigarette and held out my tobacco towards them, though I didn’t approach,
That was a good joke! Boss!
and asked if they were ok with a roll-up. The figure didn’t move except to continue that gentle swaying. Writing it down now, it seems so obvious that something was wrong. If I hadn’t been so drunk, maybe I’d have noticed quicker, but even when the stranger asked the question again, “Can I have a cigarette?” utterly without intonation, still I didn’t understand why I was so uneasy.
… Okay, now it is getting a little spoo- creepy, even you can't deny that.
Hm. We have to consider that this figure may just be a figment of his imagination, still.
You're impossible.
I stared at the stranger and as my eyes began to adjust I could make out more details. I could see that their face appeared blank, expressionless, and their skin seemed damp and slightly sunken, like they had a bad fever. The swaying was more pronounced now, seeming to move from the waist, side to side, back and forth. By this point, I had finished rolling a second cigarette, and gingerly held it out towards them, but I didn’t get any closer. I had decided that if this weirdo wanted a cigarette, they were going to need to come out of the creepy alleyway.
Good choice. Could have been, like, an attempted kidnapping or something.
Quite. I still say that he should have called a friend to take him home.
Oh, absolutely.
They didn’t come closer,
Good news?
Not yet.
didn’t make any movement at all except for that damn swaying. For some reason the thought of an anglerfish popped into my head, the single point of light dangled into the darkness, hiding the thing that lures you in.
Oh, okay, that's really creepy, you have to admit it.
I think Mr. Watts has an overactive imagination and he should have had less to drink.
A human anglerfish… I don't want to think about that any further.
Bad news, I have a feeling we're going to.
“Can I have a cigarette?” It spoke again in the same flat voice and I realised exactly what was wrong. Its mouth was closed, had been the whole time.
Holy shit.
And they didn't notice that before?!
If I start talking without opening my mouth, please notice before I start flying in a dark alleyway.
Pinky promise.
Whatever was repeating that question, it wasn’t the figure in the alleyway. I looked at their feet and saw that they weren’t quite touching the ground.
Wait, wait they really are levitating! Ha!
I'm glad that that's what you got out of that sentence.
I'm just happy to know I'm right.
This once.
Oi!
The stranger’s form was being lifted, ever so slightly, and moved gently from side to side.
I dropped the cigarette and grabbed for my phone, trying to turn on the torch.
Please, please just run?
Would you not be curious to see what it is?
Nah, I value my life way too much to be doing that. At most I'd use my phone to call the police.
999, the anglerfish is after me.
[Laughing] The anglerfish is— okay, okay, I think I'd make it a bit more dramatic than that.
I don’t know why I didn’t run
Exactly!
or what I hoped to see in that alley, but I wanted to get a better look. As soon as I took out my phone, the figure disappeared. It sort of folded at the waist and vanished back into the darkness, as if a string had gone taut and pulled it back.
It reminds me more of a cat toy than an anglerfish.
Or a fishing rod.
Boss, that isn't helping.
I turned on the torch and stared into the alley, but I saw nothing.
It does make you wonder… where is it now?
Could we entertain the idea that there was nothing there in the first place?
Just silence and darkness. I staggered back up to the Royal Mile, which still had lights and people, and found a taxi to take me home.
Finally!
I slept late the next day. I’d made sure I didn’t have any lectures or classes, as I had intended to be sleeping off a heavy night of drinking, which I guess I was, although it was that bizarre encounter that kept playing in my mind. And so, after making my way through two litres of water, some painkillers and a very greasy breakfast, I felt human enough to leave my flat and go to investigate the place in daylight. The result was unenlightening. There were no marks, no bloodstains, nothing to indicate that the swaying figure had ever been there at all. The only thing I did find was an unsmoked Marlboro Red cigarette, lying just below the burned out light fixture.
Nothing concrete, then. And I can't help but notice Mr. Watts did not include a photo of his feeble attempt at evidence in the statement.
Wouldn't be any marks if it was floating, would there?
No bloodstains if the intended victim had ran away.
Whatever it was, it wasn't very good at trying to lure him in.
We've just heard something very creepy and your only response other than 'it's fake' is 'it didn't try hard enough?' Boss!
There were plenty more methods it could have used to try and get him closer. But, since it didn't exist, it didn't try any of those ways.
It did have a body, though, so… one of its attempts must have been successful.
Beyond that, I didn’t really know what to do. I did as much research as I could on the place, but couldn’t find anyone who’d had any experience similar to mine, and there didn’t seem to be any folklore or urban legends I could find out about Old Fishmarket Close.
Fish.
What?
Fish. It's called Fishmarket Close, the thing was an anglerfish…
Are you suggesting evil fish spirits haunt Fishmarket Close?
You never know.
No, I'm fairly certain I do know.
The few friends I told about what happened just assumed I’d been accosted by some stranger and the alcohol had made it seem much weirder than it was.
Boss, I didn't know you were friends with this guy!
It's called the logical solution, Tim.
Sounds boring.
I tried to explain that I’ve never had hallucinations while drunk, and that there was no way this guy had just been a normal person, but they always gave me one of those looks, halfway between pity and concern, and I’d shut up.
I never did find out anything else about it, but a few days later I saw some missing person appeals go up around campus. Another student had disappeared. John Fellowes, his name was, though I didn’t really know the guy and couldn’t tell you much about him, except for two things that struck me as very important: he had been at that same party and, as far as I remembered, had still been there when I left.
Shit.
It is most definitely unrelated, but yes, quite.
The other was just that, well, on the photo they’d used for his missing persons appeal, I couldn’t help but notice that there was a pack of Marlboro Red cigarettes poking out of his pocket.
Oh, shit!
The cigarettes make a comeback!
It's not an uncommon brand—
Oh, come on! You can't chalk this up to coincidence! Same party, same cigarettes, missing person's case—
I think that Mr. Watts was very lucky he didn't get closer to the stranger, and that there is no evidence of paranormal circumstances.
I haven’t quit smoking, but I do find that I take a lot more taxis now if I find myself out too late.
And there you have it.
Well, at least he ended up getting a life lesson out of the experience?
I'm sure John Fellows would be thrilled that Mr. Watt's keeping himself safe at night.
I know you hate the word but that was super spooky.
Unfortunately, neither the investigation at the time nor our own follow up has found any evidence to corroborate Mr. Watt's statement…
I feel like there's more to that sentence…
However,
Yes!
Sasha did some… managed to find some police reports from the time, and it turns out that there were actually six disappearances in the area of Old Fishmarket Close between 2005 and 2010: Jessica McEwen in November 2005, Sarah Baldwin in August 2006, Daniel Rawlings in December of the same year, then Ashley Dobson and Megan Shaw in May and June of 2008. Then finally, as Mr. Watts mentioned, John Fellowes in March 2010.
Damn. That's an unusually high number for one place.
In just five years, yes. Especially considering all six of them remain unsolved.
...Shit.
Wait, were any of them smokers? Tied to the red cigarette case?
Baldwin and Shaw were confirmed to be smokers, as I suppose was Fellowes, but for the others, there is no evidence either way.
Three out of the six, that's still 50/50.
It could be nothing.
Or… it could be something! Don't smoke kids, the fish spirits will get you!
How threatening.
Sasha did manage to find one more thing.
Oh?
A copy of the last photograph, taken from Ashley Dobson's phone and sent to her sister, Siobhan. It was captioned "check out this drunk creeper lol", but the picture is of a darkened, apparently empty, alleyway, with stairs leading up into it.
Creepy alleyway alert strikes again.
It appears to be the same alleyway which Mr. Watts described in his statement, the one that, according to the maps of the area, leads to Tron Square — but in the picture, there doesn't seem to be anyone at all.
So then… who was she taking the photograph of?
Exactly. Or what.
We did — or rather, Sasha did — take the liberty of running the photo through some editing programs, though, and increasing the contrast appeared to reveal the outline of a long, thin hand, roughly at waist level on a male of average height.
I, for one, find it oddly hard to shake of the impression that it seems to be beckoning.
Holy shit. Can I see that?
Take your time.
…
How are you still a sceptic?
It doesn't serve as any proof of the supernatural—
It's a weird hand that has kidnapped several people and barely shows up on camera!
Well, whatever it is, I believe we can consider Nathan Watts' statement to just have enough evidence to not put it in the 'discredited' section.
I guess we can consider this statement… archived.
We're not ending every episode like that.
Oh yes we are.
We're not.
You'll see!
Save me.