This post is submitted to Friday Fictioneers.

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bulltot

The old stone Abbey loomed up suddenly through the early morning mist. A cold chill suddenly made my bones feel brittle. I knew I had been here before. Long before.

A shape stepped out of the dark so close in front of me that I nearly bumped into it.

“Tis me, my lad” a voice called. “Ye be a tad late I’m afraid. The battle is long over. But your great grandfather stood his ground until they kilted him. He fought for Bonnie Prince Charlie until a Redcoat thrust a bayonet through his heart. All Scotland loves the McKenzie Clan.”


  1. Oops, sorry, I over-commented on Neil’s comment.
    I enjoyed the story very much.
    I visited Culloden (and Glenfinnan) on a recent visit to Scotland and found it as eerily tragically spookily heart-rendingly magical as ever.

    Liked by 2 people

      • Oh dear. Your post got me interested in my own family tree again and I discovered that I’ve insulted my ancestors big time! They were Normans, not Saxons. Gr-gr-gr-etc-grandfather John de Vaux built Dirleton Castle on the Firth of Forth, starting about 1240. But they did come up from England.

        Liked by 2 people

        • You never know what you will find in your family tree. I found newspaper articles describing how my great grandmother hung herself from a tree in her own back yard after her husband left her with 7 children.


          Liked by 1 person

          • Now that’s a really sad story. But back then a lot of women just couldn’t get work that paid enough to buy food and pay rent. Factory jobs were often brutal. But the poor children!

            My husband read about a Goodenough hung for treason back in “merry old England.” And I discovered my gr-grandfather had been press-ganged as a 9-yr-old in London. Jumped ship in Halifax four years later. The poor sometimes endured terrible suffering no matter where..

            Liked by 1 person

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