This post is submitted to Friday Fictioneers.
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.”