Lorna's Legacy

'Over there' yelled Lorna as a flash of lightening illuminated a building on the left. She peered through the driving rain, waiting for another flash. It had to be.

'Where?' Mike stopped the car and looked into the blackness that engulfed them. Not a good sign when you have to find your accommodation in a thunderstorm.

The Highlands of Scotland was in stark contrast to the bustling streets of London. Long roads, narrow and winding. Vast areas of wilderness.

'There, see?' she nodded, and Mike turned the car, then found the track that lead up to the house. It looked neglected.

The house had not been lived in for years. Lorna was sole beneficiary of Donald MacLay, uncle of her late mother. She never knew him. Left home many years ago under mysterious circumstances.

Mike lit a fire, while Lorna made them supper. It was habitable, but sparse. Few comfortable furnishings. The storm continued, giving the place a spooky aura. As they settled for the night, a wagon rattled it's way onto the track.

'What the...?' Mike was up.

He appeared at the window and the vehicle stopped, retraced it's tracks, turned and went. They watched the tail lights disappear as it made it's way down the long, winding road. Wrong turn, he thought, and returned to bed.

The following day they cleared the house. Hanging on the wall above the fireplace hung a rhyme.

The driver comes at night
but not in the day.
Look him in the eye
and he will go away.

Donald Maclay.

'A nightly event then?' said Mike. They knew they wouldn't be here tonight.

270 words