By Perry McDaid
My eyes kept closing to dream of the 1692 massacre of Clan MacDonald: murdered as they slept, or while stumbling from slumber to find claymores missing.
Maniacal snarls replaced the smiles of the previous night guests: loyalist Campbells relaying the English king’s amnesty.
“It’ll be a while. Sleep easy, rebel,” driver and co-driver chorused teasingly.
I trusted these friends. They remained loyal through my breakdown: supportive in my painful depression.
I had trusted my ‘work-friends’ too. Sadly, like Campbells of yore, they’d opted for power and cash over honour.
When I awoke, modern Glencoe sang a dirge for all betrayed McDonalds.
Some really great imagery here, Perry. Thanks for an interesting read!