The Devil and the Dark Island

He heard things sometimes . . .

Bonnie Prince Jamie felt that prickling presentiment in the back of his neck that meant something weird was about to happen. Slowly, softly, a mist was beginning to rise around the wildflower patch. The mist thickened and began to separate into wisps resembling human forms. Another shape appeared, taller and more solid. Its ghostly arms lifted and ghostly hands raised a long narrow shape to a ghostly mouth.

And then the music started.

Jamie fought back against the music's lure, terrified that at any minute he'd be able to hear - and understand - what They wanted, and knowing his sanity would not survive that knowledge.

Ghostly wisps on Eilean Dubh? Talking seals? Fairies in Caisteal Mac an Rìgh? An evil property developer lusting for the Island's beautiful coastline? An archaeologist lusting for a Mesolithic site? A newspaper editor lusting for the archaeologist?

As Jean Mac an Righ would say, "Whatever next?" Or would say were she not busy leading a women's sit-in to stop the bulldozers, having Darroch's baby by torchlight, or wowing the crowd at the Celtic Folk Festival.

A Dhia beannaich mi! It's all happening, on the quiet little Dark Island.