by Dalton Quick with art by Lacey Finchum<\/strong><\/p>\n Sometimes I imagine what it would feel like to die.<\/p>\n I find a place on the fields of Glencoe overlooking the Highlands. I sit there, the ground shaking beneath me, smoke rising in the distance, the sounds of guns and cannons firing in the fields over the mountains. I close my eyes and feel the vibrations work through me. I think of all of the pain I\u2019ve felt in my life \u2013 the burns, scrapes, blows and falls. I imagine them all coming together in a single instant, the bomb falling, the ground trembling, my body quivering as the pain rips me to shreds. I do this every day, several times over. Because a foolish part of me hopes that maybe, if I get it right, I\u2019ll feel what\u2019s supposed to come after \u2013 the kiss of death, the sweet release, the end of it all.<\/p>\n And I\u2019ll finally be free.<\/p>\n Free of the fear.<\/p>\n Free of this war.<\/p>\n The war my father is leaving us for.<\/p>\n The night before his departure, I\u2019m treating the inevitable with silence and watching the stars on a strangely still night, in my usual place on the fields just outside our house. Or, what was once a house. Since the battles started between the Scottish and the British, our village has been decimated, the walls of our house reduced from stone to clay mud that barely packs together, and a straw roof to match.<\/p>\n My dad says that houses fall; homes stand forever. But I wonder if a home can stand when the man who built it is gone.<\/p>\n \u201cCan\u2019 sleep?\u201d His Celtic drawl slips out in every breath. My mum, a proper English woman, says that\u2019s her favorite thing about him. She broke all protocol when she married a man from the warring Kingdom. Whenever I ask her how she could leave her homeland, her family, her every loyalty and sense of being for a man of a different lot, she simply smiles and says: \u201cWhat we had in common was greater than what separated us.\u201d She means love.<\/p>\n I can\u2019t help wondering if she\u2019d make the same choice, knowing he\u2019s about to leave us. Knowing there\u2019s a good chance he\u2019ll never come back.<\/p>\n \u201cCan I tell ye a story?\u201d<\/p>\n He doesn\u2019t wait for an answer, and I\u2019m not sure I could voice one if I wanted to. Sometimes grief gets caught in your throat. I sit motionless, feeling the grass sway as he sits beside me and runs his hand down my arm.<\/p>\n His hands are warm, comforting, strong\u2026 all the things our family will need to survive this war. \u201cCalder was verra brave; didna show his fear a the monster even a lil\u2019, though he was shakin\u2019 in his boots. And Adair was more fearful of disobeyin\u2019 Da then of the monster. So they get their canoe, and they go out on the Loch, where they bide their time waitin\u2019 for the monster to show. And when it doesn\u2019, Adair jumps right inta the water, challengin\u2019 \u2018im\u2026 and, then, BAM!\u201d<\/p>\n Dad throws his hands together with a clap like gunfire before the dawn of battle; and then he throws his hands on me, reaching under my ribs, tickling me as he makes the noises of what I can only assume are meant to be a monster.<\/p>\n \u201cThere he is!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOkay! Okay, knack off!\u201d I manage, fighting back his arms and my laughter. \u201cI\u2019m too old for these stories. Too old to be scared by monsters.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWill ye le me finish, laddie? Will ye jus\u2019 give me that?\u201d Folding his hands, his eyes wander the distance. \u201cSo there\u2019s the monoster \u2013 swimmin\u2019 underneath \u2018em. And it didna take long for the monster to pull the wee lad under. Now, Calder had a choice to make. He could paddle home, grab his Da, and try to make it back, knowin\u2019 tha his brother migh\u2019 not make it, ye ken. Or he can jump in the water and try helpin\u2019 him himself.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut why would the brother who\u2019s scared be any more suited to battle the monster?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause, lad\u2026\u201d He inhales, a satisfaction in his eyes, \u201che\u2019s the aulder of the two brothers. He\u2019s stronger; he knows battle and weapons. He knows how to win a fight.\u201d<\/p>\n The revelation settles, his lesson as clear as the heavens on a starry night like this.<\/p>\n \u201cNobody ever truly outgrows fear, me son. Tha\u2019s the point of the tale. Your monster mae not be the serpent of Loch Lommond. It migh\u2019 be a battle yer worried ye\u2019ll lose, a war that tears people apart, an adventure ye migh\u2019 not make it home from, a sickness that threatens to take ye\u2026 or it migh\u2019 be sayin\u2019 goodbye.\u201d His eyes meet mine for just a moment, his voice a whisper when he says, \u201cTha\u2019s my fear\u2026 sayin\u2019 goodbye to ye.\u201d<\/p>\n I turn away after that, while he runs his hand through my hair. And though I\u2019ve played up the big man who couldn\u2019t possibly let fear rule him, I feel like a young boy again.<\/p>\n He lips quiver silently as he kisses my shoulder, savoring what might be the last time he sees me. And I let him do it\u2026 because my own tears have soaked through my shirt – the goodbye running down my face.<\/p>\n \u201cThis world is full of monsters. It\u2019s okay to be scared of \u2018em. You should be scared of \u2018em. But it\u2019s not okay to run away.<\/p>\n \u201cI love ye.\u201d He places one more kiss on my forehead. \u201cI know that ye know tha\u2019, but I\u2019ll spend every minute of every day sayin\u2019 it to ye even when yer not there to hear it. I\u2019ll be sayin\u2019 it while I\u2019m gone; and I\u2019ll be sayin\u2019 it when I get back.\u201d<\/p>\n If only he can make it that long.<\/p>\n I love you, too. I wish I wasn\u2019t sobbing silently behind my closed lips. Maybe then I could say the words out loud.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Over the Scottish Sea by Dalton Quick with art by Lacey Finchum Sometimes I imagine what it would feel like to die. I find a place on the fields of Glencoe overlooking the Highlands. I sit there, the ground shaking beneath me, smoke rising in the distance, the sounds of guns and cannons firing in…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":9281,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1412,1490],"tags":[1170,1578,1349,1577],"class_list":["post-9280","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-writers-artists-2020","category-writers-artists-night","tag-dalton-quick","tag-glencoe","tag-lacey-finchum","tag-over-the-scottish-sea","category-1412","category-1490","description-off"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/stateoftheozarks.net\/showcase\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9280","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/stateoftheozarks.net\/showcase\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/stateoftheozarks.net\/showcase\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stateoftheozarks.net\/showcase\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stateoftheozarks.net\/showcase\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=9280"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/stateoftheozarks.net\/showcase\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9280\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9282,"href":"https:\/\/stateoftheozarks.net\/showcase\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9280\/revisions\/9282"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stateoftheozarks.net\/showcase\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/9281"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/stateoftheozarks.net\/showcase\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9280"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stateoftheozarks.net\/showcase\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=9280"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stateoftheozarks.net\/showcase\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9280"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nI know the beginning before Dad says a word; it\u2019s the way he starts every fairytale. There is no, \u201cOnce upon a time.\u201d He says the best stories aren\u2019t found in the past; they\u2019re lived in the moment. \u201cOver the Scottish Sea, there were two Highlander brothers, one aulder, one younger. One day, the brother Adair was readyin\u2019 to go out on Loch Lommond, against his Da\u2019s orders. Ye see, Da\u2019d been tellin\u2019 \u2018em stories a the monster livin\u2019 in the waters since they were wee bairns. But Adair craved adventure, and, so, he convinced his brother, Calder, to go along with him.<\/p>\n