It's Still Life

Beyond an Intersection Named After an English King and a Saint
Six Sentence Story: The Final Day

(Part 3) The Isle of Skye: To Write an Ending

The sun frets Loch Harport with gold so flaked and sharp that I hold my breath just to see—this is Carbost, the Isle of Skye, and Talisker Distillery; we’re here for the Single Malt Special 2024 Release of rare cask-strength whiskies—and to meet up with our friend, the Red-Headed Writer—The Raconteuse.

And there she is—fingers feeding stories into her laptop; she looks up and laughs, empties her glass of Talisker Tidal, and proclaims, “Of all the whisky joints in all the towns in all the world… you walk into mine!”

“That’s our distillery cat—his name’s Flake, because he is,” says one of the tour guides, as a large black, yellow-eyed cat rubs against my leg as if testing for rodentia-ness, then strolls off bored, tail tuned to the music of conversations about smoke and barley and nose and sea salt; this cat owns every corner of the distillery.

I settle in next to The Raconteuse—I want to hear every detail about the gargoyles (I’m very fond of them), and we compare their loosely-related cousins at Reims Cathedral, and of course there is whisky in tulip-shaped glasses, and we talk about the Highlands—Hünga lies quietly under the table, wearing his high-viz therapy vest—and Nick finishes another dram and leans back into his chair.

“Brigid,” he says, “I’m going to stay here for a while—I shall knot myself to the Highlands, let its wind unravel my certainties; I’ll become that barefoot pilgrim who rewrites his veins, and when the light leaves me hollow as a bird’s bone, I will wear its fingerprint forever.”

In hindsight, I should have known this would happen when we crossed the border into Scotland—this is where his heart has known freedom, and where his soul skips a few steps ahead of him; I should have known… because I am the one writing this.

Slán go fóill

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Written for Denise’s Six Sentence Story including the word “flake”.  Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2025.

Description for the visually impaired: A tranquil Scottish Highland scene featuring a gentle stream winding through grassy moorland, with a solitary white cottage nestled in the distance beneath dramatic, cloud-covered mountains.