The Library Of Edinburgh

Chapter Seven - Prophecies

Somewhere in the Scottish Highlands, Many Years Back

James

He hastily walked through the vast corridor's of his family estate, carrying a heavy bag of flour that his grandmother, who found herself busy for the Christmas event they were hosting later in the evening, has requested.

Today, like many other days before Christmas, James's family were immensely busy with the preparations for their annual Christmas event. The Mac an Righ family hosts a Christmas dinner every year for their closest friends, family members and neighbors. It's said that the tradition dated back his grandfather's grandfather and no one has broken it since then. It has been, according to James's calculations, more than 150 years of family tradition and something that the whole family worked together to make happen. 

He reached the kitchen grounds, where his grandmother and a few other family members were occupied with finishing baking all sorts of bread and deserts for the festivities. He placed the bag of flour on the floor and let his grandmother know that he had done as he was asked. 

A little boy ran across the kitchen, crawling in between one the wooden tables in the middle of the room, holding a small airplane toy in his hand, pretending to fly him around the world, as if the things in the kitchen were trees and obstacles that he had to go and dodge through.

James didn't pay much mind to the little boy, he had done it too when he was a kid once. What bothered him was what it came next, a young lady, with blonde hair and blue eyes, went under the table to pick the little kid up and warned him about the dangers of playing carelessly in the kitchen. 

"Arthur, what I have I told you about playing in the kitchen?" The young lady scolded. The little boy looked up at her with a sad smile plastered on his face, he probably enjoyed being where most people were, which, in that particular moment, was the kitchen.

"You can play with daddy in the living room, what do you think?" She softly inquired the little boy, holding him up in her arms.

"Yes, pwease!" Arthur joyfully said as they walked away from the kitchen and into the main living room.

James smiled at the sight, his cousin Christopher has had the luck to find a good woman to settle down with. He knew that the chances he had to truly find a woman that admired and loved him for him were slim, if not none. When his company's success took off, James found himself in a position in which he did not want to ever be in. He was now a man that many young women looked up to and wanted to be with, his richness were an opposing factor to who wished to have a meaningful and authentic commitment. 

His cousin has had more luck in certain areas of life in which James could never compete in, although he wasn't as successful as James, he held things dear to him that were far more precious than wealth could ever be. Christopher had all the essential factors to have an authentic connection with a woman and they both had the necessary, if not too much, commitment and love for each other that, consequently, made them able to have a beautiful family. Little Arthur was the living proof of Christopher's own success, something that could only be achieved with genuine love from the woman he cherishes. What his cousin had could not be attained by advertisement segments on television or articles on the New York Times.

Grandmother Mabel watched as James's smile turned into a frown, upon the sight of little Arthur. She walked up to him and brought her hand to one side of his arm and asked him to accompany her outside. James nodded his head and they existed the kitchen grounds through an adjacent door, leading to the estate's gardens.

"What is wrong dear? You haven't been yourself since you got here!" She considered, interrupting their walk and Jame's train of thought as she stood in front of him to better understand the situation at hand. When he didn't replied to her inquiries she continued, "Some voids can not be filled by things of this world dear." She wisely finished.