Short Stories

Winter

The light slowly trickled down the Scottish hills, illuminating the vast, green mountainside. Small towns rested on the hillside with highways as their only entry and exit point.

Emilia had seen the Scottish countryside before. At first, the countryside seemed like rolling hills and non-existent villages scattered in between. Then as time moved on, she started to enjoy the countryside. There was always something to explore and new towns and villages to see. Scotland was different to her than it was four years ago.

She moved to Scotland due to her family's job and found that it was more her home than any of the other military bases she stayed at. She felt like the country better suited her and was different than the United States. Even the countryside was different from the US countryside.

Scotland was her home.

Emilia closed her eyes and watched as the train stopped at another station. Traingoers whisked on and off the train with suitcases, backpacks, or the minimal tote bag. Others stayed in their seats and stayed mum to themselves or talked with friends.

She opened her phone and saw the voicemail notification that she didn't want to delete. The voicemail she wished she never received. She unlocked her phone and pressed on the voicemail notification. She brought her phone to her ear and listened to the rough Scottish accent:

Emilia Clarke,

We regret to inform you that your fiancé, Logan Mackenzie, was killed in an automobile accident on the 27th of November in Edinburgh. We have records of your relationship and would like to discuss his finances and real estate with you alongside discussing the court case against the driver. Please let us know at the enclosed telephone number.

Once again, we are so sorry for your loss.

Edinburgh Police

Emilia listened to that voicemail for the hundredth time. It felt unreal. Unreal that she and Logan had their final goodbye at the train station in Edinburgh. Unreal that her last phone call with him was wishing him a good night's sleep. Unreal that her last text with him was her saying how much she loved him and that she couldn't wait to come home.

Now he wasn't home.

Emilia stared out the window and watched as Edinburgh castle came into view. Princes Street was illuminated with the lights and rides of the annual Christmas market and sounds of screaming and laughter drifted towards the train station.

The train stopped and Emilia grabbed her duffel bag. Inside was clothes, her laptop and its charger, her phone charger, a scrapbook of her and Logan together for evidence and memories, and a letter. The letter was unopened and Logan's parents wanted her to open it when she visited the castle.

She stepped off the train and followed the mass of travelers out of Waverley Station. Once she caught her breath, she started to walk towards her hotel. Around her were tourists, people going in and out of the Christmas market, and people walking home from work, school, or date night.

She walked towards the Albert Memorial in Charlotte Square. Their apartment was near the area. The walk was like a prisoner heading to execution. Slow and painful. She stood on the front steps and placed the key into the keyhole, taking a breath before turning it.

She opened the door and walked in. The lights were off except for a nightlight for their cat. She closed the door and felt something soft brush her leg. She crouched down and stroked her cat.

She turned on the light and walked to the bedroom. She threw the duffel bag on the ground and threw herself onto the bed, tears trickling down her face. She silently cursed herself for going back home to Glasgow to celebrate Thanksgiving with her family and not taking Logan with her.