It was an August night.  Most of the summer gone, and the new autumn still waiting to be born.  The dripping cotton candy sky hangs on the horizon, stretching its embellished hue to last just a little while longer.            They sat in the car pulled over on the road, throwbacks pouring out from the speakers, a sense of nostalgia...

The year is 1787.  A crisp autumn breeze sweeps through the Scottish hills.  Not a star lay in the sky, and the night is pitch black.  Marion McLeamont raises the flickering candle over each of her sibling’s faces, taking in all of their features.  She turns to her mother, the light of the candle highlights the crevices by her eyes revealing the many smiles she’s worn through...