Free Flower of Scotland by William Meikle

shadows across the ceiling. Far off in the night a cow lowed, and it was only then that he realised that his generator had stopped, its ever present clunk and hum suddenly silent.
    "Bloody thing can wait till the morning" he said, but he knew it would be too late by then. The outside temperature would already be well below freezing, and it would still be dropping. He knew from bitter experience that the house would be one big block of ice before dawn if he didn't get down to the cellar and kick start the machine.
    It was only when he got out of bed that he realised just how quiet the night was. He pulled the curtains back and stared out of the window, out across the bare expanse of snow to the forest beyond. The sight that met him almost stopped his heart.
    Out there, just at the top of the tree line, a shimmering, dancing rainbow of lights hovered among the trees, illuminating the canopy with a cold steel blue that pulsed and quivered as if alive.
    A voice whispered in his left ear
    Can you hear them?
    And this time he could. At first it was little more than a whisper, but it grew into a chorus of high pitched chanting unlike anything he'd ever encountered. To start with there were no words, just a formless wall of sound, but then patterns began to form and the melody slowed to an air, a lullaby that he almost remembered from childhood.
    He stepped back as the lights flashed once, brightly, and, pulling the curtains shut, fought off the urge to get back in to bed and huddle under the covers. His first priority was the generator. Strange lights in the woods would just have to wait - if he didn't get the generator fixed he was going to be a prime candidate for hypothermia.
    His fingers were slow to respond to his brain's commands as he fumbled with the buttons of his cardigan and his shoe laces proved impossible to manipulate. Silence had returned by the time he was fully dressed and when he pulled back the curtains all he could see was the dark shadow of the forest and the moonlight on the snow.
    "Definitely goin' daft in the heid," he muttered to himself, and put it to the back of his mind. He realised that there was a lot of detail back there now, things that he'd have to confront later, but for now he had to get to the generator.
    The hallway was in darkness as he came down the stairs and the only sound was the squeak of his shoes on the old wooden boards. It was as he reached the bottom step that the hallway seemed to explode in bright, almost blinding, light, and the accompanying singing echoed loudly in his ears, a steadily rising chorus that threatened to lift off the top of his head.
    Can you hear them? his father's voice cackled in his ear.
    Through the glass panes of the door Jim could see movement: thin, almost skeletal, long-limbed and big headed, they cavorted and danced just beyond the doorstep.
    Their song was enticing, promising happy days in golden fields and dancing under the moon. Isobel would have understood - she would have gone with them. But not Jim. Jim had responsibilities .Jim was made of sterner stuff. He wouldn't run away on a whim.
    He picked up the only weapon available to him as the door rattled on its hinges and the voice in his head echoed in a loop.
    Can you hear them?
    Can you hear them?
    Can you hear them?
    It was the village postman who found him two days later. He had trudged all the way up to the house, leaving huge gouges in the deep, unbroken snow. When Jim didn't answer his knock he lifted the letterbox and peered through.
    The sight sent him running and it was big Sandy McPherson, the local bobby, who actually broke open the locked door.
    At first they thought it was a heart attack that had got the big farmer, but when they turned him over they found the true reason.
    The last inch of a pencil protruded from his left ear, almost imperceptible amid the pool of congealed blood. Crumpled up in his left hand they found a note, but they would never understand its meaning.
    There was only