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Children's Stories
by Margo Fallis
The Beautiful Glen


"I am so tired! Why does it seem like weíve been flying for a week? Letís find somewhere to rest, Bruce," Bonnie complained.

Bruce looked down at the countryside below. Woods, rivers and hills spread out, carpeting the land. Tall mountains were off in the distance, indicating they were very near the highlands. "Thereís a glen below. Iím sure if we land, we can find a nice patch of buttercups or bluebells to rest on."

"You donít have to say that twice! Letís go," Bonnie said. The two butterflies fluttered down, landing in a field of tall grass that was blowing back and forth in a light wind. "This is better. I donít think my wings could have gone another mile!" Bonnie yawned.

"Where are we anyway?"

"If my calculations are correct, we should be in Glen Fiddich. The river Fiddich and Dullan Water meet up here. Look around you. Have you ever seen anywhere more peaceful looking?" Bruce asked.

"It is lovely. Oh, look. There are some buttercups. Iím starving," Bonnie said and flew over to the bright yellow flowers. As the butterflies sipped nectar, a herd of deer came walking close by. In fact, they were so close that they knocked Bonnie and Bruce off the buttercups. "Hey! Whatís going on?" Bonnie said. She stood up and brushed the dirt off her wings. "Who did that?"

"It was those deer!" Bruce said. The reddish brown animals surrounded them. "Whoa! Look at those antlers!"

Bonnie looked up. "Itís too crowded. Weíll never have peace and Iím afraid of getting stepped on by one of their hooves. I canít believe I am saying this. Iím so tired, but letís find another place."

They fluttered off. "Thereís a town up ahead called Dufftown. Itís called the ĎMalt Whisky Capital of the World!í There are many distilleries scattered about the town.

Itís filled with Pictish history and a huge battle was fought here long ago between the Picts and the Vikings. The Picts won!"

"Are you going to give me a history lesson, or are you going to help us find somewhere to rest!" Bonnie moaned.

"Right. Okay, there is a Clock Tower in town. Weíll surely find peace there!" Bruce said.

They flew into town and found it.

"I know youíre dying to tell me. Go ahead. Fill me in on the Clock Tower!" Bonnie said, knowing it as going to happen anyway.

The Clock Tower

"If you insist. It was built in 1839, but not as a clock tower. It was built as a jail!"

"How did the clock get there then?" Bonnie asked, as the butterflies sat on the stone walls of the tower.

"The clock actually comes from Banff. It had the nickname of MacPhersonís Clock. It seems this MacPherson was a Robin-Hood-type; you know, rob from the rich, give to the poor; and the Sheriff of Banff caught him and moved the clock ahead an hour to make sure he was hung. Later, the clock was brought here, to Dufftown."

Bonnie looked at the clock. "Somehow I donít think weíll get much rest here. The clockís ticking is annoying. Where now?"

"I know where we can go! Thereís this rock, called the Giantís Chair. Itís up in the hills. We can go there, rest, and then come back to town later, when weíre hungry," Bruce suggested.

"Good idea. Please, letís go. I am just too tired!" Bonnie whined.

They flew up to the rock formation, landed in the seat part of the Giantís Chair and fell asleep. The hours passed quickly. Bonnie woke up first. She fluttered around. "Bruce, come on. Wake up! Thereís a whole field of bluebells on the other side of the hill."

Bruce yawned and stretched. "Bluebells? Yum!"

They sipped nectar until they were full. Bonnie looked up at the tall mountains in the distance. "Bruce, if Iím not mistaken, itís snowing in the mountains."

Bruce looked. Just then a chill wind blew down the glen. "Youíre right. Can you smell that though?" he asked.

"Yes. It smells like whiskey! With so many distilleries though, itís not wonder. When we were on the Clock Tower, I noticed that Glenlivit Whiskey comes from here. Iím not a drinking woman, but Iíve heard of that."

"Many of the famous whiskeys come from this area. Itís because of the water. Remember the rivers we passed over?" Bruce asked. "Would you like to go and have a drink from Dullan Water?"

"You read my mind," Bonnie said. As they were flying towards the rivers, she added, "I like traveling around Scotland. Iím learning all sorts of things and seeing so many beautiful places. This glen is one of the most beautiful in all of Scotland!" They landed at the river and sipped the cool, fresh, sparkling clean water. "Weíre lucky to see such pretty things as this," Bonnie said, looking around at the trees, flowers and flowing water.

"Weíre very lucky indeed!" Bruce answered, smiling.


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