Before the Sky Faded to Black

Malcolm was born into privilege. Loch Ness Castle was far from shabby. Set deep in the
Highlands, it featured fireplaces tall enough for three grown Scotsmen to stand in. Their
cook, Mrs. FitzMorris, never put anything less than a full spread on their dining room table
come evening. As a boy, Malcolm played with his siblings in the pasture, rode horses 'til he
was forced to come in for the night, and read books by the fire until his nanny pushed him up
the stairs to bed.
But, when he was called to battle, life began to take a very different shape. Malcolm and his
kinsmen slept in tents with nothing better than a rock for a pillow. They had to hunt for their
meals and cook it themselves by the fire. He couldn't remember the last time he bathed like a
civilized man, in a tub filled by his servants.
On the morning of April 17, 1746, as he stepped onto the battlefield at Culloden Moor, all
the fineries of life faded away. What difference did it make if he ate his meals off a silver
platter or a piece of bark? As he stared death square in the eye, Malcolm finally understood
life doesn't consist of silver spoons or cloth-covered tents. Rather, it consists of the people
we love along the way. It's shaped by the people we give our lives for on the battlefield.
As the Redcoats closed in on him, he watched his fellow soldiers drop, one after another.
Inhaling deeply, he charged the battlefield, knowing it was only a matter of time before the
sky faded to black.