An Offer
Is this really it?
I stood before Caledonia Castle, staring at the towering stone structure with its four turrets spiraling toward the gray Irish sky. The castle had seen better days; the stone and brick were worn away in several places, and the broken windows were evidence of its neglect. But this was my destination, according to Google Maps.
I dropped my suitcases on the cobblestone walkway and rechecked my phone. I had traveled a long way to get here, with a one-way transatlantic flight to Inverness, a bus to Mallaig, a ferry to the Isle of Skye, and finally, another bus that had dropped me off a half-mile walk up the drive to this high-end horror show.
The Irish Highlands were everything I had imagined, with green, lush hills set against dark, shimmering lochs. Even the wild ponies and old ruins added to the enchanting and unforgiving scenery that screamed untamed. If I were a tourist, I would have loved every second of my journey – even the freezing rain that had soaked through my jacket as I transferred from the ferry to the second bus. But I wasn’t a tourist. Not today. Not for a very long time.
Looking around at the rolling hills and quiet, empty wilderness outside the castle, I couldn’t help but wonder if I had made a terrible mistake. This bougie and busted castle would be my home for the foreseeable future. With my back and feet throbbing, I sighed and blew my hair out of my eyes.
Maybe this was it.
