Paul’s Music
A fairy tale yet to happen on the Isle of Skye
“Probably spam,” Paul thought, reading his messages in his flat in Glasgow, and he almost deleted the email, but he remembered in time that spam wasn’t likely to have his name in the header. Confirmation for Paul Burns was showing, and he could see just the beginning of the message, Paul, We have found. . . He hovered over the return address and saw the message came from Preserving Sounds of Scotland. He could open it, at least. It should be safe as long as he didn’t click on anything.
Paul, We have found a box containing old music lyrics and notations in the ruins of a farmhouse near Portree. We know of your interest in the old music and we’d like to offer these manuscripts to you. We don’t want to trust them to the postal service, even with signed delivery. They’re too precious, and many are too fragile. We believe the box to date from the late seventeenth century, although some of the documents may be copies of much older works. We’re eager to hear you play them and trust you’ll bring the music to a wider audience. Therefore, we’ve arranged for your travel to Skye, where we can give you the box in person. Your tickets for the ferry are reserved. Your B&B reservation is confirmed paid. You can access either with the links below. Do, please, bring your fiddle. Many of the local residents haven’t heard these pieces played in their lifetimes and want to be first, before they’re introduced to the world. We’ll forward money to your account for any expenses. We’re anticipating hearing you play. It will be good to hear the old songs again. A camera wouldn’t go amiss, if you have one. The scenery on Skye is lovely in the autumn. I’ll meet you there. There was the address of a B&B with directions, and the email was signed, Blane, with the name of the organization, Preserving Sounds of Scotland, underneath.
This couldn’t be real. He closed the email without clicking the links, just to be safe. But curiosity caused him to look at his online money account. Yes, there it was, a transfer waiting to be claimed, for £500. He looked at the email again and felt his stomach clench when he saw that the dates corresponded with his planned vacation time from his work. This could happen. He could actually. . .
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