I climbed where ragged cloudbanks slept,
Where winter gripped the stone.
The wind recalled forgotten names
and sins I’d thought atoned.
No raven cried above the crag,
No shepherd crossed the snow.
Yet footsteps answered every stride
Where none but mine should go.
A giant shape, a man of gray,
Rose silent from the white.
His eyes held neither wrath nor grace,
Just rigid ancient sight.
He turned and climbed the frozen ridge
Without a word to say.
I followed where the Grey Man led
Along the haunted way.
Each drift became another year,
Each stone a hidden shame.
Old promises I’d cast aside
Returned and spoke my name.
The friend I failed, the trust I broke,
The kindness left undone.
They waited on that mountain path
Like shadows in the sun.
I begged the towering guide to halt,
He never looked behind.
For every step I wished to flee,
He climbed within my mind.
At last we reached the highest peak
Where earth embraced the sky.
The Grey Man faced me, still as frost,
And met me eye to eye.
His shape dissolved in blowing snow,
The mountain stood alone.
The weight I’d carried all my life
‘Twas here that I was shown.
Now when the mists of Ben Macdui
Wrap silence round the stone,
Some hear the Grey Man’s measured tread…
Some hear their very own.
By Heather Patton / Verdant Butterfly
High in Scotland's Cairngorms stands the mountain of Ben Macdui, said to be haunted by Am Fear Liath Mòr, the Great Grey Man. Those who venture into the mist often tell of unseen footsteps, an overwhelming sense of dread, and a towering shadow that many believe haunts the summit and passes.
Ben Macdui - (Ben muhk-DOO-ee)
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By Heather Patton · Launched a year ago
A creative space with over 170 enchanting stories and poems. I write fantasy, folklore and genre bending prose that can step off the path into comedy, adventure or the unsettling at any moment.
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