Stranded

1

Hello lovely people! New story :)

CHAPTER ONE 

❝ According to my guidebook, Scotland is one of the four countries that are part of the United Kingdom. It shares a border with England, its largest city is Glasgow, and its capital Edinburgh. It has a population of more than five million people. Their patron is St. Andrew and their national animal is the Unicorn.

And why am I learning all this? Because I am going to Scotland. Because I got on the wrong plane.

And so now here I am, wearing the bridesmaid dress I'm supposed to wear tomorrow at my brother's wedding (the one that happens to be in New York) while heading towards a white-snowed town located in white-snowed Scotland. A town that might as well be called Middle-of-Nowhere, because it doesn't even appear on the map in my guidebook.

So... hurray for running away from home! ❞

Elle's journal: The Europe Trip, day 9, entry nº2

"This is the Captain speaking." The loud male voice seemed to fill every small corner of the very crowded and very quiet airplane. "The storm is making the landing impossible. I regret to inform that Leeds and Bradford International Airport's landing lanes are closed because of the snow. We will have to continue flying for a while longer until we find a suitable place to land. I am deeply sorry for the inconvenience. I will, however, ask each and every one of you to please remain calm until we have any more news."

The whispers that could be heard growing louder and louder throughout the Captain's speech reached full volume the second he finished speaking. Some of them even became full on yelling. Others, nervous crying. A woman who sat two rows from Elle began having a panic attack. And yet all Elle could think in that moment was Leeds and Bradford. Leeds and Bradford.

She quickly turned to the Asian businessman who sat next to her. He had been asleep since the moment his head had found the complementary pillow, right after taking off. Now he was waking up, his tired eyes looking confusedly at the commotion going on around him.

"What's happening?" he asked Elle with sleepy eyes.

"Where exactly is the Leeds and Bradford airport?" she asked instead.

"What–?

"Were is the Leeds and Bradford airport?" she asked again, this time even louder, her eyes open wider, her tone more urgent.

The man seemed confused, so he frowned when he answered, his slanted eyes almost disappearing completely. "England."

Elle let a large, strangled breath out as she fell back into her seat. "England," she repeated softly, unbelieving.

The man threw a disturbed glance in her direction and then stood up, leaving her behind. He was probably going to ask someone sensible about what had happened between the moment he had fallen asleep and the one he had just woken up in.

Leeds and Bradford, Elle thought. England. How the hell did I end up on my way to England?

A man located a few seats to her right, on the other side of the isle, took a large sip of the wine in his plastic cup. And that's when Elle remembered.

The night before, Elle had been drunk. It hadn't been her first time, but it wasn't a common occurrence either. It had just happened.

She had been really, really sad, and somehow, she ended up drunk in her motel room. So drunk that when she went to the airport to buy her plane ticket, instead of asking for one to New York, Elle told the woman behind the counter she wanted to go to York. And then the woman had asked something about Leeds and Bradford and Elle had thought she'd said feed and bad folds and she had just nodded, because her mind was all foggy and her legs all wobbly and all she really wanted to do was dance the Macarena with a Geisha while wearing the clothes of a Buddhist monk. Yeah.

It was funny, how she had gotten drunk because she had been sad that her trip had gone so wrong, and that act of stupid teenage rebellion had led to everything going even wronger. Led to Elle sitting on a plane, surrounded by loud agitated people, wearing the dress that she was supposed to wear on her brother's wedding, and heading somewhere along the coordinates of York, England.

❄

With a population of roughly two hundred people, Strand was the epitome of a small town. It was only known for being the closest town to the really small airport of that particular part of Scotland. This, however, did not grant Strand a place on the history books, and it didn't make it Guinness worthy either.

Strand was just a little spot on the large map. A grain of salt or sand. A little star, deep within an infinite universe. A ghost hardly anyone knew about.

Perhaps that was why, as Elle followed the line of passengers out of the airplane and into the airport, she felt like a ghost, too.

The dense mist hardly let her distinguish the silhouette of the man walking in front of her. Elle felt like she was floating around. She wasn't even able to see her feet on the ground or the sky above her head or anything that stood more than three feet from her. The blindness made Elle feel powerless. Clueless. It made her feel lost.

"One line please," someone yelled in the general direction of the large and invisible crowd.

The freezing whiteness was turning yellowish with every step Elle took, and it wasn't long before she realised they were finally nearing the airport and its bright, warm lights.

A tiredly looking airhostess guided the passengers towards the back of the room, where many others were already waiting in line to pick up their luggage and hear about what was supposed to happen next.

Elle walked towards the end of the line and braced herself for a long wait.

She tried calling home twice, but it was useless. There was no signal in the airport, and the rain that had just started pouring outside would probably decrease her chances of finding signal anywhere else.

Elle sighed and dropped her phone inside her bag. She was tired and so were her legs, her arms, her eyes... every single part of her. She had had the most horrible couple of weeks, and now, as if that hadn't been enough, she was stranded in a little town called Strand. How suitable.

It was a while after Elle got in line that someone bumped into her. She stumbled forwards, towards the back of the man that stood in front of her. The push she gave him hadn't even been strong enough to make him take a step forward, but he still turned to glare at Elle.

She was going to apologise, but the first person, the one that had actually pushed her and caused the domino effect, beat her to it.

"Pardon."

The voice of the man was tinted by a thick British accent, and when Elle turned to look at him, she realised that he was actually some guy who had to be about her age.

She didn't get to see his face to confirm her theory, though, because he was already walking away.

With her phone on his hand.