An Irish Wedding
Posted: Friday, 09 May 2008 |
My lovely friends recently tied the knot, I wrote about that a peedie while back in one of the blogs. Their names are Geri and Mark, and they are just two of the loveliest people anyone could be privileged to know.
I was invited to the event but sadly, couldn`t make it.
How and ever, I did get sent a wheen o` pictures, two of which I`ve kindly received permission to show here.
I`m a lot older than these two, y`know. So in my status as a kind of `aunty`, I`d just like to say how very proud I am of the pair of them. May their life ahead be tender and kind, loving and fruitful, and all hurts eased by togetherness and strength.
Geri, Mark, I love the pair o` ye`s dearly. Enjoy married life!
PS..Geri, I got serious dress envy, missus..:D
I was invited to the event but sadly, couldn`t make it.
How and ever, I did get sent a wheen o` pictures, two of which I`ve kindly received permission to show here.
I`m a lot older than these two, y`know. So in my status as a kind of `aunty`, I`d just like to say how very proud I am of the pair of them. May their life ahead be tender and kind, loving and fruitful, and all hurts eased by togetherness and strength.
Geri, Mark, I love the pair o` ye`s dearly. Enjoy married life!
PS..Geri, I got serious dress envy, missus..:D
Posted on Hermit Life at 07:34
A Sea Story
Posted: Friday, 09 May 2008 |
With the collie at her heels, she took the track down to the shore. The sun set fire to the ocean in the West, shimmering, glowing coals upon the water, and the landscape around her took on a ruddy hue that belied the cold air and gave the illusion of heat.
There was a spot on the beach, a kind of starting point for her walk along it....in the sandbank of the small dunes, gulls nested and spat angrily at the hound, who always managed to keep clear, just, of the stinking mess fired in her direction, skiting back apace, whuffing at the birds in defiance.
To get there, she`d to cross the single track road, and over the stones piled up for some semblance of sea defense, for in winter gales, the waves breached the road and the fields, bestowing rocks and weed and driftwood...and these stones, so hard and slippery to walk over, never really kept the might of the water back...well, though, such trifling things couldn`t, could they?
Then she walked onto the hard packed sand, and the hound bounced and ran her way along the shoreline, just touching with swift paws, the lapping waves, leaving prints in the sand, gone soon enough as the water kissed the shore.
Tonight, her heart was heavy, and there was none of the usual joy in this walk....troubles and pain flitted in and out of her mind, unbidden, like the harpies of old, deeply taloned, peircing creatures, and she sought the solace of the shore, a place between worlds, as balm to soothe such.
But no magic worked tonight.
Following the footsteps of the hound, she kept her head down, watching the sand, watching the waters take the paw prints before her own feet, seeing shells she normally would have picked up, pocketed, taken home to put into the big glass jar on the windowsill.
Along the length of the waterline, a wavering, curving thing, few straight lines in nature, and never once looking up, not seeing where the hound went, into the dunes, not hearing the silence of the collie as she vanished into the marram grass, her tail leaving a whishing trail to follow if the woman had looked.
But the stretch of beach ended, and ended where, across the road, someone had a home. She looked at it and saw lights in the window, the cosy low kind that reinforced loneliness and made a shameful thing of looking, and she lowered her eyes and turned back the way she came, walking some yards before realising the collie was missing.
No alarm though...this hound of hers, oh, she was an old hound, a full ten years, but with the energy of a pup, bright and alert and always curious...so no doubt she`d found a delicacy of a dead rabbit somewhere and would bring it back to her feet, a gift to share, reeking and maggoty, and she`d pat her head and say "Good girl, well done" in tribute to the hunting heritage of hounds everywhere...
But as she walked on, there was no sign of the collie, and softly, she called her name, expecting an answering bark, receiving none, wondering if the dog had given up the walk and made her own way home...
Alongside the dune, she spotted the paw prints, dry sand this time so not taken by the sea, disappearing into the grass, and she left the shoreline and followed them.
There was something as old as time about sand and sea grass, something unchangable about it, and memories of the Aquatic Ape came into her mind, and of lives spent on a shoreline, shell gatherers, fishers, sea-gazers...
the sand was clean and dry, the grass whipping at her legs but fragrant with the sea air in the dying light, and she walked into the depth of the dune, into the hollows that cut off the breeze and cocooned the sound of the ocean.
In the rust coloured twilight, she could only make out the paw prints, just...and followed them around the corner of the marram where they twisted back and curved around, back out of the dune, towards the beach once more....
to the shoreline she walked, crunching shell and pebble and grit underfoot, following the tracks of her hound like a safari hunter watching spoor...
until she could follow no more, for they ended at the oceans edge, vanishing into the waves...and puzzled, she stared out to the water...this can`t be right...the hound must have veered left, or right, and gone back to the road, to the track, and home...
struggling now to see the sand and prints, she bent down, looking for them, trying to see the turned off path the dog took, not finding it, back and forth, seeking, sometimes straightening up to call out the hound`s name, a little more frantic now...
As the last light faded, the sun swallowed by the sea, and the gloom of night settled upon the shore, she turned for home, still calling the hound, believing her to be waiting, though, at the door to the house, bouncing at her, as if to say, what kept you? Let me in...
Over the stones, again..across the road...up the track in the dark, seeing the white flash of rabbit tales in her path, hearing the soft, gentle beat of the owl`s wings hunting the night, and the lonely curlew, late home, across the field.
At her back, eyes watched...glowing softly green, they were, peering out from the waves like emeralds, set into a smooth and unlined face, eyes that saw in the dark, farther than any dog, clearer than any human. Eyes that vanished again as she turned the corner at the top of the track, as the owner of them cut into the water like silk, gills dripping, fins slicing, hands fluttering down into the deep dark ....
At the door to the house was no hound waiting. And though she looked all around her place, in the outbuildings, in impossible places she knew made no sense, still, the hound was gone, and she knew that, could feel the lack of her.
She lived alone and was solitary by nature..had no-one to call, to ask if her hound was there, maybe having decided to take a wander, to visit other dogs maybe or ran after a fleeing rabbit, too far, straying into someone else`s territory.
Nothing to do, then, but wait for the morning, and hope she came back. And if not? Then she`d go looking...on a small island, there would surely be some sign of her hound, somewhere?
The house was quiet..the island hushed..folks slept, but she did not. She sat at the table by the window and watched the dark and looked, unseeing, at the Northern Lights as they shimmered and shone across the skies. The glimmer of light that was the sea flickered, at the bottom of the track, across the road and the stones, and she watched it until tiredness made her lay her head on her arms, and like so, upon the table, face turned to the night window, she slept a fitful, dreaming sleep.
And in the dark, green eyes looked in upon her face and watched.
(It`s no` finished yet though )
There was a spot on the beach, a kind of starting point for her walk along it....in the sandbank of the small dunes, gulls nested and spat angrily at the hound, who always managed to keep clear, just, of the stinking mess fired in her direction, skiting back apace, whuffing at the birds in defiance.
To get there, she`d to cross the single track road, and over the stones piled up for some semblance of sea defense, for in winter gales, the waves breached the road and the fields, bestowing rocks and weed and driftwood...and these stones, so hard and slippery to walk over, never really kept the might of the water back...well, though, such trifling things couldn`t, could they?
Then she walked onto the hard packed sand, and the hound bounced and ran her way along the shoreline, just touching with swift paws, the lapping waves, leaving prints in the sand, gone soon enough as the water kissed the shore.
Tonight, her heart was heavy, and there was none of the usual joy in this walk....troubles and pain flitted in and out of her mind, unbidden, like the harpies of old, deeply taloned, peircing creatures, and she sought the solace of the shore, a place between worlds, as balm to soothe such.
But no magic worked tonight.
Following the footsteps of the hound, she kept her head down, watching the sand, watching the waters take the paw prints before her own feet, seeing shells she normally would have picked up, pocketed, taken home to put into the big glass jar on the windowsill.
Along the length of the waterline, a wavering, curving thing, few straight lines in nature, and never once looking up, not seeing where the hound went, into the dunes, not hearing the silence of the collie as she vanished into the marram grass, her tail leaving a whishing trail to follow if the woman had looked.
But the stretch of beach ended, and ended where, across the road, someone had a home. She looked at it and saw lights in the window, the cosy low kind that reinforced loneliness and made a shameful thing of looking, and she lowered her eyes and turned back the way she came, walking some yards before realising the collie was missing.
No alarm though...this hound of hers, oh, she was an old hound, a full ten years, but with the energy of a pup, bright and alert and always curious...so no doubt she`d found a delicacy of a dead rabbit somewhere and would bring it back to her feet, a gift to share, reeking and maggoty, and she`d pat her head and say "Good girl, well done" in tribute to the hunting heritage of hounds everywhere...
But as she walked on, there was no sign of the collie, and softly, she called her name, expecting an answering bark, receiving none, wondering if the dog had given up the walk and made her own way home...
Alongside the dune, she spotted the paw prints, dry sand this time so not taken by the sea, disappearing into the grass, and she left the shoreline and followed them.
There was something as old as time about sand and sea grass, something unchangable about it, and memories of the Aquatic Ape came into her mind, and of lives spent on a shoreline, shell gatherers, fishers, sea-gazers...
the sand was clean and dry, the grass whipping at her legs but fragrant with the sea air in the dying light, and she walked into the depth of the dune, into the hollows that cut off the breeze and cocooned the sound of the ocean.
In the rust coloured twilight, she could only make out the paw prints, just...and followed them around the corner of the marram where they twisted back and curved around, back out of the dune, towards the beach once more....
to the shoreline she walked, crunching shell and pebble and grit underfoot, following the tracks of her hound like a safari hunter watching spoor...
until she could follow no more, for they ended at the oceans edge, vanishing into the waves...and puzzled, she stared out to the water...this can`t be right...the hound must have veered left, or right, and gone back to the road, to the track, and home...
struggling now to see the sand and prints, she bent down, looking for them, trying to see the turned off path the dog took, not finding it, back and forth, seeking, sometimes straightening up to call out the hound`s name, a little more frantic now...
As the last light faded, the sun swallowed by the sea, and the gloom of night settled upon the shore, she turned for home, still calling the hound, believing her to be waiting, though, at the door to the house, bouncing at her, as if to say, what kept you? Let me in...
Over the stones, again..across the road...up the track in the dark, seeing the white flash of rabbit tales in her path, hearing the soft, gentle beat of the owl`s wings hunting the night, and the lonely curlew, late home, across the field.
At her back, eyes watched...glowing softly green, they were, peering out from the waves like emeralds, set into a smooth and unlined face, eyes that saw in the dark, farther than any dog, clearer than any human. Eyes that vanished again as she turned the corner at the top of the track, as the owner of them cut into the water like silk, gills dripping, fins slicing, hands fluttering down into the deep dark ....
At the door to the house was no hound waiting. And though she looked all around her place, in the outbuildings, in impossible places she knew made no sense, still, the hound was gone, and she knew that, could feel the lack of her.
She lived alone and was solitary by nature..had no-one to call, to ask if her hound was there, maybe having decided to take a wander, to visit other dogs maybe or ran after a fleeing rabbit, too far, straying into someone else`s territory.
Nothing to do, then, but wait for the morning, and hope she came back. And if not? Then she`d go looking...on a small island, there would surely be some sign of her hound, somewhere?
The house was quiet..the island hushed..folks slept, but she did not. She sat at the table by the window and watched the dark and looked, unseeing, at the Northern Lights as they shimmered and shone across the skies. The glimmer of light that was the sea flickered, at the bottom of the track, across the road and the stones, and she watched it until tiredness made her lay her head on her arms, and like so, upon the table, face turned to the night window, she slept a fitful, dreaming sleep.
And in the dark, green eyes looked in upon her face and watched.
(It`s no` finished yet though )
Posted on Hermit Life at 08:21
Sea Story Part Two
Posted: Sunday, 11 May 2008 |
Weak sunlight, filtering in through the window, woke her and for a moment she wasn`t aware, really, where she was...still in the dreaming world her mind lingered for a space, and flashes of images played their way across her mind before vanishing in the mundanity of her room...sea green eyes, deep, bone chilling water and a flash of fin in the darkness ahead of her...
Stretching, she got up, aware at once of the lack of her hound...no whine to be let out for the morning, no bright eyes staring frankly at her asking so blatantly for food, no skittering paws across the kitchen floor til she reached her dish and began to nose it across the tiles til it reached her feet...
That emptiness gave rise to such a fierce pang of loss...
swiftly, she saw to the other beasts, feeding, watering, tending, on autopilot, not chatting to them as she normally would whilst the hound ran around the field and byres investigating every new scent and every nook and cranny as she`d done the past hundred times...
Skipping breakfast, she changed her clothes and wrapped against the chill morning air, walked out the door and was about to set off down the track to the road when a tang of salt caught her and stayed her from taking another step..salt where there should be none. Outside her window...
Along the stone walkway that passed the length of the house, she walked to the window and stooped to lift a still damp piece of seaweed from the path...
fresh still, as if it had come straight from the sea...but how could it have gotten here..she was three quarters of a mile from the sea, with fields, a track and road between house and ocean...
And she looked, past the walkway, onto the lawn, seeing the trail of seaweed cross the grass, go through the rose hedge and beyond...
So, what to do, but follow the trail....
Only, whatever had made it must have been impervious to rose thorns, for she had to detour around the hedge, and climbed the fence into the field, picking up the weed as she went, not looking up, just lost in the strange fascination for a trail that shouldn`t be, here...
The seaweed stopped at the fields end beside the bottom of her track...puzzled, she looked around, seeking more, seeking a point to this...and doing so, a flash of black caught the corner of her eye...and running, dropping the bundle of weed, she reached the ditch and looked, her heart in her throat...
And let out a high keening, kneeling, for there in front of her was her beloved hound, a black and white, twisted and bloody mess....
Dry eyed and pale, she lifted the body of the collie out of the ditch, stiff and unyielding, and laid it on the grass before her.
Whilst part of her mind grieved for the loss of her hound, her friend, her eyes saw the injuries, those inflicted, so obviously, by a passing car, too swift to stop and too uncaring to return and pick up the collie, look for the owner.
Carrying the body of the hound home, she never saw the eyes within the waves watch her progress, never saw the slice of fin cut the waves, never saw the shifting shadows under the water as they followed her progress slowly up the track, around the corner, and into one of the byres...
In the gloom of the byre she laid the hound down, gently, on the straw covered floor. Motes of dust spun lazily in the light filtered through the beams overhead, glittering and sparkling as they landed on the dirty, bloody coat of the hound.
She felt empty. All night..all night the collie had lain in that ditch...had she suffered? Was she killed outright? All night...as she had lain with her head on her arms, dreaming of seafolks and strange glowing eyes...
Moving heavily, dry eyed, she draped a barley feed bag over the body and went to fetch the spade.
It took her an hour to dig, in the stony soil of the garden, a space big enough for the hound. By that time, the haar had risen from the sea and rolled across the island, and she shivered in the chill without realising.
She planted the spade in the soil beside the hole and went to fetch the hound.
Wrapped in the barley bag, she carried the hound out to the garden with difficulty...bumping into the doorway of the byre and those to the outside with a grisly knock of paw against wood, claw scraping like it never would again, upon the tiles of the kitchen floor...
She laid the hound in the grave, and turned the collies face to the North, 91热爆, and clipped a few strands from the rose hedge to lay upon the still bloody coat...and without even thinking,nor aware of passing time, she shovelled the dirt back in, over the once sleek coat, over the dulled eyes, the still shining nose, over the now flattened ears...
patting the last shovelful of earth into place, she straightened up and looked at the small mound. In a few weeks, weeds would grow over the wound of the soil, grass would thrive as the hound bled nutrients back to the earth, death making the patch of ground fertile again.
But she felt as if nothing would thrive in her heart again. Now, she had no-one...
and still dry eyed, she put the spade away, and attended to work and the tasks of the day, always aware of the lack of her hound at her heels.
And the sun rode across the skies and twilight came, before she allowed herself to stop for food.
Half eaten, she lifted the plate back through to the kitchen, and it wasn`t until she realised she was piling dog food into the bowl and reaching for the dog biscuits, that the tears came, hot and scalding and running down her cheeks and down onto her neck, and she leant upon the countertop and grieved, quietly but fiercely, for the loss of a friend.
Until the tears stopped....
and with a heavy weariness, she left the dishes in the sink, and unable to bear the silence of the empty house, she lifted her coat from the peg by the door and put it on as she began to walk down the track to the road, towards the shore.
Darkness fell quickly, but she needed no torch, a familiar road this was, and there was a moon, pale and bloated overhead, and she let her feet slip and slide over the stones and onto the hard sand of the beach.
Where before, she would have walked the length of the shoreline, collie chasing waves ahead or rabbits in the marram grass, she got a yard or so and felt it futile..what the hell was she doing here, this time of night anyway?
So she sat upon the sand, not minding the damp of it, and gazed at what she could see, out to the water where the moon laid a silver path, tiny waves dancing and shimmering softly.
An hour, perhaps, she sat there, and the moon shifted his own path across the waters, and she let her mind drift, through her worries, her cares, her hurts, through her memories, bright and dark, until she reached that quiet place where only a dull awareness exists.
And her grey eyes looked out, still, over the waters.
And watched, fully five minutes, the green glow of other eyes gaze back at hers, before what she saw registered, before awareness came back to her....
rising slowly, she walked toward the shoreline...the green eyes never wavered, but kept upon hers, just beneath the surface of the water...and fixed upon them, she reached the waveline and stopped, trying to see what lay beneath the waves, unable to see anything except those emerald seagreen eyes, watching, steady, not bobbing or flowing with the movement of water, but still beneath it`s surface.
One blink and they flickered...then slowly, with grace, a head rose from the water...a dark shock of hair, smooth pale skin, thin lipped, expressionless, only bright watching eyes alive in that face, watching her....
and that face moved forward, toward her and she saw strong shoulders, gills, and along the ridge of the back, spiked fins, glistening, shining soft and silken..webbed fingers pulled the figure forward toward her until he stood up from the waters, a naked, gilled, finned creature, human but not, of the sea depths, skin shining with iced and chilled droplets of water, and he walked toward her, not speaking, that strange, smooth, expressionless face, eyes on hers...
Maybe she dreamt? Maybe that was all that kept her there? Whatever it was, she wasn`t ready to be grasped and dragged into the bone biting cold of the ocean, the shock of the chill making her gasp and finally, cry out, trying to pull back, feeling the strength of that wet grip upon her arm, feeling the rush of water and the tug of current around her legs, then her hips....
Struggling, she tried with every ounce of strength to pull away, gasping with the cold of the water, panting with fear, sobbing to be away from this waking nightmare..but the creature walked on relentlessly, never releasing his grip, sliding through the water as if it were air, not heeding her cries nor struggles.
As she felt the weight of the water in her clothing, she felt the panic of approaching death, and drowning, and began to scream...
at that, the creature turned, and silenced her simply, by placing one webbed finger against his own lips...a shhussshhh.......
in shock, it worked...and as she quietened, he put that hand behind the back of her head, almost caressing her hair, and with one hand on her arm, the other behind her neck, he quickly sank, pulling her down with him....
(it`s still no` finished, sorry.)
Stretching, she got up, aware at once of the lack of her hound...no whine to be let out for the morning, no bright eyes staring frankly at her asking so blatantly for food, no skittering paws across the kitchen floor til she reached her dish and began to nose it across the tiles til it reached her feet...
That emptiness gave rise to such a fierce pang of loss...
swiftly, she saw to the other beasts, feeding, watering, tending, on autopilot, not chatting to them as she normally would whilst the hound ran around the field and byres investigating every new scent and every nook and cranny as she`d done the past hundred times...
Skipping breakfast, she changed her clothes and wrapped against the chill morning air, walked out the door and was about to set off down the track to the road when a tang of salt caught her and stayed her from taking another step..salt where there should be none. Outside her window...
Along the stone walkway that passed the length of the house, she walked to the window and stooped to lift a still damp piece of seaweed from the path...
fresh still, as if it had come straight from the sea...but how could it have gotten here..she was three quarters of a mile from the sea, with fields, a track and road between house and ocean...
And she looked, past the walkway, onto the lawn, seeing the trail of seaweed cross the grass, go through the rose hedge and beyond...
So, what to do, but follow the trail....
Only, whatever had made it must have been impervious to rose thorns, for she had to detour around the hedge, and climbed the fence into the field, picking up the weed as she went, not looking up, just lost in the strange fascination for a trail that shouldn`t be, here...
The seaweed stopped at the fields end beside the bottom of her track...puzzled, she looked around, seeking more, seeking a point to this...and doing so, a flash of black caught the corner of her eye...and running, dropping the bundle of weed, she reached the ditch and looked, her heart in her throat...
And let out a high keening, kneeling, for there in front of her was her beloved hound, a black and white, twisted and bloody mess....
Dry eyed and pale, she lifted the body of the collie out of the ditch, stiff and unyielding, and laid it on the grass before her.
Whilst part of her mind grieved for the loss of her hound, her friend, her eyes saw the injuries, those inflicted, so obviously, by a passing car, too swift to stop and too uncaring to return and pick up the collie, look for the owner.
Carrying the body of the hound home, she never saw the eyes within the waves watch her progress, never saw the slice of fin cut the waves, never saw the shifting shadows under the water as they followed her progress slowly up the track, around the corner, and into one of the byres...
In the gloom of the byre she laid the hound down, gently, on the straw covered floor. Motes of dust spun lazily in the light filtered through the beams overhead, glittering and sparkling as they landed on the dirty, bloody coat of the hound.
She felt empty. All night..all night the collie had lain in that ditch...had she suffered? Was she killed outright? All night...as she had lain with her head on her arms, dreaming of seafolks and strange glowing eyes...
Moving heavily, dry eyed, she draped a barley feed bag over the body and went to fetch the spade.
It took her an hour to dig, in the stony soil of the garden, a space big enough for the hound. By that time, the haar had risen from the sea and rolled across the island, and she shivered in the chill without realising.
She planted the spade in the soil beside the hole and went to fetch the hound.
Wrapped in the barley bag, she carried the hound out to the garden with difficulty...bumping into the doorway of the byre and those to the outside with a grisly knock of paw against wood, claw scraping like it never would again, upon the tiles of the kitchen floor...
She laid the hound in the grave, and turned the collies face to the North, 91热爆, and clipped a few strands from the rose hedge to lay upon the still bloody coat...and without even thinking,nor aware of passing time, she shovelled the dirt back in, over the once sleek coat, over the dulled eyes, the still shining nose, over the now flattened ears...
patting the last shovelful of earth into place, she straightened up and looked at the small mound. In a few weeks, weeds would grow over the wound of the soil, grass would thrive as the hound bled nutrients back to the earth, death making the patch of ground fertile again.
But she felt as if nothing would thrive in her heart again. Now, she had no-one...
and still dry eyed, she put the spade away, and attended to work and the tasks of the day, always aware of the lack of her hound at her heels.
And the sun rode across the skies and twilight came, before she allowed herself to stop for food.
Half eaten, she lifted the plate back through to the kitchen, and it wasn`t until she realised she was piling dog food into the bowl and reaching for the dog biscuits, that the tears came, hot and scalding and running down her cheeks and down onto her neck, and she leant upon the countertop and grieved, quietly but fiercely, for the loss of a friend.
Until the tears stopped....
and with a heavy weariness, she left the dishes in the sink, and unable to bear the silence of the empty house, she lifted her coat from the peg by the door and put it on as she began to walk down the track to the road, towards the shore.
Darkness fell quickly, but she needed no torch, a familiar road this was, and there was a moon, pale and bloated overhead, and she let her feet slip and slide over the stones and onto the hard sand of the beach.
Where before, she would have walked the length of the shoreline, collie chasing waves ahead or rabbits in the marram grass, she got a yard or so and felt it futile..what the hell was she doing here, this time of night anyway?
So she sat upon the sand, not minding the damp of it, and gazed at what she could see, out to the water where the moon laid a silver path, tiny waves dancing and shimmering softly.
An hour, perhaps, she sat there, and the moon shifted his own path across the waters, and she let her mind drift, through her worries, her cares, her hurts, through her memories, bright and dark, until she reached that quiet place where only a dull awareness exists.
And her grey eyes looked out, still, over the waters.
And watched, fully five minutes, the green glow of other eyes gaze back at hers, before what she saw registered, before awareness came back to her....
rising slowly, she walked toward the shoreline...the green eyes never wavered, but kept upon hers, just beneath the surface of the water...and fixed upon them, she reached the waveline and stopped, trying to see what lay beneath the waves, unable to see anything except those emerald seagreen eyes, watching, steady, not bobbing or flowing with the movement of water, but still beneath it`s surface.
One blink and they flickered...then slowly, with grace, a head rose from the water...a dark shock of hair, smooth pale skin, thin lipped, expressionless, only bright watching eyes alive in that face, watching her....
and that face moved forward, toward her and she saw strong shoulders, gills, and along the ridge of the back, spiked fins, glistening, shining soft and silken..webbed fingers pulled the figure forward toward her until he stood up from the waters, a naked, gilled, finned creature, human but not, of the sea depths, skin shining with iced and chilled droplets of water, and he walked toward her, not speaking, that strange, smooth, expressionless face, eyes on hers...
Maybe she dreamt? Maybe that was all that kept her there? Whatever it was, she wasn`t ready to be grasped and dragged into the bone biting cold of the ocean, the shock of the chill making her gasp and finally, cry out, trying to pull back, feeling the strength of that wet grip upon her arm, feeling the rush of water and the tug of current around her legs, then her hips....
Struggling, she tried with every ounce of strength to pull away, gasping with the cold of the water, panting with fear, sobbing to be away from this waking nightmare..but the creature walked on relentlessly, never releasing his grip, sliding through the water as if it were air, not heeding her cries nor struggles.
As she felt the weight of the water in her clothing, she felt the panic of approaching death, and drowning, and began to scream...
at that, the creature turned, and silenced her simply, by placing one webbed finger against his own lips...a shhussshhh.......
in shock, it worked...and as she quietened, he put that hand behind the back of her head, almost caressing her hair, and with one hand on her arm, the other behind her neck, he quickly sank, pulling her down with him....
(it`s still no` finished, sorry.)
Posted on Hermit Life at 18:39
Sea Story Part Three
Posted: Tuesday, 13 May 2008 |
A cold, wet nose brushed her own....in her mind she thought, as she had so many mornings before, "Get off, hound!" and opened her eyes to smile at the eager dog waking her to be let out at some unearthly morning hour...
and froze in terror....no sunlight, here, no down filled quilt to cower under, nothing of her own familiar bedroom.....
A corpse-green light pervaded all she saw and in an instant she recognised being deep underwater. Instinct made her immediately hold her breath, arms flailing in blind panic, and she tried to swin upward and got a scant few feet but no more...looking down, lungs burning now, she saw weed wrapped around her feet, as if they had been tied together and bound to the slurry of the sea bed.
In her panic she never saw, at first, the seals, all she could think of was trying to hold her breath as long as possible as she struggled to bend and wrestle with the weed, which slipped through her clumsy fingers and eluded her grasp...sparks of light began to bloom in her sight, her lungs felt as if they were blowing up and swelling in her chest, burning, her heartbeat thudded in the pain of her head and she let go the weed and thought, I should stop, if this is it, if this is drowning, should stop.....and she floated, gently, sight fading as she began to black out.....
she closed her eyes, waiting for the end, feeling she could never hold her breath much longer...
A bump on her nose, soft but insistent, opened them again, and she looked into the deep brown eyes of her hound...but no...no...not a hound, a seal, and it kept bumping her, touching her nose, bumping her belly, her arm, until it lowered its head and swam into her belly again, with a sharp knock, forcing her mouth open, and she breathed....
and as she did so, water rushed into her lungs, and in the mindlessness of thought she believed the end was now, and it wasn`t so bad really, no more pain, she couldn`t even feel her lungs fill, and a strange kind of peace began in her, flowing out of its own accord to meet the waters flowing in, a euphoria that sharpened her sight so that she saw past the depths of the dark and took account of the creatures there, the finned, gilled seafolks, the seals, the myriad fish of kinds she`d never seen near the shore of the land....colours bloomed and glowed in that sight, gentle lights pulsed and quickened before darkening again, forests of weed waved in currents she felt along every inch of her body....
And she waited, for death to come.....and she waited, for death to come....and she waited....
and was watched by the creatures and watched back as seals swam around her, seeming to dance and play, one, smooth, sleek and playful swimming circles around her legs and body...
her body...which was now naked as the day she was born!
She giggled..and saw bubbles dance from her mouth....maybe she was hallucinating, as she died...maybe this was drowning, some kind of water-madness.....
she looked down at herself....her hands spread out before her, webbing between fingers, skin that looked smooth....and faintly green.....and watched as one of the other seafolk, the same `man` who had brought her here, reached down and with a sharp talon sliced through the weed that bound her feet...and she moved free, though the water, like air, like flying, not feeling the slightest drag of it upon her, webbed feet ruddering her way, til she moved closer to the seafolk and stopped...and turned, slowly around, just looking, barely thinking, afraid to think in case she came to the realisation she might be mad after all, or that this was some kind of strange afterworld given to dead islanders....
The water..she could see it...it moved and shifted around her, light from very far above filtered down and shone like sunbeams did on the upground....currents passed by carrying bubbles and heat and strange, ethereal creatures that swam and ate from them....
But she did not feel it, she may as well have been aboveground, because this, now, to her, was like air.....
The seafolk began to move away, swimming with grace and ease, and the one who had untied her gripped her arm briefly, pointing to follow, and so she did...
cities lay under the ocean, ancient and vast, pillars of stone uneroded by time and wave and she glimpsed busts of long gone emperors and kings, and amid some of these ruins lay wrecks, skeletons of ships the like of which had not been seen by her generation before, stark and barnacle covered things, crusted, like jewels...but still recognisable ships....
and more modern vessels lay, too, and she read names painted, bright still upon their hulls, and one or two, she recognised, and remembered....
They followed a definate route...for all the ocean looked `empty` there were roads there under the currents, though she didn`t recognise their markers, but felt them, felt the routes she took like some strange kind of homing beacon....
A great vast darkness up ahead.....a cavern so enormous she was not sure she could see the edges of it....inside, light points flickered and glimmered....the seafolks ahead of her quickened their swimming and she kicked feet and undulated body to keep up, a subconsciously now-natural motion to her, and swam into that darkness with her new companions....
(still going, if that`s ok?)
and froze in terror....no sunlight, here, no down filled quilt to cower under, nothing of her own familiar bedroom.....
A corpse-green light pervaded all she saw and in an instant she recognised being deep underwater. Instinct made her immediately hold her breath, arms flailing in blind panic, and she tried to swin upward and got a scant few feet but no more...looking down, lungs burning now, she saw weed wrapped around her feet, as if they had been tied together and bound to the slurry of the sea bed.
In her panic she never saw, at first, the seals, all she could think of was trying to hold her breath as long as possible as she struggled to bend and wrestle with the weed, which slipped through her clumsy fingers and eluded her grasp...sparks of light began to bloom in her sight, her lungs felt as if they were blowing up and swelling in her chest, burning, her heartbeat thudded in the pain of her head and she let go the weed and thought, I should stop, if this is it, if this is drowning, should stop.....and she floated, gently, sight fading as she began to black out.....
she closed her eyes, waiting for the end, feeling she could never hold her breath much longer...
A bump on her nose, soft but insistent, opened them again, and she looked into the deep brown eyes of her hound...but no...no...not a hound, a seal, and it kept bumping her, touching her nose, bumping her belly, her arm, until it lowered its head and swam into her belly again, with a sharp knock, forcing her mouth open, and she breathed....
and as she did so, water rushed into her lungs, and in the mindlessness of thought she believed the end was now, and it wasn`t so bad really, no more pain, she couldn`t even feel her lungs fill, and a strange kind of peace began in her, flowing out of its own accord to meet the waters flowing in, a euphoria that sharpened her sight so that she saw past the depths of the dark and took account of the creatures there, the finned, gilled seafolks, the seals, the myriad fish of kinds she`d never seen near the shore of the land....colours bloomed and glowed in that sight, gentle lights pulsed and quickened before darkening again, forests of weed waved in currents she felt along every inch of her body....
And she waited, for death to come.....and she waited, for death to come....and she waited....
and was watched by the creatures and watched back as seals swam around her, seeming to dance and play, one, smooth, sleek and playful swimming circles around her legs and body...
her body...which was now naked as the day she was born!
She giggled..and saw bubbles dance from her mouth....maybe she was hallucinating, as she died...maybe this was drowning, some kind of water-madness.....
she looked down at herself....her hands spread out before her, webbing between fingers, skin that looked smooth....and faintly green.....and watched as one of the other seafolk, the same `man` who had brought her here, reached down and with a sharp talon sliced through the weed that bound her feet...and she moved free, though the water, like air, like flying, not feeling the slightest drag of it upon her, webbed feet ruddering her way, til she moved closer to the seafolk and stopped...and turned, slowly around, just looking, barely thinking, afraid to think in case she came to the realisation she might be mad after all, or that this was some kind of strange afterworld given to dead islanders....
The water..she could see it...it moved and shifted around her, light from very far above filtered down and shone like sunbeams did on the upground....currents passed by carrying bubbles and heat and strange, ethereal creatures that swam and ate from them....
But she did not feel it, she may as well have been aboveground, because this, now, to her, was like air.....
The seafolk began to move away, swimming with grace and ease, and the one who had untied her gripped her arm briefly, pointing to follow, and so she did...
cities lay under the ocean, ancient and vast, pillars of stone uneroded by time and wave and she glimpsed busts of long gone emperors and kings, and amid some of these ruins lay wrecks, skeletons of ships the like of which had not been seen by her generation before, stark and barnacle covered things, crusted, like jewels...but still recognisable ships....
and more modern vessels lay, too, and she read names painted, bright still upon their hulls, and one or two, she recognised, and remembered....
They followed a definate route...for all the ocean looked `empty` there were roads there under the currents, though she didn`t recognise their markers, but felt them, felt the routes she took like some strange kind of homing beacon....
A great vast darkness up ahead.....a cavern so enormous she was not sure she could see the edges of it....inside, light points flickered and glimmered....the seafolks ahead of her quickened their swimming and she kicked feet and undulated body to keep up, a subconsciously now-natural motion to her, and swam into that darkness with her new companions....
(still going, if that`s ok?)
Posted on Hermit Life at 18:29
What To Do When Ye Should Be Working...
Posted: Wednesday, 14 May 2008 |
I should blush in shame...but won`t...I LOVE archery! It`s that time of year again, when I can get ootside, shoot at things besides cars, and not have the wind make me arrows end up on Stronsay......:D
Posted on Hermit Life at 13:34
Sea Story Part 4
Posted: Friday, 16 May 2008 |
At first, the darkness engulfed her, and only the awareness of those swimming around her kept her moving....she could feel the water eddying and swirling around them, could follow their progress ahead and around by this, like some strange kind of sonar...and as they glided forwards, the dark began to recede, dimly, soft green light like an underwater sunrise growing steadily, and her newly sharpened sight began to see what lay around her.....
and in awe...she stopped swimming, and hung there, suspended in the water, gawping like a child at the stars....
She was in some kind of cavern..could dimly make out the roof of it overhead, far overhead....points of light strewn across the surface of the rock face, hung like chinese lanterns, coloured, bright, pretty....she saw some of these move and dart off and realised they were fish, sea creatures, pulsing gently with their own inner light.....
near the base of the cavern walls, which stretched into a vast distance, cave entrances beckoned, and light glowed, also, softly, from within these, and she watched the finned creatures, the seafolks, enter and leave, for all the world like to citizens of an upground town going about their business....unheeding of her, the stranger in their midst, staring rudely like a common tourist....
The finman touched her arm again, lightly, and waited, then kicked his feet ahead and beckoned her to follow, and she did, her eyes picking out details, captured images she knew she would never forget....seachildren, playing like upground children, chase, but swimming and twisting, turning and darting quickly out of reach...one of them saw her looking and giggled liquidly at her, bubbling the water with mirth....
So many fish, so many kinds she had never seen upground in book or documentary, and she knew instinctively these would never come to light, and perhaps only deep sea fishermen would ever catch the merest glimpse of these creatures and keep alive the tales of `monsters` in the deep....
but they weren`t monsters....and though some of them defied belief, having no discernible shape or form, shifting and changing with each glance, they moved with great grace and ease in this, their natural element...
And she saw structures, made structures....pillars of stone, culled from the sunken worlds, put together with no obvious function except aesthetics, jarring metal beams garnered from sunken ships, laid out like church arches and strewn with weed of many colours, drifting in the currents like banners....
Swimming close to some of the cave entrances she saw they were decorated too...and gasped at the things used to do so....ancient gold coins glinted around doorways, glowing softly in the phosphorescent light, jewels the size of her fist set among broken pieces of old chinese pottery, a mish mash of decor that looked rich, meant to be, brought together for beauty alone, with no thought of wealth or posession....only, simply, pretty things to look at....old chests lay outside some of these doorways, curved lids open, iron banding rusted, filled with shells and pebbles and chunks of coral, spiked and gorgeously, richly coloured....
When the finman touched her shoulder again she knew she had stopped to stare...looking at him, she saw humour in his green eyes, an understanding, and blushing, she followed again the path he swam...
At the base of the biggest marble pillar she had seen, he stopped and turned to look at her...this was no normal pillar...it wasn`t straight but curved and looked to have been carved at some point, and disappeared into the sandy bottom of the cavern floor....she swam close to it....no..it wasn`t marble...barnacles grew upon it, wisps of weed fluttered from it, and she put out a hand to touch the surface of it....and darted back in fright as the pillar moved, slowly, throwing up clouds of silt and sand as a giant foot lifted from beneath.....
and she swam backwards, afraid, hands pedalling the water as quickly as she could, until she could see...and look upwards....
the pillar was indeed, a leg...the carving, the strong, supple muscle of a calf, and the foot shook itself gently to rid the toes of silt, murking the waters for a moment..
her eyes sought upward and she followed the form of the pillar, seeing the blodk of rock beyond it, the largest seat she had ever seen, the muscular thighs resting upon it, the taughtness of a belly and the muscle of a strong, breathing chest....
a curl of beard hiding a thick neck, and high, high above her, sharp cheeks and the hollows in which eyes were set, and turning, now, towards her.....
A crowd of seafolk had gathered around her, the finchildren darting around her legs, tugging her hair, her hands, pulling her up toward that terrifying face....
the vastness of this creature awed her, numbed her mind, made her wonder if, once more, she had died, and this was the afterworld, or if she was still in the throes of drowning, and this was some deep water rapture....
she felt hands around her waist, strong, webbed hands, and the body of her finman behind her, supporting her, guiding her upwards until she came to be in front of that giant, enigmatic face...
As a child, she had read books, of Poseidon, of Neptune, of Aegir...gods of the sea, powerful, capricious, titanic....all of those, this creature was....hair that looked as if it had been carved from driftwood curled around his shoulders, cheeks that were sharp and strong shadowed eyes that were deepset and....blank.......no pupils dilated or looked outward....no coloured irises enlivened those eyes....only white blankness lived there...yet she knew he saw....and that he looked at her....and a chill of absolute terror froze her in place, for that gaze captured her and held her prisoner more than the thickest chains could have...
Muscle like carved marble shifted and moved like liquid, and he raised an arm, creating currents and swirls of water in which the finchildren danced and darted, and unfurling giant fingers, he held open a palm...and let the children settle there, and thin stone lips curved into a gentle smile as they bestowed little kisses upon the giant fingers and held onto the hand, pretending to swing from each finger, chasing one another along the length of a forearm, and back, to settle and sit upon the palm....
The massive head turned, slightly, and the other arm outstretched and once more, a great hand unfurled, but this time no finchild came near, none of the seafolk did, except her finman, using his hands around her waist to guide her to it.....
So it was, with blank, pale, seeing eyes upon her, she stood upon that giant palm and waited....
The cavern, the finfolk, the lights and creatures all vanished in an instant from her sight. Her minds eye took over and flickering visions of unknown events flashed over her mind and she shuddered at the intensity and speed of them....they slowed...and she watched the story of this underwater king unfold, of his deeds....saw the dichotomy of this being..saw the benevolence which kept his finfolk from the prying eyes of the upworlds, which kept evils of the far deep from their doors, which assured them plenty, make for them a haven and gifted them a lifespan of almost eternity.....
saw too, the destructive force of an angry god, of the whim of tidal waves which took islands under the sea, stole cities to drown them in a fury of temper and spleen,...saw anger at the greed of ships which cast vast nets that snagged upon coral, upon ancient wrecks, upon seafolk., upon creatures that lived in the depths and would die in the harshness of sunlight....saw a giant hand reach up and grip the hull of a ship, crush it with ease, drag it under, cast it like matchwood into the sea silt...troublesome no more....
she watched a history of humankind where appeasement was offered, gold cast overside for safe journeys in chancy waters and winter storms, saw the blood of sacrifice drifting down into the deep, bloated, scarlet, gifted to a temperamental, judgemental god, the corpse of the slain leaving his bones behind to fertilise the sea earth.
She watched time pass, civilisations be stolen by the encroaching, changing, sea levels, heard temple bells toll beneath the waves, ghostly, haunting thosoe upground still....watched lava erupt from the seabed to spew its heat and rock above, replacing lost worlds, creating new landscapes, watched this giant creature as he himself watched with cool detachment the unfolding, shifting face of the earth over aeons of time...
Her finman snatched her upwards, away, before the hard fingers closed around her legs....the giant hand withdrew, the muscular arm retracted and the fingers once more rested upon a massive thigh, though she saw the finchildren play, still, upon the other hand.
Those blank, staring eyes withdrew from hers and the head turned back to the children and once more, the lips curved in a smile, soft, wistful.....
Her legs trembled..her mind retaining all she had seen, struggling to make sense of it all...the finman held her waist still and guided her back down, far down, to the cavern floor, holding her safely, letting her drift with him, until they settled and stood, firm, not floating, not swimming, standing.
Her tears added to the salt of the ocean, unnoticed. This..this was too much....this was the fairy tale she would have read as a child, tucked up safe in bed, before dreaming of playing with seahorses as a mermaid....this...this couldn`t be real...
But he held her head in his hands and gently brought his forehead to touch hers, and she was forced to close her eyes as softer, dimmer visions invaded her mind once more....
And she saw her hound, full of life, sniffing and shuffling through the marram grass of the shore, saw her catch sight of the white target of a rabbit tail, saw her take off and chase, oblivious to anything except the hunt, and across the road, and not seeing the car, the speeding car that hit her, throwing her into the ditch, a soft yelp of pain, a whimper, then darkness as consciousness left....
saw the finned creature leave the water, ungainly on land, as if air pressed heavily upon him, careful to keep from her sight...watched as he reached the hound and, seeing death near, reached webbed hands into the body of the collie as if passing through mist, reaching for the soul of the beast, carrying the precious cargo back to the shore, gratefully sinking into the waves, down, beneath the sea....
and the hound, unfeeling, died alone in the ditch, unnoticed....
but she watched as the green eyed finman held, carefully in his hands, a point of glowing light, and watched as, the deeper he went, the larger the light grew, taking form, liquid brown eyes, damp inquisitive nose, whiskers, sleek brown coat, taking form that befitted the water roads, streamlined and graceful....and letting go, he let the seal swim free.....
With a gasp she opened her eyes, moved back, breaking contact...the seal who had bumped her, who nose she had felt that woke her to this dreaming world....her hound? Her hound.......?
Thin lips smiled soft in an unlined face, green eyes confirmed what she knew.....
Only one more to go, then that`s it! Yup, I know, total, unashamed flight of fancy there. :D
and in awe...she stopped swimming, and hung there, suspended in the water, gawping like a child at the stars....
She was in some kind of cavern..could dimly make out the roof of it overhead, far overhead....points of light strewn across the surface of the rock face, hung like chinese lanterns, coloured, bright, pretty....she saw some of these move and dart off and realised they were fish, sea creatures, pulsing gently with their own inner light.....
near the base of the cavern walls, which stretched into a vast distance, cave entrances beckoned, and light glowed, also, softly, from within these, and she watched the finned creatures, the seafolks, enter and leave, for all the world like to citizens of an upground town going about their business....unheeding of her, the stranger in their midst, staring rudely like a common tourist....
The finman touched her arm again, lightly, and waited, then kicked his feet ahead and beckoned her to follow, and she did, her eyes picking out details, captured images she knew she would never forget....seachildren, playing like upground children, chase, but swimming and twisting, turning and darting quickly out of reach...one of them saw her looking and giggled liquidly at her, bubbling the water with mirth....
So many fish, so many kinds she had never seen upground in book or documentary, and she knew instinctively these would never come to light, and perhaps only deep sea fishermen would ever catch the merest glimpse of these creatures and keep alive the tales of `monsters` in the deep....
but they weren`t monsters....and though some of them defied belief, having no discernible shape or form, shifting and changing with each glance, they moved with great grace and ease in this, their natural element...
And she saw structures, made structures....pillars of stone, culled from the sunken worlds, put together with no obvious function except aesthetics, jarring metal beams garnered from sunken ships, laid out like church arches and strewn with weed of many colours, drifting in the currents like banners....
Swimming close to some of the cave entrances she saw they were decorated too...and gasped at the things used to do so....ancient gold coins glinted around doorways, glowing softly in the phosphorescent light, jewels the size of her fist set among broken pieces of old chinese pottery, a mish mash of decor that looked rich, meant to be, brought together for beauty alone, with no thought of wealth or posession....only, simply, pretty things to look at....old chests lay outside some of these doorways, curved lids open, iron banding rusted, filled with shells and pebbles and chunks of coral, spiked and gorgeously, richly coloured....
When the finman touched her shoulder again she knew she had stopped to stare...looking at him, she saw humour in his green eyes, an understanding, and blushing, she followed again the path he swam...
At the base of the biggest marble pillar she had seen, he stopped and turned to look at her...this was no normal pillar...it wasn`t straight but curved and looked to have been carved at some point, and disappeared into the sandy bottom of the cavern floor....she swam close to it....no..it wasn`t marble...barnacles grew upon it, wisps of weed fluttered from it, and she put out a hand to touch the surface of it....and darted back in fright as the pillar moved, slowly, throwing up clouds of silt and sand as a giant foot lifted from beneath.....
and she swam backwards, afraid, hands pedalling the water as quickly as she could, until she could see...and look upwards....
the pillar was indeed, a leg...the carving, the strong, supple muscle of a calf, and the foot shook itself gently to rid the toes of silt, murking the waters for a moment..
her eyes sought upward and she followed the form of the pillar, seeing the blodk of rock beyond it, the largest seat she had ever seen, the muscular thighs resting upon it, the taughtness of a belly and the muscle of a strong, breathing chest....
a curl of beard hiding a thick neck, and high, high above her, sharp cheeks and the hollows in which eyes were set, and turning, now, towards her.....
A crowd of seafolk had gathered around her, the finchildren darting around her legs, tugging her hair, her hands, pulling her up toward that terrifying face....
the vastness of this creature awed her, numbed her mind, made her wonder if, once more, she had died, and this was the afterworld, or if she was still in the throes of drowning, and this was some deep water rapture....
she felt hands around her waist, strong, webbed hands, and the body of her finman behind her, supporting her, guiding her upwards until she came to be in front of that giant, enigmatic face...
As a child, she had read books, of Poseidon, of Neptune, of Aegir...gods of the sea, powerful, capricious, titanic....all of those, this creature was....hair that looked as if it had been carved from driftwood curled around his shoulders, cheeks that were sharp and strong shadowed eyes that were deepset and....blank.......no pupils dilated or looked outward....no coloured irises enlivened those eyes....only white blankness lived there...yet she knew he saw....and that he looked at her....and a chill of absolute terror froze her in place, for that gaze captured her and held her prisoner more than the thickest chains could have...
Muscle like carved marble shifted and moved like liquid, and he raised an arm, creating currents and swirls of water in which the finchildren danced and darted, and unfurling giant fingers, he held open a palm...and let the children settle there, and thin stone lips curved into a gentle smile as they bestowed little kisses upon the giant fingers and held onto the hand, pretending to swing from each finger, chasing one another along the length of a forearm, and back, to settle and sit upon the palm....
The massive head turned, slightly, and the other arm outstretched and once more, a great hand unfurled, but this time no finchild came near, none of the seafolk did, except her finman, using his hands around her waist to guide her to it.....
So it was, with blank, pale, seeing eyes upon her, she stood upon that giant palm and waited....
The cavern, the finfolk, the lights and creatures all vanished in an instant from her sight. Her minds eye took over and flickering visions of unknown events flashed over her mind and she shuddered at the intensity and speed of them....they slowed...and she watched the story of this underwater king unfold, of his deeds....saw the dichotomy of this being..saw the benevolence which kept his finfolk from the prying eyes of the upworlds, which kept evils of the far deep from their doors, which assured them plenty, make for them a haven and gifted them a lifespan of almost eternity.....
saw too, the destructive force of an angry god, of the whim of tidal waves which took islands under the sea, stole cities to drown them in a fury of temper and spleen,...saw anger at the greed of ships which cast vast nets that snagged upon coral, upon ancient wrecks, upon seafolk., upon creatures that lived in the depths and would die in the harshness of sunlight....saw a giant hand reach up and grip the hull of a ship, crush it with ease, drag it under, cast it like matchwood into the sea silt...troublesome no more....
she watched a history of humankind where appeasement was offered, gold cast overside for safe journeys in chancy waters and winter storms, saw the blood of sacrifice drifting down into the deep, bloated, scarlet, gifted to a temperamental, judgemental god, the corpse of the slain leaving his bones behind to fertilise the sea earth.
She watched time pass, civilisations be stolen by the encroaching, changing, sea levels, heard temple bells toll beneath the waves, ghostly, haunting thosoe upground still....watched lava erupt from the seabed to spew its heat and rock above, replacing lost worlds, creating new landscapes, watched this giant creature as he himself watched with cool detachment the unfolding, shifting face of the earth over aeons of time...
Her finman snatched her upwards, away, before the hard fingers closed around her legs....the giant hand withdrew, the muscular arm retracted and the fingers once more rested upon a massive thigh, though she saw the finchildren play, still, upon the other hand.
Those blank, staring eyes withdrew from hers and the head turned back to the children and once more, the lips curved in a smile, soft, wistful.....
Her legs trembled..her mind retaining all she had seen, struggling to make sense of it all...the finman held her waist still and guided her back down, far down, to the cavern floor, holding her safely, letting her drift with him, until they settled and stood, firm, not floating, not swimming, standing.
Her tears added to the salt of the ocean, unnoticed. This..this was too much....this was the fairy tale she would have read as a child, tucked up safe in bed, before dreaming of playing with seahorses as a mermaid....this...this couldn`t be real...
But he held her head in his hands and gently brought his forehead to touch hers, and she was forced to close her eyes as softer, dimmer visions invaded her mind once more....
And she saw her hound, full of life, sniffing and shuffling through the marram grass of the shore, saw her catch sight of the white target of a rabbit tail, saw her take off and chase, oblivious to anything except the hunt, and across the road, and not seeing the car, the speeding car that hit her, throwing her into the ditch, a soft yelp of pain, a whimper, then darkness as consciousness left....
saw the finned creature leave the water, ungainly on land, as if air pressed heavily upon him, careful to keep from her sight...watched as he reached the hound and, seeing death near, reached webbed hands into the body of the collie as if passing through mist, reaching for the soul of the beast, carrying the precious cargo back to the shore, gratefully sinking into the waves, down, beneath the sea....
and the hound, unfeeling, died alone in the ditch, unnoticed....
but she watched as the green eyed finman held, carefully in his hands, a point of glowing light, and watched as, the deeper he went, the larger the light grew, taking form, liquid brown eyes, damp inquisitive nose, whiskers, sleek brown coat, taking form that befitted the water roads, streamlined and graceful....and letting go, he let the seal swim free.....
With a gasp she opened her eyes, moved back, breaking contact...the seal who had bumped her, who nose she had felt that woke her to this dreaming world....her hound? Her hound.......?
Thin lips smiled soft in an unlined face, green eyes confirmed what she knew.....
Only one more to go, then that`s it! Yup, I know, total, unashamed flight of fancy there. :D
Posted on Hermit Life at 08:15
Sea Story, Last Bit....
Posted: Monday, 19 May 2008 |
Her eyelids flickered, open a little, flickered shut again, too tired, too heavy......and she slept a little longer....
Only the cold seeping into her bones woke her fully and groggy, befuddled, mindless..she looked around at what she could see, in this darkness...
Her clothes had become heavy, waterlogged, and she shivered uncontrollably in the chill night air....
Waves of dizziness overtook her, made her stagger as she tried to stand, the skies above spinning wildly, seeming strange and alien, and vast, far too vast and distant....the air burned her lungs, and she coughed, coughed til she was blue with it, gasping...
A part of her mind seemed to remember nights when she knew in her heart she could reach up, touch the stars if she wished....
but not now.
She was on the beach, water lapping at her ankles and her boots, her clothes sodden and heavy and gritty with sand.
Standing, finally, she waited for the sickening dizziness to subside before staggering forward to the stones that met the single track road...
Images...dreams...swam through her mind....and as quickly as they surfaced, she banished them..too painful to remember those, too hurtful a thing to believe, because...because she wanted to....
She didn`t remember the walk up the track and into the house...the first light of dawn was washing the East with milk when she entered, ran herself a hot bath and still shivering, sank into it, clothes and all, to warm herself...
The ache of cold gradually left her bones, her muscles, and she laid back in the water, and closed her eyes..and wept...and wept...and wept.....
If it had been only a mad dream..if she had truly tried to take her own life by walking into the sea, and that was some kind of rapture given to those who did so....she wanted it back....
When she could cry no more, she left the bath, not caring that she trailed a river of water through the house, into the bedroom, where she dried herself and put on warm, old, comforting clothes...
Sitting at the table by the window, she watched the day come alive...the sun rose, as always....the greenery outside became deeper, lusher...birds flew and chattered...she watched tractors set to work in nearby fields...saw fishing boats leave the harbour and head out to creels...
and noticed none of it...blind seeing.....
Her days blended, one into the other, a routine of work, tending her livestock, and falling into bed at night, exhausted, deliberately so, blotting out dreams of deep green eyes, shimmering liquid landscapes, tolling bells, seals......
And if, in her mind, she yearned to walk into that place again, the mundanities of life kept her earthbound, and in time, she began to remember without the pain, and in time, she cherished the memories, and was able, even, to walk back to the shore, always in daylight though...and watch the seals bob up from the waves, watching her watch them, before they barked and vanished beneath the waves, dark flowing streaks, quick and graceful....
but none of them had the eyes of her hound.....
and no emerald green eyes followed her progress along the shoreline....
Winter came, and it became too dangerous to visit the shore...she hugged her stove, listening to the wind howl and batter doors and windows, shrieking like the banshee, prying for a way in.
A pot of coffee atop the stove fragranced the room and bubbled quietly.
The old clock on the bookshelp ticked but could not be heard above the wind...yet, she heard the knock at the door...
Rising, she unbolted the door and struggled to hold onto the handle as the greedy wind tried to steal the door, frame and all, from her grip...she had to squint her eyes against the wind to see, in the dark, who was out there....only a hooded shape, holding a bundle of cloth....
A man...
He said something but she couldn`t hear...so beckoning him in, she let him walk past her and put her shoulder to the door, slamming it against the outside and throwing the bolt over to secure it...
panting with effort, she turned to see.....
He lifted the hood free. Emerald green eyes met hers and smiled.
Pale skin glowed, not green tinged but for all that, a stranger to sunlight...
In his arms the bundle of dark cloth wriggled and whimpered...and smiling a thin lipped smile, he lifted the corner of the cloth away.
A bundle of black and white, little white paws, black shiny nose, ears pricked and curious, tongue lolling, pink and dripping....a tail wagged furiously as the pup saw her and as it wriggled the more, he held it out to her....
Taking the tiny hound in her arms, she suffered her face licked, dog drool and wet nose across cheeks and eyelids, puppy breath in her nose, and she looked into deep brown collie eyes, bright and intelligent, knowing and sure....
And emerald eyes smiled into hers as he sat at the table near the window and watched the woman hug an old, well remembered friend.....
Only the cold seeping into her bones woke her fully and groggy, befuddled, mindless..she looked around at what she could see, in this darkness...
Her clothes had become heavy, waterlogged, and she shivered uncontrollably in the chill night air....
Waves of dizziness overtook her, made her stagger as she tried to stand, the skies above spinning wildly, seeming strange and alien, and vast, far too vast and distant....the air burned her lungs, and she coughed, coughed til she was blue with it, gasping...
A part of her mind seemed to remember nights when she knew in her heart she could reach up, touch the stars if she wished....
but not now.
She was on the beach, water lapping at her ankles and her boots, her clothes sodden and heavy and gritty with sand.
Standing, finally, she waited for the sickening dizziness to subside before staggering forward to the stones that met the single track road...
Images...dreams...swam through her mind....and as quickly as they surfaced, she banished them..too painful to remember those, too hurtful a thing to believe, because...because she wanted to....
She didn`t remember the walk up the track and into the house...the first light of dawn was washing the East with milk when she entered, ran herself a hot bath and still shivering, sank into it, clothes and all, to warm herself...
The ache of cold gradually left her bones, her muscles, and she laid back in the water, and closed her eyes..and wept...and wept...and wept.....
If it had been only a mad dream..if she had truly tried to take her own life by walking into the sea, and that was some kind of rapture given to those who did so....she wanted it back....
When she could cry no more, she left the bath, not caring that she trailed a river of water through the house, into the bedroom, where she dried herself and put on warm, old, comforting clothes...
Sitting at the table by the window, she watched the day come alive...the sun rose, as always....the greenery outside became deeper, lusher...birds flew and chattered...she watched tractors set to work in nearby fields...saw fishing boats leave the harbour and head out to creels...
and noticed none of it...blind seeing.....
Her days blended, one into the other, a routine of work, tending her livestock, and falling into bed at night, exhausted, deliberately so, blotting out dreams of deep green eyes, shimmering liquid landscapes, tolling bells, seals......
And if, in her mind, she yearned to walk into that place again, the mundanities of life kept her earthbound, and in time, she began to remember without the pain, and in time, she cherished the memories, and was able, even, to walk back to the shore, always in daylight though...and watch the seals bob up from the waves, watching her watch them, before they barked and vanished beneath the waves, dark flowing streaks, quick and graceful....
but none of them had the eyes of her hound.....
and no emerald green eyes followed her progress along the shoreline....
Winter came, and it became too dangerous to visit the shore...she hugged her stove, listening to the wind howl and batter doors and windows, shrieking like the banshee, prying for a way in.
A pot of coffee atop the stove fragranced the room and bubbled quietly.
The old clock on the bookshelp ticked but could not be heard above the wind...yet, she heard the knock at the door...
Rising, she unbolted the door and struggled to hold onto the handle as the greedy wind tried to steal the door, frame and all, from her grip...she had to squint her eyes against the wind to see, in the dark, who was out there....only a hooded shape, holding a bundle of cloth....
A man...
He said something but she couldn`t hear...so beckoning him in, she let him walk past her and put her shoulder to the door, slamming it against the outside and throwing the bolt over to secure it...
panting with effort, she turned to see.....
He lifted the hood free. Emerald green eyes met hers and smiled.
Pale skin glowed, not green tinged but for all that, a stranger to sunlight...
In his arms the bundle of dark cloth wriggled and whimpered...and smiling a thin lipped smile, he lifted the corner of the cloth away.
A bundle of black and white, little white paws, black shiny nose, ears pricked and curious, tongue lolling, pink and dripping....a tail wagged furiously as the pup saw her and as it wriggled the more, he held it out to her....
Taking the tiny hound in her arms, she suffered her face licked, dog drool and wet nose across cheeks and eyelids, puppy breath in her nose, and she looked into deep brown collie eyes, bright and intelligent, knowing and sure....
And emerald eyes smiled into hers as he sat at the table near the window and watched the woman hug an old, well remembered friend.....
Posted on Hermit Life at 17:14
Lost Friends......
Posted: Tuesday, 20 May 2008 |
Remember what it was like, when you were a peedie bairn? At school, you made friends, and one day you`d have fallen out with them, and it would seem to be the end of the world...you`d go hide and cry in your room or lose interest even in the lure of your favourite sweeties granny would try and tempt you out of your sulks with.
Then in our teen years, everything is so ...intense....hormones rule our lives and the merest slight becomes a deadly wound we are convinced we`ll never recover from...anyone remember their first unrequited love?
Well, I`m no teenager anymore. Haven`t been one of those for a looooong time now....
but the intensity of friends letting you down still hurts, just as much as when I was that peedie bairn hiding in my room from what I was convinced was a cruel world. Just as much as when my best girl friend at school stole my boyfriend and flaunted it in front of me by telling me all of the secret things I`d told him.
And now, I`m middle aged, and have been let down badly by people who said they were friends. People I stood by through thick and thin, without any thought of it, just glad to be a shoulder to lean on, or a listening ear.
I saw some of them through some life changing trials and troubles. And was glad for them when they came out, whole, ok, the other side of it all.
Then my turn came for the troubles.
And those friends turned into fairweather friends, and vanished like summer mist, some without a word, others spouting meaningless stock phrases that only left me confused and hurting.
And one in particular, a best friend, cooled so quickly on me, I got frostbite from it!
So, I discovered, folks are wonderful friends when they need you. They say all the right words, and are ever so grateful for your help.
But when your turn comes, or when your usefulness is over?
Where are they? Nowhere in my life, that`s for sure.
I`m sure we`ve all been there....been deserted by folks who promised to stand by us no matter what.
And most likely, more than once.
So, you`d think, well, that you`d learn some common sense, huh?
If anyone ever wonders why I`m a Hermit, this is only one of the reasons.....
These aren`t the minor tantrums of the bairn in the schoolyard or the lovesick teen.
But serious, life affecting issues. Issues where, frankly, I could have used a friend or two to lean on...not for always, because I`m independant, and like to stand firm on my own two feet...but just, for a peedie while...a listening ear...an interest, someone picking up the phone to say Hi, are you ok? How are you?
Vanished like summer mist....
The number of folks left in my life I can trust, well, can count those on half a hand. Truly.
It`s maybe a mark of how tough I am, that I CAN still trust.
But I learned a few lessons...never take folks for granted, because one day they won`t be there, and you`ll miss them, and maybe, if they did the walking, they`ll miss you.
And I have a bit of advice for fairweather friends everywhere....you might move on, you might make new friends and be happy...but if they ever let you down, then you`ll wish you had older, truer friends to lean on.....i>
Then in our teen years, everything is so ...intense....hormones rule our lives and the merest slight becomes a deadly wound we are convinced we`ll never recover from...anyone remember their first unrequited love?
Well, I`m no teenager anymore. Haven`t been one of those for a looooong time now....
but the intensity of friends letting you down still hurts, just as much as when I was that peedie bairn hiding in my room from what I was convinced was a cruel world. Just as much as when my best girl friend at school stole my boyfriend and flaunted it in front of me by telling me all of the secret things I`d told him.
And now, I`m middle aged, and have been let down badly by people who said they were friends. People I stood by through thick and thin, without any thought of it, just glad to be a shoulder to lean on, or a listening ear.
I saw some of them through some life changing trials and troubles. And was glad for them when they came out, whole, ok, the other side of it all.
Then my turn came for the troubles.
And those friends turned into fairweather friends, and vanished like summer mist, some without a word, others spouting meaningless stock phrases that only left me confused and hurting.
And one in particular, a best friend, cooled so quickly on me, I got frostbite from it!
So, I discovered, folks are wonderful friends when they need you. They say all the right words, and are ever so grateful for your help.
But when your turn comes, or when your usefulness is over?
Where are they? Nowhere in my life, that`s for sure.
I`m sure we`ve all been there....been deserted by folks who promised to stand by us no matter what.
And most likely, more than once.
So, you`d think, well, that you`d learn some common sense, huh?
If anyone ever wonders why I`m a Hermit, this is only one of the reasons.....
These aren`t the minor tantrums of the bairn in the schoolyard or the lovesick teen.
But serious, life affecting issues. Issues where, frankly, I could have used a friend or two to lean on...not for always, because I`m independant, and like to stand firm on my own two feet...but just, for a peedie while...a listening ear...an interest, someone picking up the phone to say Hi, are you ok? How are you?
Vanished like summer mist....
The number of folks left in my life I can trust, well, can count those on half a hand. Truly.
It`s maybe a mark of how tough I am, that I CAN still trust.
But I learned a few lessons...never take folks for granted, because one day they won`t be there, and you`ll miss them, and maybe, if they did the walking, they`ll miss you.
And I have a bit of advice for fairweather friends everywhere....you might move on, you might make new friends and be happy...but if they ever let you down, then you`ll wish you had older, truer friends to lean on.....i>
Posted on Hermit Life at 18:46
For A Friend
Posted: Sunday, 25 May 2008 |
A good while ago, I got to know a fella who became a friend (nothing more! for those of you with mucky minds, tsk...shame on ye)
and over time, I watched his life pretty much fall apart. Stuck in a situation for over thirty years that was causing him great pain, yet with a sense of loyalty and duty that left him unable to fend for himself....
and, well, ye know me...I gave advice (wanted or not, you ever notice how it`s usually not, hee?) and offered a listening ear, and a shoulder to lean on.
He even visited sunny old Sanday for a holiday, and had a good time here, despite the weather..well, January isn`t really your average tourist season here......
He`s a kind man, and talented...he makes his own living and I`ve seen, and own, some of his work, and there`s no denying his talent..
He has a sense of humour..of a sort..well, hey, as much as any man can have one, har! :P
One of life`s gentle giants.
He`s been through the wringer the past few months....
but, he finally managed to get his life sorted. Moved to a new area, has a new wife and family now, is, in his own words, settled, and happy.
The only sad thing is that he left some friends behind. And sadly, doesn`t have time for them now.
But that doesn`t mean they don`t still care about him, or wonder how he`s doing, and wishing him the best.
So, this is just to say, well done big fella, for getting your life back on track. May the future bring you all good things, contentment, happiness and a stack of good times to turn into golden memories.
Good luck in your new life.
P.S There will be a peedie present in the post soon, for you and the missus. :-)
and over time, I watched his life pretty much fall apart. Stuck in a situation for over thirty years that was causing him great pain, yet with a sense of loyalty and duty that left him unable to fend for himself....
and, well, ye know me...I gave advice (wanted or not, you ever notice how it`s usually not, hee?) and offered a listening ear, and a shoulder to lean on.
He even visited sunny old Sanday for a holiday, and had a good time here, despite the weather..well, January isn`t really your average tourist season here......
He`s a kind man, and talented...he makes his own living and I`ve seen, and own, some of his work, and there`s no denying his talent..
He has a sense of humour..of a sort..well, hey, as much as any man can have one, har! :P
One of life`s gentle giants.
He`s been through the wringer the past few months....
but, he finally managed to get his life sorted. Moved to a new area, has a new wife and family now, is, in his own words, settled, and happy.
The only sad thing is that he left some friends behind. And sadly, doesn`t have time for them now.
But that doesn`t mean they don`t still care about him, or wonder how he`s doing, and wishing him the best.
So, this is just to say, well done big fella, for getting your life back on track. May the future bring you all good things, contentment, happiness and a stack of good times to turn into golden memories.
Good luck in your new life.
P.S There will be a peedie present in the post soon, for you and the missus. :-)
Posted on Hermit Life at 08:03
Blogging
Posted: Monday, 26 May 2008 |
At the weekend, I wrote a peedie blog to one of those lost friends of mine. It wasn`t much, just something to wish them well, hoping the best for their future. But well, they wanted it taken down, so it`s gone.
Life, won`t deny it, is a peedie bit rough right now, like for many other folks. I generally don`t air my grievances in public..too private a person for that.
But, y`know, even us hard headed folks get sick of being kicked in the teeth all the time.
So, as long as it`s ok with Carol and the lovely folks at IB, I`m only gonna use this space for writing wee stories from now on. Some folks seemed to like my other ones, so, it`ll be a safe place to be creative, and have fun with writing, and letting my imagination go rambling.
Well, hey, it does that anyway! Might as well share it....hee...can see folks fleeing in horror now....:P
I wrote a story about a heathen witch in the Viking Age once, should maybe see if I can fish it out and post it here. I never finished it, and it got up to part thirteen! I should see these things through, tsk.....
Life, won`t deny it, is a peedie bit rough right now, like for many other folks. I generally don`t air my grievances in public..too private a person for that.
But, y`know, even us hard headed folks get sick of being kicked in the teeth all the time.
So, as long as it`s ok with Carol and the lovely folks at IB, I`m only gonna use this space for writing wee stories from now on. Some folks seemed to like my other ones, so, it`ll be a safe place to be creative, and have fun with writing, and letting my imagination go rambling.
Well, hey, it does that anyway! Might as well share it....hee...can see folks fleeing in horror now....:P
I wrote a story about a heathen witch in the Viking Age once, should maybe see if I can fish it out and post it here. I never finished it, and it got up to part thirteen! I should see these things through, tsk.....
Posted on Hermit Life at 14:17
Thanks
Posted: Tuesday, 27 May 2008 |
To you guys who have been so kind and nice to me lately. I dunno what to say....
cept, well, gluttons for punishment ye`s are, so back to blogging as normal for me then. *grins*
We had a glorious weekend of sunshine. So, in time honoured tradition, what did yours truly do? Oh aye, right...go out armed with blanket, cushion, soothing music and a good book..and fell asleep in the midday sun....and hey, I`m neither a mad dog nor English!
Two hours later, I woke up thinking, "Goodness me, I`m rather hot!" (which is not true, I swore, but this IS the beeb, so.....)
and staggered, headachy, indoors, to look in a mirror, and shrieked.
Yes...I look like a tomato....a flourescent, glow in the dark, bright red tomato.
But that`s not the worst of it.
Being a woman of..shall we say..a certain age...(och alright, I`m forty-bleedin`-six!)...I thought, I`ll dye my hair...well...everyone`s entitled to a midlife crisis, right?
So, already blonde, I thought, I`ll go blonder. Peroxide, in fact.
Oh boy.....
Anyways, according to the son, I now look like some kinda demon-woman from the dark regions of hell or wherever many of the video games have their demon hordes hiding in.....
and he`s right....bright red skin...bright white hair...I look freaky, man!
No, there will be NO forthcoming pictures! I`m redying the hair to get it back to normal. I`m slathering myself with whatever I can bear to put on the skin that doesn`t make me yell in pain....
and I`m HIDING from the sun, much as I love it.
Another yearly tradition over and done with...you`d think, at my age, I`d learn....I blame the lack of sun this far north....it`s so rare, when it comes out, it drives folks like me crazy and we just go out and worship it.....*blushes*
(or would blush but am already too red for it to be noticed.....)
There are a grand bunch of folks on this place that is Island Blogging, y`know. I`m very lucky to `know` ye`s. :-)
cept, well, gluttons for punishment ye`s are, so back to blogging as normal for me then. *grins*
We had a glorious weekend of sunshine. So, in time honoured tradition, what did yours truly do? Oh aye, right...go out armed with blanket, cushion, soothing music and a good book..and fell asleep in the midday sun....and hey, I`m neither a mad dog nor English!
Two hours later, I woke up thinking, "Goodness me, I`m rather hot!" (which is not true, I swore, but this IS the beeb, so.....)
and staggered, headachy, indoors, to look in a mirror, and shrieked.
Yes...I look like a tomato....a flourescent, glow in the dark, bright red tomato.
But that`s not the worst of it.
Being a woman of..shall we say..a certain age...(och alright, I`m forty-bleedin`-six!)...I thought, I`ll dye my hair...well...everyone`s entitled to a midlife crisis, right?
So, already blonde, I thought, I`ll go blonder. Peroxide, in fact.
Oh boy.....
Anyways, according to the son, I now look like some kinda demon-woman from the dark regions of hell or wherever many of the video games have their demon hordes hiding in.....
and he`s right....bright red skin...bright white hair...I look freaky, man!
No, there will be NO forthcoming pictures! I`m redying the hair to get it back to normal. I`m slathering myself with whatever I can bear to put on the skin that doesn`t make me yell in pain....
and I`m HIDING from the sun, much as I love it.
Another yearly tradition over and done with...you`d think, at my age, I`d learn....I blame the lack of sun this far north....it`s so rare, when it comes out, it drives folks like me crazy and we just go out and worship it.....*blushes*
(or would blush but am already too red for it to be noticed.....)
There are a grand bunch of folks on this place that is Island Blogging, y`know. I`m very lucky to `know` ye`s. :-)
Posted on Hermit Life at 19:15
Chicks!
Posted: Thursday, 29 May 2008 |
Lately, my hens began hatching their chicks..about time too! Sanday always seems weeks ahind the rest of the universe for some reason.....
anyways, added to the four already hatched, this morning a peedie black speckled hen hiding under the caravan that is soon to be demolished and moved, hatched a clutch of eleven :-D
so if the other two broody hens are sitting on so many fertile eggs (they each sit on over a dozen) that should add sizeably to my hen horde...
I took a pic of the chicks afore rescuing them and putting them into one of the byres with the other hatchlings til they`re big enough to go out and brave the blackbacks and thieving crows.
Cute, huh? :-)
anyways, added to the four already hatched, this morning a peedie black speckled hen hiding under the caravan that is soon to be demolished and moved, hatched a clutch of eleven :-D
so if the other two broody hens are sitting on so many fertile eggs (they each sit on over a dozen) that should add sizeably to my hen horde...
I took a pic of the chicks afore rescuing them and putting them into one of the byres with the other hatchlings til they`re big enough to go out and brave the blackbacks and thieving crows.
Cute, huh? :-)
Posted on Hermit Life at 10:59
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