Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Secret of the Seal skin ❯ Chapter two: the Sealskin ( Chapter 1 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Kakaro 
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Fantasy | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 09.04.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.0K | Visits: 122 | Status: Work In Progress
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Fantasy | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 09.04.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.0K | Visits: 122 | Status: Work In Progress
Secret of the Sealskin
---
What would happen if an old myth, a fairytale often told by the fire, came true? After times full of misery Rowan returns to the Orkney Islands after the death
of her father, in hope to find peace for something she thinks she could not be forgiven for. In the end however, she finds quite something else in a mysterious man,
passionated by the sea, and by her?
DISCLAIMER: All the characters in this story are mine, and mine completly, meaning that I was the one who created them.
They are my property and cannot be used in other stories with my consent.
---
EDAY
Pronounced: "ay-dee"
"Isthmus Island"
So called because of the isthmus across the middle of the island.
---
Chapter two:
The Sealskin.
A cold wind blew across the sandy beach of Eday, one of the many Orkney Islands. It had no mercy for the gulls, trying to fight the wind with their grey wings, nor for the
young woman wandering aimlessly through the send. Her thick, red hair was blown across her face, leaving thin red striped across her already blushed cheeks.
It was autumn, and it promised to be cold. Dark grey clouds wielded overhead, promising rain and storm. The waves had white head, bashing violently on the shore, as
if the sea itself was shouting and growling in anger.
There were no footprints on the beach, except those of the redhaired woman, and some of the sheep wandering around in the dunes. Tourists had left long before
the cold wind could haunt their vacation homes, and only those who lived on the island remained there, enduring the winter and all it's cold surprises.
Rowan Finn was not one of those Orkney natives, who called themselves the true inhabitants of the Orkney Islands, even though buying a house on the islands for
holidays had become quite something normal to do. She looked like a native, mastered the dialect which was loosing it's battle against the modern day English, but
never called herself a true inhabitant of Orkney.
She had lived in London most of her years, only returning to Eday during the summer holiday, and christmas. She could have been one of the many young women
who had chosen to stay on the island, she would've perfctly blended in, with her fiery red hair, her strong appearence, and her proud way of keeping her head high.
But she had chosen her carreer above her love for the islands, and she had accepted the fact that she would live in London, finding a home there, instead of
buying a home for herself on Eday, or perhaps one of the other islands.
For a moment the young woman stopped dead in her tracks, as a seagull flew by, almost mocking her with his strange laugh. Many seagulls had followed her ever
since she had set foot outside the comfortable, warm farm which had once belonged to her father, to venture out onto the beach.
She looked up, blue-ish green eyes scanning the sky, trying to judge the dark grey clouds overhead, wondering whether they promised rain, or simply a somber blanket
spread across the sky.
She feared the first, and cursed herself for being so stubborn to go without at least an umbrella.
The old waxcoat of her father would keep her dry, the thick fabric was still reliable after all those years, but she hated the thought of a cold shower, on an already
windy day. It was as if she saw the white heads of the waves for the first time, rolling ashore, and she glanced back, seeing how far she had already walked.
It had been early in the morning when she had left the tiny house, once a farm, but she doubted that she would return before dusk. She had walked father than
she had expected too.
But then again, she had been too lost in thoughts to bother to look where she had walked off too. Her feet had swept her away, and without her knowing they
had brought her far, far away.
It was her own fault, and she stood still for a moment. Pondering about the fact whether to call it a day, or just continue to walk for a little while more. She enjoyed
the solitude, the loneliness this place brought. It emptied her mind, her heart, making her feel carefree for a moment.
As it had done years ago, when she had been younger, a teenager barely out of school, returning to the islands to spend a summer vacation with her father,
wandering about at his side, studying the flowers and the flora.
Times long past.
She sighed, sitting down on one of the many grey rocks that sprouted from the sand. It gave the beach a wild look, the rocks and occasional dune grass, but Rowan
merely marveled in it's beauty.
It had been two months since her father had left this world for the next, and she hadn't taken one moment of rest, one moment of grief. The memory of her father
was still fresh. A kind old man, clad in a yellow waxcoat, tending whatever he was tending, sitting before his small home. Leod had been well known among the
inhabitants of Eday, as he had been one of them. He had been a good father, she thought to herself, and undeserving of the lonely death he had received. She had
not been there for him, although he had been there for her throughout all those years.
She sighed again, staring ahead of her, into the wild, growling sea. She had been flabbergasted to hear of his departure, she had never imagined he would go
so soon. But a heartattack was not uncommon, and so it proved him fatal in the end, his solitude and loneliness. And yet she had thought that he would live, if not
just a little longer.
He hadn't, and she was alone now. Alone on an island which she only visited because her father had been there.
She snorted, shaking her head as if she wanted to banish the cold feeling of misery and grief that gripped her heart. She wouldn't cry, not on some sandy beach,
she would cry at his grave, or not at all, she firmly promised herself. Her father, Leod Finn, had been buried at the local cemetary, but she hadn't dared to visit it yet.
It seemed so, absolete, if she would go.
She shook her head again, her red hair falling in her face, before she heard a sound among the howling of the wind.
It almost seemed laughter, clear, jubulant voices carried by the wind to her direction. It made her frown, made her curious as most tourists had already left the island.
By the sound of it, they weren't lost, but Rowan had been fairly sure that she had been the only one walking these beaches, as the beach was the most deserted
part of the entire island.
She rose to her feet, holding her head high as she tried to catch more of the laughter. It almost seemed as if it came from behind the dune, blocking her view as the beach
took a turn behind the sandy hill.
Her curiosity was awakened, and frowning she started walking, keeping her head tilted to hear the laughter. She walked towards the dune, almost loosing one
of her boots as it got stuck in the heavy sand. The laughter became louder, clearer, the sound of a thousand bells. Almost mythical, unnatural.
Finally she had reached the top of the dune, and she grabbed a handful of dune grass, pulling herself onto the top.
Only to find the beach completly deserted.
She had been sure that she had heard laughter, jubulant howling as if a bunch of youngsters had started a party right here on the beach. But it was empty, deserted.
With some effort the made her way down, carefull not to trip as the dune was steep. There were no signs at first, that anyone had been here. If anyone had been here.
She looked around, scanning for some figures on the horizon. Perhaps they had been ashamed, or perhaps they didn't want her to find out; a bunch of teenagers with
a bottle of whiskey.
She seriously began doubting herself as she saw nothing, no bottles, no nothing, untill she passed a few rocks, and found footsteps. Footsteps of men, their feet were
bigger than hers, even in the burrowed boots.
And they had been barefoot, clear marks of feet and toes embedded in the sand. As if they had been dancing naked.
Rowan glanced around, uncertain what to think, what to do. If there were men around she didn't feel so safe at all. After all, she had told no one that she would take
a walk, and now in the middle of nowhere she found footprints, barefooted footprints.
"Hello?" She called out, scanning her surroundings, perhaps they would make themselves known, if she called. But no one came, the wind was still howling,
the sea was roaring, and the dunes seemed empty.
She officially declared herself crazy, and she growled, frustrated. She had heard laughter, she was seeing footprints, but there was absolutly no one.
Untill her eye fell upon a heap of brown. It caught her eye in a flash, hid behind a rock. She blinked, not knowing what to think of it, as she got closer. It seemed
to be a skin, a skin with soft brown fur. A dead seal, she immediatly thought, and curiosity got the better of her.
Carefully she studied the skin, picking it up with her frozen hands, studying the texture of the brown fur. It was soft, not sandy at all, nor wet.
It was even... warm.
She held it to her cheek, she could clearly feel the warmth radiating from the leather side of the skin. As it the seal had just been skinned.
She nearly recoiled at the thought, but noticed at the same time that there was no blood. Perhaps some vandals had caught a seal, and held a party? But that didn't
explain the absence of blood.
She looked down upon the seal skin again, not quite knowing what to think of the situation. One thing she knew tho, that she didn't wished to stay any longer. Not
a moment. She was a true Londoner, and she wanted nothing to do with anything magical.
Magic did not excist, and this was just a sealskin warmed by the sun. Eventhough the sun had not shone since the morning, when she had awokened.
She shivered, folding the sealskin carefully, before she turned around. She would return home, immediatly, without any further thoughts about the subject. It was too
strange for words, and she refused to believe that it was anything... unnatural.
And so she continued her journey, back home, the sealskin tucked safely underneath her arm, while the wind was howling and the sea growling. The orkneys islands
were strange islands indeed, if the sea spitted out sealskins by accident.
tbc.
---
What would happen if an old myth, a fairytale often told by the fire, came true? After times full of misery Rowan returns to the Orkney Islands after the death
of her father, in hope to find peace for something she thinks she could not be forgiven for. In the end however, she finds quite something else in a mysterious man,
passionated by the sea, and by her?
DISCLAIMER: All the characters in this story are mine, and mine completly, meaning that I was the one who created them.
They are my property and cannot be used in other stories with my consent.
---
EDAY
Pronounced: "ay-dee"
"Isthmus Island"
So called because of the isthmus across the middle of the island.
---
Chapter two:
The Sealskin.
A cold wind blew across the sandy beach of Eday, one of the many Orkney Islands. It had no mercy for the gulls, trying to fight the wind with their grey wings, nor for the
young woman wandering aimlessly through the send. Her thick, red hair was blown across her face, leaving thin red striped across her already blushed cheeks.
It was autumn, and it promised to be cold. Dark grey clouds wielded overhead, promising rain and storm. The waves had white head, bashing violently on the shore, as
if the sea itself was shouting and growling in anger.
There were no footprints on the beach, except those of the redhaired woman, and some of the sheep wandering around in the dunes. Tourists had left long before
the cold wind could haunt their vacation homes, and only those who lived on the island remained there, enduring the winter and all it's cold surprises.
Rowan Finn was not one of those Orkney natives, who called themselves the true inhabitants of the Orkney Islands, even though buying a house on the islands for
holidays had become quite something normal to do. She looked like a native, mastered the dialect which was loosing it's battle against the modern day English, but
never called herself a true inhabitant of Orkney.
She had lived in London most of her years, only returning to Eday during the summer holiday, and christmas. She could have been one of the many young women
who had chosen to stay on the island, she would've perfctly blended in, with her fiery red hair, her strong appearence, and her proud way of keeping her head high.
But she had chosen her carreer above her love for the islands, and she had accepted the fact that she would live in London, finding a home there, instead of
buying a home for herself on Eday, or perhaps one of the other islands.
For a moment the young woman stopped dead in her tracks, as a seagull flew by, almost mocking her with his strange laugh. Many seagulls had followed her ever
since she had set foot outside the comfortable, warm farm which had once belonged to her father, to venture out onto the beach.
She looked up, blue-ish green eyes scanning the sky, trying to judge the dark grey clouds overhead, wondering whether they promised rain, or simply a somber blanket
spread across the sky.
She feared the first, and cursed herself for being so stubborn to go without at least an umbrella.
The old waxcoat of her father would keep her dry, the thick fabric was still reliable after all those years, but she hated the thought of a cold shower, on an already
windy day. It was as if she saw the white heads of the waves for the first time, rolling ashore, and she glanced back, seeing how far she had already walked.
It had been early in the morning when she had left the tiny house, once a farm, but she doubted that she would return before dusk. She had walked father than
she had expected too.
But then again, she had been too lost in thoughts to bother to look where she had walked off too. Her feet had swept her away, and without her knowing they
had brought her far, far away.
It was her own fault, and she stood still for a moment. Pondering about the fact whether to call it a day, or just continue to walk for a little while more. She enjoyed
the solitude, the loneliness this place brought. It emptied her mind, her heart, making her feel carefree for a moment.
As it had done years ago, when she had been younger, a teenager barely out of school, returning to the islands to spend a summer vacation with her father,
wandering about at his side, studying the flowers and the flora.
Times long past.
She sighed, sitting down on one of the many grey rocks that sprouted from the sand. It gave the beach a wild look, the rocks and occasional dune grass, but Rowan
merely marveled in it's beauty.
It had been two months since her father had left this world for the next, and she hadn't taken one moment of rest, one moment of grief. The memory of her father
was still fresh. A kind old man, clad in a yellow waxcoat, tending whatever he was tending, sitting before his small home. Leod had been well known among the
inhabitants of Eday, as he had been one of them. He had been a good father, she thought to herself, and undeserving of the lonely death he had received. She had
not been there for him, although he had been there for her throughout all those years.
She sighed again, staring ahead of her, into the wild, growling sea. She had been flabbergasted to hear of his departure, she had never imagined he would go
so soon. But a heartattack was not uncommon, and so it proved him fatal in the end, his solitude and loneliness. And yet she had thought that he would live, if not
just a little longer.
He hadn't, and she was alone now. Alone on an island which she only visited because her father had been there.
She snorted, shaking her head as if she wanted to banish the cold feeling of misery and grief that gripped her heart. She wouldn't cry, not on some sandy beach,
she would cry at his grave, or not at all, she firmly promised herself. Her father, Leod Finn, had been buried at the local cemetary, but she hadn't dared to visit it yet.
It seemed so, absolete, if she would go.
She shook her head again, her red hair falling in her face, before she heard a sound among the howling of the wind.
It almost seemed laughter, clear, jubulant voices carried by the wind to her direction. It made her frown, made her curious as most tourists had already left the island.
By the sound of it, they weren't lost, but Rowan had been fairly sure that she had been the only one walking these beaches, as the beach was the most deserted
part of the entire island.
She rose to her feet, holding her head high as she tried to catch more of the laughter. It almost seemed as if it came from behind the dune, blocking her view as the beach
took a turn behind the sandy hill.
Her curiosity was awakened, and frowning she started walking, keeping her head tilted to hear the laughter. She walked towards the dune, almost loosing one
of her boots as it got stuck in the heavy sand. The laughter became louder, clearer, the sound of a thousand bells. Almost mythical, unnatural.
Finally she had reached the top of the dune, and she grabbed a handful of dune grass, pulling herself onto the top.
Only to find the beach completly deserted.
She had been sure that she had heard laughter, jubulant howling as if a bunch of youngsters had started a party right here on the beach. But it was empty, deserted.
With some effort the made her way down, carefull not to trip as the dune was steep. There were no signs at first, that anyone had been here. If anyone had been here.
She looked around, scanning for some figures on the horizon. Perhaps they had been ashamed, or perhaps they didn't want her to find out; a bunch of teenagers with
a bottle of whiskey.
She seriously began doubting herself as she saw nothing, no bottles, no nothing, untill she passed a few rocks, and found footsteps. Footsteps of men, their feet were
bigger than hers, even in the burrowed boots.
And they had been barefoot, clear marks of feet and toes embedded in the sand. As if they had been dancing naked.
Rowan glanced around, uncertain what to think, what to do. If there were men around she didn't feel so safe at all. After all, she had told no one that she would take
a walk, and now in the middle of nowhere she found footprints, barefooted footprints.
"Hello?" She called out, scanning her surroundings, perhaps they would make themselves known, if she called. But no one came, the wind was still howling,
the sea was roaring, and the dunes seemed empty.
She officially declared herself crazy, and she growled, frustrated. She had heard laughter, she was seeing footprints, but there was absolutly no one.
Untill her eye fell upon a heap of brown. It caught her eye in a flash, hid behind a rock. She blinked, not knowing what to think of it, as she got closer. It seemed
to be a skin, a skin with soft brown fur. A dead seal, she immediatly thought, and curiosity got the better of her.
Carefully she studied the skin, picking it up with her frozen hands, studying the texture of the brown fur. It was soft, not sandy at all, nor wet.
It was even... warm.
She held it to her cheek, she could clearly feel the warmth radiating from the leather side of the skin. As it the seal had just been skinned.
She nearly recoiled at the thought, but noticed at the same time that there was no blood. Perhaps some vandals had caught a seal, and held a party? But that didn't
explain the absence of blood.
She looked down upon the seal skin again, not quite knowing what to think of the situation. One thing she knew tho, that she didn't wished to stay any longer. Not
a moment. She was a true Londoner, and she wanted nothing to do with anything magical.
Magic did not excist, and this was just a sealskin warmed by the sun. Eventhough the sun had not shone since the morning, when she had awokened.
She shivered, folding the sealskin carefully, before she turned around. She would return home, immediatly, without any further thoughts about the subject. It was too
strange for words, and she refused to believe that it was anything... unnatural.
And so she continued her journey, back home, the sealskin tucked safely underneath her arm, while the wind was howling and the sea growling. The orkneys islands
were strange islands indeed, if the sea spitted out sealskins by accident.
tbc.