Young Storykeeper Volume III

230 | STORYKEEPERS VOLUME III AGE ELEVEN | 231
CALL OF THE SEA
It was the summer holidays and Anne was staying at her grandfather’s house.
It was going to be utterly boring! After a few days of doing nothing, Anne’s grandfather
suggested that she go and explore the village.
“It will be great!” he said enthusiastically.
“All right, Grandfather, but I have a question. What about that old lighthouse? Should
I explore that as well?”
“Oh no, no, no, child. Never go into that lighthouse,” said Anne’s grandfather, who
looked very worried.
“But why?” Anne asked.
“All right, child, do you mind if I tell a story? Hmm? Very well,” her grandfather said.
“Once there was an old woman who lived in that lighthouse. There were a lot of rumours
about her. Some said that she was a witch, others said that she was a spirit,” he explained,
adding, “but some said that she was a selkie!”
“But what is a selkie?” asked Anne.
“A selkie is a magical being,” her grandfather continued. “By day they take the form of
a woman, but at night they take the form of a seal. And then one night, that woman takes
her true form and becomes a seal forever. And some say that’s what happened to the old
woman because one night, the woman vanished!”
“Really, Grandfather?” said Anne, who was bit sceptical of this idea.
“It’s true, child, “ her grandfather replied. “Never go near that lighthouse, do you
understand me?”
Anne sighed. She had explored all of the village and now she was bored again. “Maybe
I’ll just go and take a look,” she said to herself.
Inside the lighthouse, it was cold and damp and it smelled awful. As she climbed up
the slippery steps, she noticed that there were some strange red stains on the walls. Anne
frowned. Very strange!
When she reached the top, Anne saw a small table. On top of it there were some
very unusual shells. They were all different colours, like blues, greens and reds. Some were
even multi-coloured.
There was one, however, that caught her eye in particular. It was a shimmering, almost
transparent white colour, and was in the shape of a seal. Anne picked it up and looked at
it. At the end of what looked to be the seal’s tail, there was a small hole.
Curious, Anne blew into it, and it sounded like the bark of a seal.
Wait! Anne remembered what her grandfather said about the selkies, but it was too
late. She was turning into a seal. Soon, she was completely transformed. She slipped down
the stairs and vanished into the sea.
And sometimes, if you visit that town, and go down to that harbour, it is more than
likely that you will see a certain seal looking out onto land with what looks like longing in in
its eyes. And some say that it is Anne.
The magic of the sea is as dangerous as it is wonderful and should not be interfered
with.
Maya van Rensburg
Co Galway
GRAMPA’S LIGHTHOUSE
CH-CH-BRRRRRRMM! coughed the foghorn.
I was used to the noise. That’s not to say my ears didn’t hurt every time it happened, but I
wasn’t scared of it like I used to be.
I remember running inside to Nana’s comforting arms while Grampa pushed the button and
sent air blasting out of the can, warning incoming ships about the thick clouds that came down so
low in my village, engulfing everything in their foggy grasp.
But now, five years later, the sound was a reminder of my childhood and Grampa - a painful,
ear-blistering reminder.
“Want to come fishing with me?!” called my dad from the harbour.
“Sure!” I yelled back at him. “Let me just put on some waterproofs!”
My dad ran a local fish shop that probably accounted for 60% of my village’s food. He also
had a big trawler called The Drenched Goose’s Bill that stocked his shop.
I went out with him for the occasional fish or just a pleasure ride around the bay.
As I awkwardly trudged along the road in my salopettes and turned out towards my dad’s
boat on the pier, a ferry churned past the harbour, sending gargantuan waves in every direction
including mine. SPLOSH!
By the time I reached The Drenched Goose’s Bill, I was sodden and shivering from head to
toe.
Dad looked at me. “You look like you’ve been in already!” he said. “C’mon, let’s get going.”
We arrived back, guided through murky waters by the now unmanned lighthouse, with a
truckload of fish to sell and a dozen or so for ourselves.
Friday was a break from fish and we ordered food from the Chinese and sat in for the Friday
night movie.
The movie was about a man who grows up in a seaside village, like me, and moves to town
and becomes a famous actor and eventually goes to Hollywood.
I woke up to the sound of the foghorn, and had the usual breakfast, cornflakes and toast with
mackerel. I ran up to lighthouse and steadily climbed the rusty stairs to the blocked off entrance,
around the chains into the white room that used to be where you would control it manually.
But of course it was now controlled digitally.
The last lighthouse keeper that was buried in our town square was my grandfather. As I
scanned across the switches and dial, I saw the note Gampa left when he became sick.
Jonathan,
As you know I am unwell, but don’t worry I will be making a full recovery any time now and
we can get back to lighthouse keeping.
I miss you a lot, thank you for sending all the get well soon cards.
I love you so much
Grampa.
I read the note four times and pinned it back on the controls, wiping a tear from my cheek.
I climbed back around the chains, down the stairs and ran into the village to join a game of
soccer with my friends.
Hugo McHugh
Co Dublin