Young Storykeeper Volume III

244 | STORYKEEPERS VOLUME III AGE TWELVE | 245
PUFFIN’S PANORAMA
THE FAIR MAIDEN OF BLACK AND WHITE
When I was growing up, my father used to say, “Don’t worry about me
Billy, the fair maiden of black and white will be there to protect me,”
before he sailed out to sea.
One Saturday night, my father had returned from the village. The
sky was a dark shade of grey. The hall door slammed, closed in the
wind. I could smell the usual scent of whiskey and I listened to him tell
my mother that he was going out to catch a bolt of lightning. He slurred
each word worse than the one before. After only minutes of begging, my
mother burst into tears.
I tugged on my father’s sleeve. “Please, Father! Stay!” I cried, tears
of fear filling my eyes. Yet all that he said was, “Billy, the fair maiden of
black and white will see my boat to shore.”
The next ten years of my life were a misery, no father figure to
follow. The sea was in my blood, so I became a fisherman.
One fateful night I set out to catch mackerel and though it was
foggy, I had been out in much worse. As the boat sailed through the sea,
I could feel the cold, salty air blow through my hair. It soon began to rain
and I swore I could hear thunder.
As I pulled out my chart, a cold gush of wind whipped it from my
clutches. I started to panic. I strained to see through the fog which
seemed to be thickening by the minute and I could faintly spot a fin
circling the boat. I stood shaking as the body it belonged to lifted itself
out of the water. I pulled out my gun, but it was useless when I had
nothing to train it on. As the shark pounced, its hungry jaws snapping, a
sharp, blinding light cut through the fog.
The light moved back and forth, both scaring and blinding the
vicious beast and causing it to swim away in fright. As the heavenly
light, my new-found saviour, graciously cleared the fog from my path, I
suddenly saw where it was coming from. There the fair maiden from my
late father’s stories stood, dressed in stripes of black and white. She was
taller than the highest tree and her light brighter than the stars.
To this day, she still stands as she has done for hundreds of years,
guiding poor lost sailors around the rocky shores of Hook Head.
Aoife Harris
Co Wexford
O, how the lighthouse stands so tall
A tower of light and hope for all
A fortress of unshakeable strength
A bastion to keep the ships at length.
I swoop amid the rugged cliffs
And gaze upon this mariner’s gift
For many a soul it saved from death
Defending life, sustaining breath.
I watch as darkness swallows the day
Huge waves pound rocks below like prey
Then shining through the gloomy night
I behold the beauty of its guiding light.
My travels have taken me far and wide
Back and forth between the tide
And from the horizon it greets me anew
A blessing for me and countless crews.
Reuben Johnston
Co Antrim