This week’s story prompt comes via two photos that span a bit of both distance and time. The post’s featured image is a scrap of coastline at the north of Mull, which we visited this summer. I’m sure I’ve waxed lyrical about the island’s beauty and splendour before, so I’ve leave that as pre-said.
The second image came from Orkney when I visited back in 2018. It is of a rune-inscribed stone which was unearthed from within a wall cavity at the Ness of Brodgar archaeological dig while watched. The staff at the site were confident that we were the first people to handle it in 5000 years. It was suggested (by people far more knowledgeable than me) that it was a rune of protection that had been incorporated in the walls of the building, which was huge by neolithic standards, to ward off evil. I mean, who couldn’t run with that idea, right?
Fast forward to Mull 2021 and the crashing waves reminded me of the idea whose seed was planted on Orkney. I may try to take the idea somewhere at some point, but in the mean time, here’s a start — see if you fancy taking it anywhere.
Waves crashed against the rocks, smashing into them like the vanguard of an attacking storm. I frowned up at the wisps of cloud that tumbled lazily through the bright September sky that lied a promise of fair weather.
Though the sun was warm on my scalp the sea darkened and a sudden wind slapped chill North Sea spray into my face. The waves rose and crashed against the rocks. Further down the coast I could see calm waves gently massaging the beach. You know that feeling like you’ve gathered your own personal storm? Seems to happen more in Scotland than elsewhere. Usually I can shrug it off. It is nonsense after all. Just egocentric paranoia left over from an evolutionary past that prioritised threats over coincidences. This time the feeling built to a crescendo of certainty until I wanted to scream.
In my hand the stone I’d unearthed warmed unexpectedly in the cooling air. Without having changed the rune inscribed on it. Not exactly glowing, but definitely clearer somehow. Like a still point amid chaos. In 30 years of digging through the remains of our ancestors’ lives I had never before felt that I should have left my find undisturbed. Mine was the first hand to touch it in over five millennia. In that moment I knew it would have been better if I hadn’t.
The sea boiled angrily. Something was coming to the surface.
Deeper shadows darkened the waters and a seething mist replaced the storm spray. Something glowing red broke the surface. A hoof clacked against rock.
The mists parted to reveal a horror. Black fur glistened wet along the flanks of the beast, huge like a Clydesdale draft horse. Water streamed from the spiked fins that lined the back of the creature’s legs. From its chest rose a human-like torso raw red muscles rippling along its flesh with the promise of destruction. Glowing red eyes burned within its demonic, predatory face.
When the monster turned to face me my legs went weak. I nearly fell. I wanted to run but movement was impossible. A name, dredged from a long forgotten memory of folklore classes, came to mind. Nuckelavee. A demon of the ancient world.
The rune on my stone blazed a steadying blue against the monster’s furious crimson. It scowled, creasing its eyes to slits, though the evil light did not dim, just tightened in a laser focus. The beast snarled and charged, leaping the narrow finger of sea water that separated us.
He reached for me with claw-tipped hands and I screamed.
Nuckelavee slammed to a halt, barely a metre ahead of me. Claws scrabbled against an invisible barrier as heat pulsed off the stone in my hand. The monster reared up and slammed its dinner-plate sized front hooves against the barrier. Heat scalded my hand, but I didn’t drop the stone. I don’t think I could have unclenched my fingers even if I’d wanted to.
I stepped forward and Nuckelavee was forced back, his hooves scraping against the dried rock like nails on a blackboard. Another step and his hind quarters were forced into the waves. A third step and the monster vanished below the waves. I had no doubt he would return.
Brandon Lim 