This week’s photo was taken from the top of the Glenfinnan Monument looking out over Loch Shiel. Obviously, go there given the chance. In my opinion the view speaks for itself, except to say that my photo doesn’t do it justice. There’s also a lovely walk by a famous viaduct for those of us into that sort of stuff.
Within the monument is a steep and winding staircase leading to a narrow hatch that lets you out onto the parapet which is dominated by an imposing statue of a highland warrior. Due to the weird placement of the hatch I had a heart-stopping moment of being stuck at the top. Learn from my mistakes: leave your backpack at the bottom!
Anyway… On to the story.
There are places in this world where you can reach another. If you know how to find them. Well, not really places, strictly speaking. Moments in space-time, to put it in modern terms. My Grandmother used to tell me that they happened at certain locations at particular times where thin places in the worlds lined up. Then, for the lucky, or the diligent, it is possible to see through these cosmic windows. To witness somewhere else altogether. Not somewhere here on Earth. Not even a different planet. Somewhere Other.
As with ordinary windows, it is possible, for the truly bold, to not just look but to go through to this Other. My Grandmother always warned me against that.
“Like most windows, climbing out is frequently easier than climbing back in,” she would say.
I left it at that. A lifetime of looking beyond this world to the Other had made Gran wise. Even if it had not, her word was to be obeyed. Not through force of personality, or any manner of violent compulsion. It was simply that if Gran said it, it would be so. Not a force of nature so much as a fact of it.
The first time I saw into the Other was on the shores of Loch Shiel. The wind ruffled my hair. Tugged at the trees. Yet somehow the surface of the Loch was flat and still. The hills were reflected sharp and crystal clear. The sky was mirrored in its pristine surface. It was the sky that gave it away. In the depths of the Other sky the sun burned bright through the thin ripple of clouds. My own sky was bright and white, but the disc of the sun was hidden.
Once I knew to look that was not the only disparities. The trees of the Other were of subtly different shape. Their leaves were in unfamiliar hues. Though the buildings were the same their inhabitants, while passing as human at first glance, were clearly not upon a second viewing.
Flying high in that Other sky were not birds. At least, their silhouettes were wrong. Elongated necks and tails. Wings that were more bat-like than avian. I felt sure, though I could not see closely enough, that instead of feathers I would find scaly skin.
I hurried to the water’s edge keen to have as close a look at this new place as I could find. On arriving I was at first disappointed. None of the wonders that I’d seen at a distance were meaningfully closer. The trees, the people, everything of interest was still far away in that Other world. I turned away, meaning to head back to my earlier vantage point.
I had taken only a step when I heard a distinct ‘plop’. I whipped around to see the end of the splash of water landing on the shore. Despite that, the surface of the loch remained undisturbed.
Movement caught my eye. One of the flying creatures lay on the bank. It stood and staggered, falling back to the rocks. A dragon. No larger than a kestrel, but a dragon no less. Sensing its distress I ran to it.
Close in I could see my instinct about the scales was correct. The glorious, pitiful creature shivered under our weaker sun. Here in our world the scent of ice was on the air. There in the Other the snow line was higher up the mountains. Ours was a cooler land than the dragon was comfortable with. I sensed its distress somehow. It didn’t have long.
I picked it up and cradled it to my chest. The creature squirmed and wriggled into my heat. I hugged it closer and wracked my brain for what to do. Only one solution presented itself. I turned back toward the water. Gran’s warnings rang in my mind’s ear as I stepped forward. But there was no other way.
I stepped into the water and fell through into the Other.
On the Other bank, the heat of the sun quickly dried my clothes. My dragon friend fluttered its wings and took to the sky once more. I turned back to the loch again, torn between exploring more and returning to the safety of my own world. A cooling breeze swept over me. The surface of the loch rippled. The reflection of home broke up and when the waters stilled it showed only the sky of the Other. The decision was out of my hands. I was now an accidental explorer of this foreign land.
Brandon Lim 