Writing

Each month I'm putting a short story or sample chapter from my work, for you to read and (hopefully!) enjoy. This time its my short story "Fraoch Eilean", which I entered in the Children's Writers and Artists Yearbook competition. Although I didn't win, I'm using the basic plot and characters as the basis for my next novel, which I'm presently working on.

Fraoch Eilean

There was a bitter downpour the evening twelve year old Moira McCloud arrived at Firth Cottage near Luss. The sky was scarred and darker than black, and Loch Lomond was roaring and raging like an angry demon on a drunken night out. The taxi pulled up near the cottage and Moira got out, throwing on her shiny green raincoat.

The driver looked at Moira as she handed him the fare. He didn�t like coming here � the place still managed to send shivers up his tired old spine. �Ye�ll be all right here, won�t ye lass?�

Moira sniffed and tossed back her long messy ginger hair. She had dyed part of it pink as revenge on her parents for not letting her spend the week with her friend Clare, who�d moved to Surrey the year before. �Yeah, it�s only for a week while my parents are away.�

�Ye be careful of the ghost, the noo.�

�What ghost?�

�Ye de�ny ken? The ghost o� the poor wee lass who drooned in the Loch.�

Moira put on a smirk and left the driver to shake his head and speed off back the way he had come. She decided it might be worth asking her grandmother about the ghost.

Fiona McCloud had seen the taxi arrive, and she threw open the door of the cottage to greet her granddaughter. She�d only ever seen her once before when she had travelled down to London to visit her son, Moira�s father. �Hallo, Moira. Ooch, yer so lovely! Better than in the pho�os! De you want some tea? Ay, you do.�

Moira opened her mouth to complain she didn�t like tea, but her grandmother was already busy opening the cupboards in the kitchen and laying out the cups and saucers. Moira took off her raincoat and wandered into the living room. Her eyes fell on a book lying open on the coffee table. Its pages were tattered and yellow, and it was covered in neat joined up black handwriting.

�Ay, I ken�d ye�d be interested.� Moira looked round and saw her grandmother entering the room with tea and shortbread. �Tis� Nessa�s diary.�

Moira sat down on the sofa near the table. �Who�s Nessa?�

Fiona sat beside her granddaughter and put down the tray. �She died a long time ago. Have I never told you aboot it?�

Moira shook her head with her eyebrows raised. Was her grandmother stupid? She�d only ever seen her once before. �Is she the ghost?�

Fiona nodded and sipped her tea, insisting Moira do the same. �It all star�ed when Nessa was seven�een. She fell in love wi� a young man fre Balloch. But he had to go away fighting fer Bonnie Prince Charlie��

Moira frowned. �Who was he?�

�De ye not know? What de they teach ye doon in England? He led the rebellion against the Pro�estant king back in the eighteenth cent�ry. Or was it the seventeenth? Ooch, I can�y mind. Anyways, he was a Catholic, ye know, and she was a Pro�estant and her parents were livid when they found oot. And then the poor lassie got pregnant and the faemily threw her oot the cottage. This very cottage we�re in right noo.�

�She lived here?�

�Ay, she did. It all happened here. So she took her wee baby and rowed off to Fraoch��

�Where�s that?�

�Fraoch Eilean. It�s an island in the Loch, near the village o� Luss. It used t�be called Luss Prison because getting off it is really hard.�

Moira�s curiosity had been aroused. Outside the wind had begun to howl and screech, and the rain was battering the window. �So what happened?�

Fiona sighed, put down her cup and fingered the pages of the diary. �The poor thing got caught up in a storm on the way, and well, she never made it back. Ne b�dy knows if she even got te the island at all.�

�So she died?�

�Ay, and they say her ghost is still oot there. And her baeby�s too.� Fiona lowered her voice and moved her head closer to Moira�s. �But ye know what they say?�

�What?�

�She put a curse on every female Pro�estant McCloud after her. That they should all die an e�rly death like her.�

Moira was startled. �McCloud? So she was related to us?�

Fiona moved her head up and down. �Ay, she was. That�s how I got her diary. It was the one thing she asked for before she left the cottage for the last time, but her parents wouldn�y let her have it. Her faether wan�ed te throw it oot into the Loch but her mam couldn�y bear it and hid it away in the cellar. And there it stayed till I foond it when I was a wee lass just like you.�

�Have you ever been to the island?�

Fiona�s mouth twisted into a little smile. �Ooch, no. I had a faemily te bring up. Ne time fer all the stories.� Fiona got up and took the empty tray, putting Moira�s half-full cup of tea onto it. �I think it�s time ye went te bed, don�t you?�

Moira opened her mouth to protest, but realised there wasn�t all that much to do anyway. The cottage didn�t even seem to have a TV. Fiona led the way upstairs and showed Moira her bedroom. �That�s where Nessa slept, an� all.�

Moira groaned, wishing her grandmother hadn�t told her that. It made her feel uncomfortable and she hoped she wouldn�t spend the night awake worrying about ghosts. Why hadn�t her parents let her stay with Clare? A good chance to get to know her grandmother, they had told her, as if they always knew best. The bedroom window looked out onto the Loch and Moira could see the murky island of Fraoch in the distance. Nessa�s story had intrigued her and she realised she had forgotten to ask her grandmother what had happened to the young man Nessa had been in love with. Or even if the curse had ever come true. Moira was still thinking about it when she drifted off to sleep.

It was still dark when Moira woke up and heard a voice from outside the room. Tiny whispers, but definitely a voice. A shiver went through Moira�s spine and she got up in bed.

�MOIRA!� It was her grandmother, screaming at her in an ugly deep voice!

Moira shuddered and clutched her bed sheets together with trembling fingers.

�Moira! Come here!�

Shiver after shiver went through Moira as she slid out of bed and put on the large slippers set down beside it. She opened the door and went onto the dark landing. She went into her grandmother�s room and saw her lying on her bed covered with pale white sheets. A large candle was lit nearby and cast dark shadows around the tiny room.

�Moira.� Her grandmother�s voice had gone soft and low.

�W�what�s wrong?�

�I�m dying. You must do something for me.�

�Gran! I�I�ll call an ambulance.�

�No! Come here.�

Moira gulped and went closer to her grandmother, and saw the colour had vanished from her face. Nessa�s diary was lying on the drawers near the bed beside the candle. The elderly woman heaved herself up in the bed. �Take it. Take it te the island or else it�ll never stop. It�ll happen to ye too. Take it!� She took hold of the diary and stretched her wrinkly thin arm out to Moira who took the diary with a shudder and clutched it against her chest. Frightened tears began pouring down her eyes and a shudder went through her spine. �I�m scared.�

�De�ny be. Take the rowing boat oot�side and jes row till ye get te the island. Leave the diary there and come back. Quick!�

�Gran��

�Go!�

Moira went back to her room and pulled on her clothes, wondering if this wasn�t perhaps some sort of crazy nightmare. She pinched herself so many times her side began to hurt. She went past her grandmother�s room and went downstairs. The door wasn�t locked and the pouring rain began to batter Moira the moment she stepped outside.

Moira ran across the field to the edge of the Loch and saw the wooden rowing boat tied to a post. She undid the rope with her bare hands. It was bitterly cold and the wind and rain ravaged her efforts and made her hands go red. After struggling for several moments, the rope finally let go and she got into the boat. Moira took the oars and began to row. It was hard work, but the wind was on her side and pushed her forward towards the island.

As Moira got closer, she became aware of a distinct sound filling her ears. It wasn�t the wind or the rain or the trees, but a wail. A very loud wail � almost human. Moira began to shiver and wonder if she would get back in one piece. She saw the island approaching and the coastline appear. The boat knocked and smashed against the bank and Moira fell forwards onto the boat and grazed her knee. �Ouch!�

The wail came louder and louder, and emptied Moira�s ears of all other sound. She trudged up the mucky ground, clutching the diary. That was when she saw them. Two of them together standing before her, as real as flesh and blood, but with a pleasant yellow glow shining around them. The young girl had pale skin and long loose curly ginger hair, and she was carrying a tiny baby in her arms. The young man beside her was tall, with dark hair and a solid build, wearing a tartan outfit. Moira noticed he was carrying a rifle on his back, and there was a large wound on his chest.

�Who are you?� Moira asked.

Nessa McCloud smiled at Moira then looked down at her baby. Moira held out the diary towards the ghosts. �I�ve got your diary.�

Nessa looked back at Moira and handed the baby over to the man, who took it gently in his arms. She walked over to Moira, who realised her doomed ancestor looked so much like her. The ghost took the diary and giggled. �Thank you.� Nessa�s voice was ringing and hollow and it filled Moira with shivers. Nessa turned round and looked back again and her face had turned into an empty skull! The baby�s wail turned into ugly cackles and Nessa�s giggles into piercing screeches. Moira screamed and closed her eyes and felt a loud thud before the world collapsed beneath her and all went dark.

The next morning, there was a peaceful silence at Firth Cottage. The rain had subsided and a hint of sunlight was making its way through the cracks in the sky. Fiona had slept in and she only got up at nine o�clock, and began to hum her favourite tune: �Oh ye�ll tak� the high road, and I�ll tak� the low road�but wae is my heart until we meet again�on the Bonnie, bonnie banks o� Loch Lomond��

The diary had vanished during the night and so had Moira. Fiona wasn�t sure where they had gone, or even if they would be coming back. She wouldn�t know what to explain to her son when he came to collect his daughter next week. But she knew Moira would be safe with Nessa.

They were family, after all.