Written for a 2015 Writers Challenge - Borrowed Beginnings,Stolen Endings
Choose a book, take the first and last sentences of any chapter, then use those as the beginning and ending sentences of your own story/drabble/poem.
The book I chose is Ring of Bright Water – Chapter One by Gavin Maxwell.
Beginning: I sit in a pitch-pine panelled kitchen-living room, with an otter asleep upon its back among the cushions on the sofa, forepaws in the air, and with the expression of tightly shut concentration that very small babies wear in sleep.
Ending: I crossed a solid wooden bridge with stone piers, and a moment later I turned the key on Camusfeàrna door for the first time.
Pronouns have been changed to suit.
Solitude
He sat in a pitch-pine panelled kitchen-living room with an otter asleep upon its back among the cushions on the sofa, forepaws in the air, and with the expression of tightly shut concentration that very small babies wear in sleep.
Merlin's lip quirked in a outward display of envy that the little creature could sleep this way and he could not. Sighing, he glanced out the window, taking in the breathtaking beauty of the secluded bay he called Camusfeàrna –the bay of alders. He had no idea where the little creature had come from, he had just appeared one day above the stream where Merlin collected water and had eventually wormed his way into his reclusive, lonely home.
Like any of the creatures that graced their presence around his home, the otter had free will to come and go as he pleased. Yet he stayed there, in the house with Merlin, becoming a constant companion of which the warlock had grown very fond. It made living there, in deliberate isolation, so much the better.
He found his thoughts turning towards Avalon, a place he had long avoided now. Too much pain, too many regrets, too many memories. He had lost count of how many years it had been since that dreadful day. Many times had passed, many things come and gone. Now he sat in this little refuge of peace he had somehow found for himself, letting the seasons, the years, even generations, pass him by. He shook himself, pushing away the dreary thoughts and focused on the light dappling the waters of the bay.
Camusfeàrna. It had become just one of many refuges of solace he had discovered over the centuries. It was here he had stayed the longest, mainly because of the little creature sleeping soundly on his sofa. The place wasn't the first, nor would it be the last. Yet that enchanting bay, surrounded by an alder forest, teeming with what it was he needed to survive without having to rely on civilization or, in many cases, his own magic, had captured his heart. The otter had provided sorely needed companionship in his self-imposed exile from that region lying far to the south of him now.
It didn't bother him anymore that the locals -in any location he chose to remain at for a time- viewed him as an eccentric old hermit. It pretty well summed up what it was he had become. He still had his surprises though. Like turning up in the land agents office that fateful day several years previous, offering cash for the run down stone and timber cottage situated on the coast with only one real access, several miles by foot, from the main road leading north. Of course everything was perfectly in order, legally speaking. He had nodded politely at the warnings of isolation and danger from storms being so far out of touch with civilization. He had duly noted the lack of electricity or other amenities and had firmly insisted that the place would suit his needs most adequately. Before too long he was handed a set of keys for the place, and he had set off, seeking again to escape his troubled dreams and thoughts.
The countryside was rugged, stark, beautiful and very nearly deserted. Only the occasional farm popped up, desolate and barely eking out an existence. Merlin bypassed these lonely places and continued following the meager path that lead to the headland above the little bay. He stopped at the top of the ridge, which sloped away gently from him to form the little horseshoe of a bay spread out and decked in early Autumn glory. Here he paused, taking in the glorious scenery before him, knowing that it would suit his purposes for as long as he could resist the lure of being drawn back to the south.
Nearby and to his right, a small creek, swollen with Autumn rains, tumbled and fell among the jumble of rocks leading down to a small pool at its base before wending its way down to meet the sea. It was up here, while he was fishing for elvers, just above that head of falling water he had first met the otter. Or rather, he was greeted by the little creature, who after many days of coming and going, eventually followed him down to the stone and timber cottage and settled in with him.
Merlin's envious smile slowly turned to fondness as he recalled the first time he had laid eyes on the bay. The path led down from the creek to where one had to encounter the first of only two man made constructions in the region. The house was the first one visible, this one where he paused before continuing, was a bit better hidden, at least from the top of the headland. Merlin smiled, as he pondered on that only other mark of man's existence in that area, knowing it was now his in perpetuity. He hitched his pack up onto his shoulder and set forth.
He crossed a solid wooden bridge with stone piers, and a moment later he turned the key on Camusfeàrna door for the first time.