The Kelpie of Loch Ness

Prologue: Impossible occurrences

Michael Robertson laid back and lit a cigarette. It was only eight more days until the smoking ban, so he may as well make the most of it. The waters of Loch Ness glistened in the moonlight. Robertson was a thirty-eight year old accountant from Dover, and was up in Scotland to get a break. He was staying in Foyers, and had gone down to the Loch to get some air. He was sitting in a small deck chair, looking into the murky waters of Loch Ness. As he looked, he could just imagine a reptilian head on a long snakelike neck draw up from the waters. He shook his head. It's not real, Robertson, just a load of crap invented by the Scottish tourist board. On the opposite side of the Loch, the castle was silhouetted against the moon. Splash. Robertson heard the noise distinctively and looked round, but just saw ripples on the Loch. Then another splash. He saw the spray this time in Urquart bay.

"What the hell?!" He wondered, and then saw a wake moving from the place where the splashes had happened, towards him.

"Jesus!" He reached for his camera, and ran along toward the small jetty, trying to get a closer look. He ran across the jetty, and snapped a picture. A head splashed out, followed by a snakelike neck. He took a photo of this, then took another step forward. He realised too late that he had been standing at the end of the pier, and plunged into the icy depths.