This is my first WWW and a late one as well. I do apologise for that. I’ve been terribly busy this week-end with family visits etc.
Anyway, here is a very rough first few sentences for a story I’ve had kicking about inside my head for many months. It’s about two young men, Ellis and Robert who have grown up together in the seaside town of Scarborough on the East coast of Yorkshire. It is set in the early years of the 20th century. As they go from boyhood to manhood so there friendship blossoms into something more.
I spent many childhood holidays I Scarborough and always felt very melancholy around the castle ruins. I often wondered why that was. It’s a very sad place I think..and not just the castle but Scarborough as a whole.
But, enough of that. To read more excerpts from other Warriors go here and enjoy.
I remember somebody once telling me that seagulls were the souls of dead sailors. And as I lie here in the shadow of the castle ruins listening to their mournful, pitiful cries as they circle the keep, I’m half inclined to believe it.
Ellis’s father, now dead, was a fisherman. And I cannot help but wonder, is he circling the keep with others of his kind? Is he perhaps screaming out his grief for his dead son as he glides and tumbles above me? I wouldn’t be surprised if he was…..because I was the cause of his sons death and, as the father died so soon afterwards (some say of a broken heart) I blame myself for both their deaths. And I have lived with that burden of guilt these six months past.
I notice how one of the birds has wheeled away from its fellows. Swooping down it lands on a jagged piece of rock very close to me, flutters then folds its wings, and cocking its head it regards me with a beady yellow eye.