It was beautiful. Clouds floated dreamily across the sky,
flushed pink and orange in the warm rays of the setting sun. The
ever present crash of the persevering waves against the solid,
unmoving rocks drummed in the background, blending with the
piteous cry of seagulls soaring into the sunlight.
In the midst of this, like a King on his throne stood an
island, small and picturesque.It was mainly smooth, though a few
small peaks of hills here and there hid some aspects of the place
from view. Grass sloped gently down to dark rock, which then in
turn fell away slickly to the sea, as vivid and beautiful as life
The sun dropped abruptly from view and suddenly everything
seemed so much more mysterious and dark. Perhaps this was a truer
view, for something would soon hit Atlantis, which would throw it
into turmoil, tearing apart the peace that it had enjoyed...
I was told that the sea was a turbulent rolling of mountain like
waves when I was brought into the world. Not born, but brought.
My guardians had made no secret to me that I was not their
daughter, in fact, they let me know I was not human as soon as I
was old enough to notice I had no shadow and could sort of glide
when I wanted to and had started to wonder why my mother held me
back from swimming with the other children in the coves that were
tucked in the side of the island here and there.
My mother sat me down, along with my father, and told me I was a
spirit, as were they and a few others on the island. They took me
to the special cave hidden completely from view and showed me the
spookiliy crystal clear pool of water from which I had been
Brought, floating up on a glittering breeze.
My mother told me they had needed all ten of the other spirits on
the island to Bring me out, for I was a difficult Bringing and
had thrashed about in the water, refusing to be Brought.
I was the youngest spirit by far, and though in appearance I was
not shockingly different from the other children my age, I felt
my dissimilarity keenly. I had to be careful not to let them see
what I truly was, for I was assured that it was a secret to most
of the other islanders.
Now, at sixteen, I felt I was growing out of this feeling of
displacement and beginning to accept my looks and abilities. I
was paler than the other sun browned Atlanteans and had a more
petite build, with a small heart shaped face that I was often
told looked like a pixie face. Some even went as far to call me
'Elfa' their word for pixies and elves.
My actual name, Airla, meant ethereal and that didn't help. My
hair was a coppery colour, brown streaked with red, and the sort
of rusty colour you get when a piece of metal has been left out
in the rain and forgotten about. This wouldn't have looked to
strange, but with my paler skin, it made me stand out like a sore
thumb, and I often had urgings to harshly lop it all off with one
of the hunting knives. I could never actually bring myself to do
it, but it was something else to irritate me. Instead, when I was
in this pensive, stupid mood of not belonging, I would go and
watch the sea and practice my wobbly gliding above the choppy
surf of the tide shooting across the fine sand, a light spray
tickling my bare feet, to make me forget.
But apart from that, being a spirit made me no different from the
others. Well, I hoped not anyway, I thought, glancing over from
where I was sprawled, watching the small huddle of my friends
squealing in the freezing water. I wasn't permitted to swim.
Spirits, I was told, were drowned upon submersion in water, and
that was why they had to be Brought at birth from the pool in the
cave in such a hurry. "Terms and conditions," my father had
grunted when I had first asked.
I shook my head free of thoughts as I realised Solo had collapsed
next to me, shivering violently and turning his freckle dusted
face towards the sun. His hair, which was usually a mane of crazy
curls had been pulled straight by the icy water, and was now
springing into ringlets as it dried.
My best friend. Solon, or Solo as I had nicknamed him. Solon
meant wise one in our language, and I had to agree. While I was
the reckless one, he was the thoughtful, intelligent and caring
"You looked lonely, Elfa," he teased, sprinkling diamond droplets
of water down my neck. I squealed and rolled over to retaliate,
realising only when I had touched his side that he was soaking
wet, and to tickle him would end in my getting very cold and
"Haha!" realising my dilemma, he stuck his tongue out, and
flicked me with his dripping wet fingers.
I reached over cheekily, and snatched his towel, all dry and
ready to be used, and ran.
"Oi, you minx!" he growled, and chased me, laughing as
breathlessly hard as I was as I hitched my skirts up out of the
way and ran faster. I had always been speedy, and this was when
it came in handy.
Soon it developed into a huge game of catch, as those in the sea,
seeing the fun we were having came out and joined in. It was
times like these that I loved- the long evenings where I felt
that at last, I belonged.
A/C: Please let me know what
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