The People of the Sea: A Lovecraftian Horror Story

The People of the Sea

A legend says that on the wind of the North Atlantic, there is carried a key to a strange land. A place of unequalled beauty and unparalleled nightmare. For too long I thought those stories the product of whimsical minds. Lazy lips espousing wishful dreams about what truly lies beyond the horizon. Now, I know that, like most legends, a seed of truth has long been planted in the cultural memory of our ancestors. Some intrepid soul had once entered that forbidden land, perhaps more than once. It just so happens that I am the most recent guest - invited or kidnapped, choose whichever suits your interpretation.

It was near the Isle of Lewis off the Northeast coast of Scotland where I first encountered that land. Lewis is in the far corner of the United Kingdom and, with its sprawling grassy lowlands, faces the oncoming winds from the Atlantic. Seas swell, tides beat against the rocky shore, and the people who inhabit this part of the world are rugged, kind, and stoic.

Unfortunately, my contact with the people there lasted only a few days. After a scenic stay in Morsgail House, I travelled by car and then boat across the water to Little Bernera. This remote island is uninhabited, perhaps the reason that its secrets have remained hidden for so long. No permanent population has lived there since the 1800s, but evidence for its original inhabitants reaches far back into the midst of time. Forgotten peoples with equally forgotten beliefs and, dare I say, sciences.

What brought me to the island was my research. I was working on a thesis for my PhD at Strathclyde University, one which I hoped would forge my name in the annals of British and Scottish archaeology. Most of the ancient languages of Scotland were long forgotten. The cultures of those peoples who, thousands of years ago, had once roamed the mountains, glens, and islands of that mysterious country had always held a fascination for me. I wish I had never developed that fascination, for it has led me into the most frightening of places.

I will not bore you with my academic work any further. Time is short. Suffice to say, I had developed a theory that, much like several islands which had sunk into the Mediterranean, ancient stories suggested that at one time a large piece of land had collapsed into the dark abyssal sea off the coast of Scotland, taking with it an entire people and its culture.

This theory was roundly discredited and mocked by my colleagues. Nonetheless, there were tantalising fragments of knowledge suggesting this reality. Allusions in ancient texts, depictions of a calamity carved in rock, and even an old folktale about 'daoine anns a 'mhuir'. The rough translation of which is 'the people of the sea'.

With arduous research, I had discovered that the Isle of Lewis was most likely the closest place to where this mysterious land had fallen. Furthermore, that Little Bernera was intimately connected with the legend of the sea people and what befell them. This uninhabited island sat in the mouth of a huge sea loch. My research suggested that when the sea people and their land fell into the dark swells of the North Atlantic, one of its survivors washed up on the shores of Little Bernera aeons ago.

I am proficient in sailing and hired a small fishing boat for three days - all that my research budget would allow me. As I approached Little Bernera breathing in the sea air, I marvelled at its beauty. An arching bay filled with sand and pebbles welcomed me as I tied my boat to an old weathered mooring. The wind carried itself across the landscape, covering the surroundings in a sharp salted scent.

On a hill nearby was the only standing building, an old slated fish-curing where the local fishermen once processed their catch. But it was not this structure which was the focus of my research. No; it was to the many headstones that dotted the hills as they rose and dipped around me. You see, Little Bernera has another secret - the entire island is a graveyard.

The crofting town of Carloway used the island as a burial ground until its residents finally created their own cemetery nearby. They would cross the water and bury their dead in the soil, marking the site with a headstone. Looking around at the windswept low-lying hills and rocks that looked out to the infinite depths of the sea, I understood why such a place could be seen as an entryway to the afterlife.