Strange Beginnings// j.p.

Chapter 3- Cairnholm Sweet Cairnholm

Wow, what even was that writers block? It's been a million years and I'm sure everyone has forgotten about this little story by now, but for those of you wondering, I quit writing for a while, with my mental health taking a decline my junior and senior year of high school. I'm now a freshman in college, but mentally I'm doing better since I've made some changes in my personal life, and I'm feeling like I'm back to a place where I can dedicate a bit of my time to writing stories again. Hopefully I've gotten better at writing as opposed to worse during this little hiatus. And now, without further ado, here's another chapter of Strange Beginnings!

    As I expected, convincing Jacob's parents into letting him spend part of his summer on a tiny island off the coast of Wales with his girlfriend who they strongly dislike- well, it was about as easy as trying to wrestle a greased alligator. At first, they came up with countless arguments and excuses as to why he couldn't go. It was expensive, Jacob was going to stay in Tampa to learn how to run Smart-Aid, there wasn't a responsible adult to go with him. But then, things started to go right for us. First, Jacob's uncle Bobby suddenly got cold feet on the whole Tampa trip, so Jake's schedule was wide open. Then, his dad found out that the island was inhabited by the largest population of some rare bird he was obsessed with and could write a book on. But the final thing, and probably the most important thing, was that Dr. Golan agreed we should go. "It could be vital to the healing of his mind," he told Maryann in one session, "For him, this island has been mythologized to be some kind of legendary safe haven. It would be good for him to see how mundane and uninteresting it really is. It would be highly useful in combating fantasy with reality." I rolled my eyes and stifled a groan of frustration. "Alright, I get that. But does she have to go?" Maryann asked, shooting a dirty look my way. Dr. Golan pushed up his glasses. "Mr. and Mrs. Portman, I understand you have some reservations about your son's relationship with this girl. But the fact of the matter is, she is his only real tie to reality right now. He trusts her, he lets her in easily, and he lets her see the sides of him no one else can. There is no better person I could imagine going on this trip with him than her." With that statement, it was final. Jacob and I would travel to the Welsh island of Cairnholm for three weeks, accompanied by Jake's dad.

     Getting to the island was hard. Thirty-six hours in total- three planes, two layovers, napping in dirty train stations, and finally a nausea-inducing ferry ride- and I didn't even know if Jacob would benefit from what we found on the island. I was shivering and miserable, even in the slight warmth of Jacob's arms. He looked just as sick and miserable as I felt, and I knew if we didn't reach land soon, both Jacob and I would be feeding our breakfast to the birds. Speaking of birds, Jacob's dad seemed to have forgotten just how miserable he was at the sight of all the birds wheeling above our heads. He ran around the deck, pointing out different species to us. But what caught the attention of Jacob and myself was the dark shapes looming just under the water, the closer we got to shore. A crewman passing by noticed the two of us leaning over the railing to get a better look, and he laughed, "Never seen a shipwreck before, eh?" I turned to look at him. "A shipwreck? Really?" He nodded vigorously, "Oh sure. This whole area is a nautical graveyard. It's like the old captains used to say- 'Twixt Hartland Point and Cairnholm Bay is a sailors grave by night or day!'" At that moment, we passed a wreck that was so close to the surface it looked ready to rise from its watery grave. "See that one?" the sailor said, pointing to it, "Sunk by a U-boat, she was." "There were U-boats around here?" Jacob asked, and the sailor nodded again. "Loads. Whole Irish Sea was rotten with German subs. I'd reckon you'd have half a navy if you could raise all the ships they torpedoed around here." He gestured to the water dramatically, and then stalked off laughing. Jacob and I stood at the railing hand in hand, watching the shipwrecks passing underneath us. We docked on the island and dragged our luggage onto solid ground, trying to adjust and let the nausea pass. Upon closer inspection of the quaint, cute village, I decided it wasn't as cute as it looked from afar. All the cottages were identical, whitewashed walls and satellite dishes in the roofs, with noisy diesel generators that powered the tiny island running outside every cottage. Towards the edges of town, run-down, abandoned cottages that stood as a testament to the dwindling population of an island forgotten to the world.