A Trip to Loch Ness

Untitled Part 1

<strong style="font-size: 13.5pt;">CHAPTER 1: PROLOGUE

There is nothing more beautiful than a Loch Ness sunrise.

Few alive would doubt Betty Wilson's words. As the man stood there, staring out over miles and miles of open water, he couldn't stop the smile from spreading over his lips. Betty had sailed many rivers, lakes, lochs, and oceans in his fifty years, but the expanse before him would always be his favorite.

Betty's loving gaze and fond memories were interrupted by the screeching of a car behind him. Betty spun around and started walking across the tiny dock towards his new partner.

"So you know to call me every six hours on the dot?" the curly-haired woman in the driver's seat asked the teenager in the back.

"I'll call you when I can, mother," the young man said with a roll of his eyes.

"And you'll wear your life jacket at all times?"

"As much as it embarrasses me, yes momma, I'll wear it all the time."

The woman smiled and gave her son a hug just as Betty stopped in front of the car. He got a good look at the dame; she was just a few years younger than he but still a looker. He offered a pleasant smile, but she pulled back a slight after spotting his golden tooth. Ay, why can't all the ladies appreciate the finer things in life? he thought in amusement.

"You must be Betty, the man in charge," she offered while releasing her son.

"Aye, I am," Betty agreed. "And don't worry, I'll take good care of your boy."

"See that you do," she sternly instructed. "I may not look like much, but I'm worth two of you in a fight."

"I don't doubt it," Betty said with another grin. This time the woman smiled back before wishing her son one last farewell and driving away.

Man and boy stared at each other after the car had turned around the road's bend. Alone on a tiny dock of Loch Ness, with only the occasionally whishing of the wind or lowly wave making noise, they felt like the only two people on Earth.

Betty studied the teen intently. Short and curly brown hair was covered with a fitting black beret. A baggy white jumpsuit covered whatever clothes the boy was wearing underneath. A tiny suitcase, looking as if it had been battered by dozens before the lad, was clutched in his right hand. Betty couldn't help but smile at the boy's expression; he seemed simultaneously ready for anything but frightened of everything.

"So, I guess I need to ask. How old are you?" Betty inquired with a crossing of his arms. The lad's boyish features were undeniable. "Because I'm not looking to violate any labor laws on this trip."

"I'm eighteen, sir," the teen steadily answered. "Birthday was last month."

"And your name? I must confess I've forgotten since I hired you."

"Timothy Murray."

Betty cracked a smile and held out his hand, which Timothy immediately shook. "Well, Timothy Murrary, I'm glad to have you aboard. Let's get your things loaded up. I don't think it'll take but a moment."

Timothy nodded, clutched his luggage tighter, and tried to follow Betty to his boat. The young man was caught aback when his boss refused to walk in front of him, instead Betty kept slowing his pace so the two might walk side by side.