Young Writers Society

Seagulls are widely misunderstood creatures. This particular seagull didn’t really care in the slightest about human opinions and concepts. It had other problems on its mind. One of which was an algebra equation. You could go as far as to say it was really starting to bring out the misunderstood, bad tempered side of the seagull. But all credit to it, whenever it had broken down the problem and had an answer, an unwelcome wave came and ruined its concentration. The water on which the seagull’s feathery behind rested on was intensely cold. The waters numbing particles penetrated the flesh and then crawled across each bone like a miniature glacier.

The Logic Sea (which is where our seagull friend is at the moment) seemed to be in some sort of constant competition with The Magnet Ocean over who could lower its temperature the lowest, without taking the slightest interest in the poor holiday makers swimming in it, and occasionally dieing from the sudden drop in temperature. Everywhere you looked you could see water stretching out in every direction. Even if you quickly scanned the land mass, which appeared totally inferior, your eyes were quickly drawn back to a wave that the sea had quickly conjured up to impress. Each wave that crashed into the cliffs made a defiant roar as it hit and since rock cliffs don’t make much conversation, there was an awkward silence until the next wave struck. During summer, families of fish could be seen wandering the crystal clear waters. Old wrecks of boats littered the rocks, jagged and strutting out in a menacing fashion, but the flowers and plants that had over grown them made it more of a dangerous rockery.

Watching this display of concentration and then in quick succession desperation from the seagull, were two night black eyes. These eyes belonged to a man named Bothiel and if you took the time to look carefully enough, you would find they were the most beautiful eyes one could ever hope to come across in ones life. In the middle of the eye the centre of the universe loomed. Running outwards likes veins from a heart were millions of galaxies and constellations. You could get lost in those eyes for hours exploring the immense space, which somehow existed in the tiny space of two eyes. It’s a shame no one had ever bothered to tell him about them and maybe it was just shear misfortune he had never looked in a mirror before. Possibly because he broke every mirror he came into contact with. He was the sort of person who would stand at the top of a hill in the middle of a raging thunder storm, wearing copper armour and at the top of his voice, shout “All gods are stupid!”

Word of Bothiel’s arrival had spread quickly in the little port of Tarmeena. A merchant or possibly a priest? The thief and assassin gangs were already weighing up their options. It was the money that had them fixed. Who ever this eccentric character was, he was incredibly rich and he was totally unaware of the dire situation he was in. He was dressed in emerald green attire accompanied with small muddy brown leather boots. The slightly idiotic look on his face gave the impression that his brain led its own independent life and let him get on with things. He was four feet tall and more or less equal that in width. His body moved in calculated motions, only the calculations were all wrong and it was more of a lumber when he did move. Anyone watching him navigate the small room of the cottage he was in would have found it rather amusing. He had already managed to mildly damage or completely destroy several furnishings in the room and the landlord was pretty certain redecoration would be called for by the end of the night.

Bothiel sat by the window, quietly wishing he could have done more. He hated himself, hated himself for not being strong enough when his friends were in danger. He was in a foul mood and the weather outside matched. It was a desperately cold atmosphere outside. The massive barrier walls of the harbour didn’t seem much of a defence against the destruction bent waves, and the proud trees creaked under the constant pounding from the gale. Everything was struggling against the harsh winds which hammered down like a crazed stampede of rhinos. Insects crawled under rocks, vermin scurried for cover and birds attempted to fly awkwardly homeward. Through the commotion, if you listened carefully enough you could just make out a high pitched squawk of delight, and then a cheerful looking seagull flew over head.