real lj idol | week 30 (prompt 2) | 344 words
The Loch is not my home.
'Twas aye fair, the green borders with the hills up above. Its strange waters beckoned, drawing me from the sea and growing warmer as I wended my way in. Even the narrow passages and shallow places crowding against me mattered not, for what was that against adventure?
I was younger then, strong and reckless enough for such a long journey.
The light changed as I travelled, dark and bright and dark again, before I reached the loch at last. 'Twas strangely quiet there. No wave or tide shifted its surface, no whale-songs echoed below. Yet, it soothed me. The memory fain calls e'en now, whenever my bones grow weary or weak.
I slid along the bottom of the loch, the rocks as smooth as they'd been from the beginning of my expedition. Other places were softer than any I'd found, softer even than the bonnie brush of sand. The loch had plants to eat—not as lovely as the crisp flavor of those that swayed in the sea, but still delightful simply by grace of being new.
I swam and skulked in its deficient depths, and even wandered out toward the edges and lifted my head into the unfamiliar air. Light traded darkness many times over, and 'twas restful and enchanting. But I couldnae bide my time there forever…
The open sea called to me again. The creatures of the loch were too small to fill my belly, and I missed the cold, cold waters of the ocean's deeps. I needed room to roam broadly, and the comfort of heavy waters to stop my floating away. The loch was strange and beautiful, but 'twas not my home, and I had lingered there long enow.
I moved through the loch 'til found the soft current that led back to the passages whence I came. The journey seemed slower, for my longing was great, but at last it ended.
I tasted the braw waters of the bonnie brine, and slipped sweetly down to the inky depths I loved so well.
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