NEVER TRUST A PISKIE

NEVER TRUST A PISKIE

Never trust a piskie,Sam stood on the top of the cliff, the waves beneath clashed with the rock, causing the smell of salt and seaweed to be thrown upwards.

With his eyes closed and the wind pushing past him, hurrying onto the land behind him, in a race away from the angry seas, he could almost imagine what it was like to be the only person there.

Turning his face landward and opening his eyes, he could see a stream of walkers struggling up the cliff path towards him.

He wasn’t alone, in fact far from it. It was autumn, there was a chill in the air, but the sun was still strong, fooling unsuspecting visitors into thinking their travels would be a gentler affair.

To all the people reaching the cliff top that day, Sam would go unnoticed. Simply a boy enjoying a walk before winter set in with his family.

Even Sam did not know the full extent of his own connection with the landscape he now viewed. It wasn’t quite time for him to find out, but every year his story was edging ever closer.