There was the open sea, there was Village Bay, there was the church and next to it the manse where the minister lived, there were the houses where everyone else lived, there was the gently sloping ground which became gradually steeper, and finally, touching the sky, there were the hills, of which the tallest was Conachair. That was my world from front to back, and I knew nothing else. If you had asked me what lay behind the hills I would truthfully have said that I did not know, but I had somehow formed the impression that the pattern continued in reverse, and that beyond what I could see the ground fell away again quickly at first and then more easily before the land ended in another bay leading out into more sea. Perhaps there would have been more houses too, and that would be where the men did their work, or, if not that, then perhaps this other bay would be where the sea birds could be found and were caught each day.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Stories Of Many Kinds to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.