LJ Idol // Week 27 // Noumenon
This weeks entry is a loose companion piece to week 1's Hic Sunt Dracones, but you don't need to see that one to understand this.
The entry this week is comprised of two parts, the video and the fiction, which are companion pieces of each other. They can be read/viewed either separately or together, although if you do get a chance to watch the video, that'd be 100% awesome :)
The Mapmakers of Enlin Bay (Part 1: The Video)
The Mapmakers of Enlin Bay (Part 2: The Story)
She first came to Enlin by sea. The Lonely Traveller, she was called by the people who lived in the village, for she spoke almost to no one, and revealed nothing. She simply arrived one day in a coracle, which she abandoned to the children on the beach.
Archibald Potts was walking his dog when he first came across her, half way along the footpath between the cliff-top and the sea. He greeted her - a jovial, “Good Morning!” as one does to strangers on footpaths, but she bowed her head and walked on by. Archibald paused for a moment on the footpath, and then leaned down and whispered to the dog, “Miserable cow.” The dog - a Border Collie by the name of Rex - barked, and then cocked his leg to piss on a rock.
By the time Archibald and Rex had reached the bottom of the cliff the silent woman had been all but forgotten. They walked up and down the beach three times before Archibald let Rex off the lead. Whilst the dog bounded into the sea, Archibald stood ankle deep in the water, staring up at the clouds. It was then that he saw her again: standing high above them, at the edge of the cliff with her head thrown back and her arms outstretched. Her coat was undone, flapping in the wind. Archibald turned and walked away, whistling to Rex as he went. “Bloody jumpers,” he muttered, and went on his way.
The next morning, however, Archibald encountered the woman again. Once again, she was walking along the path from the beach to the cliff-top. “Eh up,” he said, before he could stop himself, “Thought you jumped.”
“Why would I jump?” The young woman replied, as she passed him.
Archibald spluttered slightly and opened his mouth to reply, but she had already walked on.
On the third day, Archibald waited at the top of the cliff for her to arrive. She reached the top of the cliff, walked right up to the edge and ignored him. Her coat was buttoned today, but her hair was unpinned, twisting and tangling itself in the wind. “Who are you?” Archibald called out, after a moment.
Silence. Rex barked, and then:
“My father was a mapmaker,” she said. “Twenty years ago he came to Enlin Bay with two others.” She did not turn around or lower her arms.
“They never left,” Archibald whispered softly. “I remember.”
“They scribbled notes on their maps, left them under the rocks over there and then vanished.”
“We have reached the end of everything,” Archibald spoke slowly, plucking the words out of a memory from long ago. “We stand high on a cliff, above the sea: backs to the world. We have nothing else to draw: for here is a vast expanse of nothing...”
“We have nowhere else to be,” the girl continued. “And so we write upon the sea, upon the map, the words for the unknown...”
“Hic sunt dracones,” Archibald finished. There was a brief silence before he said: “The fear of the unknown will eat all our hearts, in the end.”
The girl lowered her arms and turned to face him. “How did you know all that?” she asked.
“I was there.”
Silence.
“Did they jump?” She asked.
“Perhaps,” Archibald said, after a moment. “Perhaps they simply ran away.”
The entry this week is comprised of two parts, the video and the fiction, which are companion pieces of each other. They can be read/viewed either separately or together, although if you do get a chance to watch the video, that'd be 100% awesome :)
The Mapmakers of Enlin Bay (Part 1: The Video)
The Mapmakers of Enlin Bay (Part 2: The Story)
She first came to Enlin by sea. The Lonely Traveller, she was called by the people who lived in the village, for she spoke almost to no one, and revealed nothing. She simply arrived one day in a coracle, which she abandoned to the children on the beach.
Archibald Potts was walking his dog when he first came across her, half way along the footpath between the cliff-top and the sea. He greeted her - a jovial, “Good Morning!” as one does to strangers on footpaths, but she bowed her head and walked on by. Archibald paused for a moment on the footpath, and then leaned down and whispered to the dog, “Miserable cow.” The dog - a Border Collie by the name of Rex - barked, and then cocked his leg to piss on a rock.
By the time Archibald and Rex had reached the bottom of the cliff the silent woman had been all but forgotten. They walked up and down the beach three times before Archibald let Rex off the lead. Whilst the dog bounded into the sea, Archibald stood ankle deep in the water, staring up at the clouds. It was then that he saw her again: standing high above them, at the edge of the cliff with her head thrown back and her arms outstretched. Her coat was undone, flapping in the wind. Archibald turned and walked away, whistling to Rex as he went. “Bloody jumpers,” he muttered, and went on his way.
The next morning, however, Archibald encountered the woman again. Once again, she was walking along the path from the beach to the cliff-top. “Eh up,” he said, before he could stop himself, “Thought you jumped.”
“Why would I jump?” The young woman replied, as she passed him.
Archibald spluttered slightly and opened his mouth to reply, but she had already walked on.
On the third day, Archibald waited at the top of the cliff for her to arrive. She reached the top of the cliff, walked right up to the edge and ignored him. Her coat was buttoned today, but her hair was unpinned, twisting and tangling itself in the wind. “Who are you?” Archibald called out, after a moment.
Silence. Rex barked, and then:
“My father was a mapmaker,” she said. “Twenty years ago he came to Enlin Bay with two others.” She did not turn around or lower her arms.
“They never left,” Archibald whispered softly. “I remember.”
“They scribbled notes on their maps, left them under the rocks over there and then vanished.”
“We have reached the end of everything,” Archibald spoke slowly, plucking the words out of a memory from long ago. “We stand high on a cliff, above the sea: backs to the world. We have nothing else to draw: for here is a vast expanse of nothing...”
“We have nowhere else to be,” the girl continued. “And so we write upon the sea, upon the map, the words for the unknown...”
“Hic sunt dracones,” Archibald finished. There was a brief silence before he said: “The fear of the unknown will eat all our hearts, in the end.”
The girl lowered her arms and turned to face him. “How did you know all that?” she asked.
“I was there.”
Silence.
“Did they jump?” She asked.
“Perhaps,” Archibald said, after a moment. “Perhaps they simply ran away.”