Legends of Levenanth: Mystery beyond the sea

In the tranquility of the meadow, Neil Hartnett sat quietly and watched, hoping to see a familiar face. He closed his eyes and felt a soft breeze brush against his skin. Bees buzzed among the beautifully fragrant wildflowers nearby, and Neil listened in anticipation, allowing his senses to take over as his mind settled into a peaceful stillness. Then, at last, he heard the sound of tiny footsteps approaching in the distance.

He slowly opened his eyes and saw the small white lamb he had encountered in his dreams before, though never so close. He spent much of his time dreaming of this innocent creature, always waiting for it to appear. He never knew why, but he knew it was important.

Neil held out a handful of oats, hoping the lamb would come closer. He remained perfectly still, patiently waiting as the little creature inched towards him. After a few minutes, the lamb looked into Neil's eyes, seemingly certain that it was safe with him. It began eating from his hand, and just like that, the dream came to an end.

It was late autumn in 1907, in Howth, a small fishing town near Dublin, Ireland. Waking from his slumber, Neil leapt out of bed and ran downstairs as though it were Christmas morning. He had never been so excited to share a dream with his father. Clifford was practically Neil's best friend, and the two told each other just about everything.

Neil didn't find many people in the little town of Howth with whom he could truly connect. There were a few young men around his age, but only one with whom he could have a proper conversation. Garrett Barr was his name, and though he was the most mature out of the group, Neil didn’t seem to have much in common with him at all, and Garrett rarely laughed at his jokes. Therefore, Neil took most pleasure in spending time with his father, who almost always appreciated his wit. 

Once Neil reached the kitchen, he pulled out the chair at the breakfast table and sat down.

“I had that recurring dream again,” Neil said to his father, who was sitting across from him.

“The one with the goat?” Clifford asked as he spread jelly on his toast.

“It's a lamb, Dad,” Neil corrected him.

“Oh, sorry. My mistake.” Clifford smiled, teasing his son.

“Well, I've only told you this dream about ten times now. I think you should remember by now that it's a lamb,” Neil said jokingly.

“Don't get uppity with me, boy. I'm old; my memory isn't what it used to be.”

Neil rolled his eyes playfully. “Sixty-two is not that old, Dad. You have no excuse.”

Clifford chuckled and took another bite of toast. “So, you had the dream about the lamb again.”

“Yes, but this time was different. I wasn't just watching him like I normally do. This time, I had food. I was offering it to him, and he ate it out of my hand. I think that means something,” Neil said.

“Hmm. Maybe it means you have a caring heart and are willing to support people who are vulnerable,” Clifford answered.

“Wow, Dad. That's good, but I kind of feel like there's more to it than that.”

“Well, you'll have to figure it out later. We're going to be late to the market.”

“The market?! I thought we were fishing today,” Neil asked, feeling blindsided.

“We are, but first I have to pick up some more bait,” Clifford answered.

“Dad, no. What if we run into Bridget?” Neil asked anxiously.

“She might not be there.”

“She's always there! It's like she's waiting for me to show up!” Neil said, clearly distressed.

“Don't be silly. She's not waiting for you.”

Bridget O’Keeffe was an annoyingly desperate woman when it came to men. She was in her late forties and had never been married. Bridget had earned herself quite a reputation around the village for pursuing any man she fancied and following him until he made it abundantly clear that he wanted nothing to do with her. For some inexplicable reason, she had now set her sights on Neil, a skinny twenty-three-year-old fisherman who gave little thought to marriage. Mostly because there weren’t many attractive young women in Howth; even so, Neil would rather die wifeless than marry a creepy woman more than twice his age. The thought of seeing Bridget made Neil's toes curl.

“I think I will just wait for you at the docks,” Neil scowled.

“If that’s what you want.” His father replied.

Neil enjoyed fishing with his dad, finding peace in the calmness of the sea and pleasure in the interesting conversations they shared. Fishing was how they earned their living, as it was for many families who lived near the harbour. It didn't bring in much, but it paid the bills. Like many working-class families in Ireland, the Hartnetts had little to spare.

For as long as Neil could remember, his father had worked tirelessly just to make ends meet. As a single father, Clifford had raised Neil on his own, taking on the responsibilities of both parents. Even so, he always seemed to remain in good spirits and set a fine example for his only son. Ever since Neil had grown old enough to understand the struggles of life, he had vowed to do everything in his power to give back to the man who had worked so hard to provide for him.

As Neil sat down to put on his old fishing boots, his uncle burst into the house.

“Aye! Come on, you two! We gotta get a move on if we want to catch anything worth selling!” Robert yelled.

“We’re coming. Don’t make a fuss,” Clifford answered.

“I want to get something good today. Hey, do ya think maybe we’ll catch a sixteen-foot sturgeon?” Robert joked.

“Not a tap. Unless God has us in His good graces,” Clifford joked back.

Robert Hartnett lived right next door with his wife, Jenna, and their two young children, Rowan and Nora. Neil enjoyed his uncle’s company. Robert was a sensible man, but he could also cut up when he wanted to. Although Clifford was fourteen years older than Robert, sometimes Robert seemed like the older brother. He always made sure everyone was in line, and he hated when anyone was late for anything, especially when it concerned work.

“I need to stop by the market for some bait before we get out on the boat. Neil, are you sure you won't come?” Clifford asked once more.

Neil considered the thought. He didn’t want to avoid the market just because of Bridget. He genuinely enjoyed browsing around and seeing all that the town had to offer, but knowing she would be there was usually enough to keep him away until she chose her next victim.

“I might look around, but just for a few minutes.”

As they walked towards the market, Neil felt that familiar, uneasy sensation in the pit of his stomach. He kept a watchful eye out, hoping to avoid running into Bridget. After a few minutes, he began to think he was in the clear, but that was when the viper struck.

“Hello, Neil.”

He turned around to see the unsightly woman standing right behind him.

“H-Hi there, Bridget,” Neil greeted her, his body suddenly overcome with anxiety at the sight of her.

“Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

“Uh, no, I’ve been really busy lately. In fact, you probably won’t see me around much because of how busy I am. You know how work can be,” Neil replied nervously.

Bridget cackled as though it were the funniest thing she’d ever heard.

“Yes, I completely understand. It’s nice to see you on this lovely day. You look well,” she said, stroking Neil’s arm.

He practically jumped out of his skin.

“Right! Well, okay! Got to go now! Goodbye!” he yelped before hurrying towards the docks.

“Did you see?” Neil asked his dad and uncle once they reached the boat.

“You mean, did we see you running away, screaming like a little girl? How could we not?” Clifford teased.

“She ambushed me! She–”

“We know, son. I’m only messing,” Clifford interrupted, reassuring him.

“Now I’m definitely not going back to the market,” Neil said, a shiver running down his spine.

As they climbed into the boat and headed out to sea, Clifford and Robert continued to tease Neil about what had just taken place.

“Fine, you two can laugh all you want,” Neil said, rolling his eyes.

He cast his line, and as he waited for a bite, he took out his sketchbook and began drawing exactly what he had dreamt the night before.

“What are ya drawing?” Robert asked curiously.

“Well, I keep having this recurring dream about a lamb, so I just thought I’d draw it,” Neil answered.

Robert noticed how focused Neil was on his drawing and how much detail he put into it.

“You know, you have a real talent there. You should consider selling your art. I bet people would buy it. I know I would.”

“Thanks. I’m not sure if I’d want to sell any, though. Most of them are kind of personal,” Neil admitted.

“I’m just saying, when you have a gift like that, it should be shared with the world,” Robert said, praising his nephew.

Neil expressed himself most freely through drawing. His sketchbook was like a personal diary. Rather than writing down his feelings, he preferred to draw them. It was his way of escaping his troubles, allowing himself to relax and reflect. The thought of other people seeing those drawings was daunting, to say the least.

After a few hours of fishing, the three of them gathered up their catch and headed back to Robert’s house. As soon as they walked through the door, Robert’s son Rowan leapt out of his chair and hurried over to greet them.

“Did you guys catch anything good today?” Rowan asked excitedly.

“We did about as well as usual,” Robert replied.

“Neil, look! I’ve been practicing my sketching!” Rowan exclaimed, holding a drawing of a horse up to Neil’s face.

“That’s pretty good, Rowan. I think you’re getting better.”

Ever since Rowan was old enough to walk, he had decided that Neil was his favourite person in the world, and he wanted to be just like his cousin. Neil had no idea why, but he was flattered nonetheless. Everything Neil did, Rowan wanted to do too. Everywhere Neil went, Rowan wanted to follow. While most people might find having a ten-year-old shadow rather annoying, Neil actually enjoyed the companionship. Rowan had a way of brightening a room simply by being himself, which was always refreshing in a town like Howth.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Rowan asked curiously.

“Well, Garrett and I were planning to walk out by the railroad tomorrow afternoon,” Neil said.

“Can I come? Please?” Rowan begged.

“It’s a possibility, but you’ll have to talk to your mum and dad about it.”

“Momma! Can I please go with Neil and Garrett tomorrow?” he asked Jenna, who was in the kitchen cutting some potatoes.

“We can discuss it, but I’d like you and your sister to help me prepare dinner first,” she replied.

Later that night, as Neil lay asleep in bed, he began to dream.

He stood gazing in awe at a large white castle surrounded by a moat. Within the castle grounds, seven men stood blowing golden trumpets. It almost seemed as though they were announcing Neil’s arrival to the entire kingdom.

Before anything more could happen, Neil awoke.

He immediately felt the urge to draw what he had seen in his sketchbook. He looked around his room but couldn’t find it. He thought he must have left it downstairs, so he made his way to the kitchen. Just as he had suspected, the book lay on the kitchen table. 

What he hadn’t expected was to find his father sitting there, weeping, the sketchbook open to a particular page, and beside it sat an empty bottle of whiskey.