Seaside Gothic

Fiction | Poetry | Nonfiction

0
Your Cart

Keills

Keills by Zusana Storrier

It was here at Keills. Past the church and its stone knights, round the Point and looking across to the brown hills of Jura. Angus was to brickie on a sunroom up the road and the farm folk had let us camp on the track, it was all agreed. The weather was cloudless and the sea a shawl of diamonds when we’d arrived at noon, but two hours later everything was bruise-coloured and the storm didn’t cease for four days, so that we were nearly defeated by the batter of winds and the din on the roof. On the second day, Angus roped and bouldered the caravan, but still it juddered and rocked until we talked about the Tayvallich woods, though we knew there’d be calls made if we showed up there.

To view this content you must be a member of a paid Patreon subscription tier.
Login with Patreon
OR