Fionn

“Where I come from…” His voice deadened. He tried once more. His mouth opened wider than a salmon’s before quickly closing. A nervous pulse rushed through his neck. Ahead of the room, he saw the long rows of school chairs staring at him, as he stood at the centre of their attention. Class had never felt so intense. 

“Come on, Fionn!” Elizabeth was always the class cheerleader. “We want to know where you’re from.” Mrs. Finagon sternly lowered her skeleton like hand till it was level at her thigh.

Silence.

Fionn gazed down at his project. All the words on the pages began to jump out at him like leaping fish. Why couldn’t he catch them? The sweet smell of freshly salted air filled his nose till it tickled his mind. Suddenly, there was a sea! Fionn was by the sea side!

The warmth of the stoney beaches glistened like a summers sun. If he’d of known, he would have brought his sunglasses along. The shuddering sound of roaring waves thrashing against the cliff side rumbled through his breakfast belly. No lunch for Fionn today! Was that a boat? Fionn’s eyes squinted with excitement. Closer, closer, a bit more to this side. Yes, there was a boat! It sliced through the waves like a dolphin’s fin, sailing away into the blue. 

Then there was another. And another. And another! 

Where were they sailing too? 

Fionn squinted harder, as he tried to shield his eyes from the sun. Did he know one of the sailors? “Grandad?” Fionn said to himself. Was it him? Or was it just another trick of the sea? Fionn squinted harder, just to make sure if he were... 

“Grandad,” Shrieked Fionn! His sapphire eyes glistened with excitement. It was Grandad. “I’m over here! Grandad! It’s me, Fionn! Come get me!” The words came echoing back at him, as Fionn stood by the shore like a washed up sea shell. A strong sea breeze brushed through his red hair. “I’m here, Grandad.” Fionn’s mouth began to dry up with grief was he watched Grandad’s boat sail further and further away from him. Why wasn’t Grandad listening?

“Fionn?” 

Said a muffled voice, as the strong sea wind washed Fionn away. 

“Fionn? Would you like to share with the class where you’ve come from?” 

Mrs. Finogen? She smiled politely, as Fionn found himself back in the same position he’d been in for the past couple of minutes. “Must have been having an adventure,” she said, taking her seat at her teachers desk. Her smile softened the rough patches. “Ready?” Fionn nodded slightly, correcting his thick glasses before they slipped down his nose. Think of Grandad, Fionn thought to himself. Think of Grandad. 

But Grandad wasn’t here. 

“Where I come from,” began Fionn in a sheepish tone. “Is.”

“Go on, Fionn.”

“Where, I come from, is, Scotland.”

“Wow,” beamed Elizabeth! “Did you really?” “Did you meet the Lock Ness Monster,” questioned Ryan? “Why did you move to America,” asked Diego? 

“Class,” thundered Mrs. Finogen! 

Silence. 

“I’m sure Fionn will answer all your questions, after his presentation.” That’s what troubled Fionn the most, Mrs. Finogen was like an ocean. Completely unpredictable. 

“Scotland has been my homeland all my life.” Began Fionn, again. “I was born there, near the beaches of Aberdeenshire.” His mouth quickly shut. He could feel his stomach churn a little. The thought of Scotland brought his memories back like a ship coming into harbour.

There was his big sis, Fenella, chasing after him like an albatross, round the grassy sand dunes, till he was sick and giddy. And Grandma’s warm chuckle, each time he’d come in to her kitchen dressed in muddy cloths. “What will your Granddaddy say about you, mister?” It never seemed to bother her though. But his finest memory of her was her scones, they were always a family favourite. 

“Is there anything else, you’d like to share with us, Fionn?” Interrupted Mrs. Finogen. “What was a very special part of Aberdeenshire to you? Would you like to share with us.” 

A dry wind swirled inside Fionn, as he quickly hazed away from the classroom, again. Say grandad, Fionn, why can’t you say grandad? 

He found himself staring ahead, back into the deep blue, where Grandad’s boat continued on her maiden voyage, slicing through the ocean, in hope to catch themselves a wee fish or two, as Fionn stood, by the shore, patiently waiting for his Grandad to come home. 

A crackling tide tickled his small bare feet. The salty sea air pinched his eyes, watering them slightly. The old memories of Grandad came thrashing towards Fionn like the strong sea tides, sweeping away each time the boat drifted further and further away out into sea. His light-hearted chuckle and warm smile rang through his mind like an old sea shanty. 

Would Grandad ever come back?

“Was there anything of Scotland that meant something special to you, Fionn,” said Mrs. Finogen, invading Fionn’s fantasy. The sea felt a great unease, as the waves roughened through the rage. The faint sounds of a banshee wind came seeping across the ocean, as the clouds huddled tightly together, their faces paling into a greyish smoulder. 

A storm was coming. 

“Why aren’t you here, Grandad,” wailed Fionn? The sea roared against the beautiful blue, battling its way through the moaning wind. “Why don’t you come for me? Please, come for me!” But Grandad’s boat wasn’t there. 

Grandad was gone. 

As if he felt the storm, Fionn collapsed to his knees on the hard surface of beach, as the sea’s tide washed away his tears. “Grandad,” he said, forcing his name through his swollen throat. “I miss you, tell me where you are so I can find you.” As the final tide came sweeping in, swallowing the remains of what was left, till there was nothing. 

Fionn was gone. 

A tear splattered the side of Fionn’s white sheets of paper, till a grey, smudge, like cloud puffed through. “Fionn, are you alright,” said Mrs. Finogen, her vocie was softer than usual. No word was said, just a simple nod. “Carry on if you want to, Fionn.” 

Fionn didn’t dare to look up, the thought of facing onwards without Grandad, was the last thing he wanted to imagine. His head sunk deep into his chest, drooping down, towards the empty class room floor. His little heart ached, pushing against his chest. Thump, thump, thump, it was still beating. It was still there. What did Grandad say about the heart? A thick voice rang through his head, he’d heard it before, like an echo that never left. “As long as your heart still beats, I’ll not be too far away.”

Carefully, he lifted his heavy head towards the class. He wasn’t too far away. He’d been sat there all along. In the far corner of the class, Fionn could see an old sailor, with fuzzy bear like beard, whose smile beamed brighter than a noons sea. Grandad was here. 

“Yes,” said Fionn, wiping away a tear. “I do have something special of Scotland.” 

“What is it, Fionn?”

“My Grandad, the sailor.”