My first attempt at writing a novel - "The Sea that stood there still"

Chapter 1: Hello!


Alex Mac an tSagart stood motionless gazing out over Howth harbour still pondering intently about the next few days that he had ahead of him. To him and many of his friends this would be the defining two weeks in their young lives, this was, as Alex had hoped the beginning of life, as he wanted it. It was just fourteen days until his long awaited Leaving Certificate results would be posted to his family home in Dundrum, an area on the south side of Dublin that Alex himself believed was full of want to-be snobs living amongst well-to-do white collar culchies. It wasn’t all that bad though, as Alex’s first and still best friend Eoghan, lived two blocks down on the picturesque street of Green-Gardens Avenue. Eoghan’s parents had given him permission to have a party on the night that the results came out and everybody in Alex’s old school had been invited. The 14th of August was to be a celebration of leaving school behind them and entering the free world as Eoghan had put it. On such a night a festival atmosphere involving cheap German beer, finger food and loud contemporary American pop would ensure that this group would wake up on the 15th with headaches that proved their ‘savage’ night would be the beginning of many more to come with life at University looming. Life though at University, could well mean the end to Alex and Eoghans close proximity friendship with Eoghan guaranteed a place in Oxford University through a scholarship and Alex still waiting to see if he too would be
accepted on the 14th of August. A date he was wholeheartedly dreading.


Alex still standing still watching as the boats would come and go through the entrance to the harbour thought of all the mistakes he might have made during his exams and
how the possibility of having to let Eoghan leave him behind was becoming ever more the reality. He sat down on a nearby bench crippled internally at the notion of having to say goodbye to his best friend for his whole College life. Alex’s group of friends would even often worry about the effect it would have on both Alex and Eoghan were one of them to move away. Alex took out his mobile phone, a new purple Blackberry that his grandmother had bought him after the Leaving Cert exams, and texted to his friend Naomi for her to ring him. It was just twenty seconds before Naomi’s call came through, she was good like that, always put her friends needs first.

“Hi Meems, what’s up? I’m just out in Howth. I had to visit my Gran like so I thought I’d go for a walk along the harbour. You fancy going for coffee or something?”

There was a short pause after Alex had spoken, which worried him because Naomi would usually answer immediately, if not speak over him about how she had so much to tell him or how Ryan, her boyfriend, had just done some sappy romantic thing that made her heart melt.

“Yeah sure” came the reply in her preppy tone a moment later.
“Okay I’ll meet you at Howth train station in like 5 minutes, if that’s O.K.?”
“Yeah sure I’ll drive down, seeya then Alex. Bye”
“Talk to you then Meems”

The conversation ended, although it was just a question of where will they meet up, Alex found it eerily strange that Naomi had not been her over enthusiastic self and that the conversation did not last more than a solitary minute. Could something be wrong he thought to himself?


Ten minutes after the call Alex was still standing waiting for Naomi to arrive at the train station. He wouldn’t normally worry about it, she could be held up in traffic or putting her make up on or something like that, but after such an odd phone call as the one earlier he couldn’t help but think that Naomi could perhaps be in danger or that something was really wrong. She just wasn’t acting herself at all. Maybe I should give her a call he thought. No credit in his own phone he opted to use the pay phone across the road. The phone rang out for longer than Alex wanted to imagine. He called her again, this time she answered but instantly hung back up again. Alex was really starting to think something was up and headed towards Naomi’s house, just a fifteen-minute walk from the train station. It would feel like an hour walk this time though.

Alex’s heart thumped ever more with his limbs skimming the pathways as if he were actually gliding. His pace quickened when Naomi’s house came into view. It stood there; it’s Georgian architecture so prominent amongst the leafless trees of the autumn. Alex, however, spotted something that really started to panic him more than ever before. Naomi’s front door was swung open and was being battered in and out with the soft breeze. Her big purple door stood out amid all the red and blue, ordinary coloured, bland houses but today it lay open its colour hidden from plain view. Such a frightening revelation pressed at Alex to run. He did not run however, he merely half-heartedly jogged as if he was afraid to witness his friend in distress sooner than he could help to.

He reached the three short steps to the garden and peered through the door, he couldn’t see anything. The walls were blackened as if they had been burned or painted a dark rustic colour. Naomi wouldn’t paint the house; she is too lazy he thought to himself. Then as he slowly stuttered towards the wide opened door, it slammed shut. Startled, Alex leapt back and retreated behind the huge oak that stood in the garden. His shirt now drenched in sweat. His heart was beating as if it were being pushed to its limit.

‘What do I do, this is not normal’ he murmured.

All the while, without his knowledge, a dark shadow paced the front hallway watching Alex as he lay against the great oak shivering without a clear thought in his mind. Alex had thought about calling the Gardaí but then on second thinking he assumed that maybe nothing was wrong and it was just the wind that made the door slam so harsh. He picked himself up and approached the door ready to thump the knocker against the purple wood of the ageing door.

One, Two, Three went the loud, eerie, long, consistent knocks and then an equally long, consistent, eerie silence followed before the door creaked open and Alex softly brushed it the rest of the way and entered in a cautious manner. The door once again slammed shut. The street went quiet, the houses stood quiet and Alex was made stay quiet after such a loud bang that was Naomi’s Georgian door being forced shut. A clenched fist now rested against the framework.

Beauty is hidden behind a haircut!!

The picture on the left shows how people are more beautiful with a simple 'let's push all my hair up and over here' look! Bangs are a thing of the past it seems. Look how his eye colour and bone structure is brought out with the shorter hair. Beautiful!! Foreheads are the new Lips :P

Morals?

It is considered a victorious adventure when one, through physical and mental observation can detect the road on which they have travelled. When each stage on a certain path in life can be mapped lucidly and when it is noticeable to the human mind that life has moved on. The fact that one has been stimulated from a certain stage of life to what is deemed a higher position of moral strength is alone the splendour of our motivation towards a destiny. A metaphorical podium is erected after a decisive journey is made. A mission accomplished. A goal fulfilled. These prestigious periods in life, these remembered events and celebrated objectives are known and held in high regard as the rewards behind mankind’s motivation for a better existence, for peace and for civil eternity. As the human race we believe we know how to differentiate good from bad, right from wrong, and left from right. But how do we know that our theories are correct? Do we wholeheartedly agree with our morals? Has right and wrong been exposed or has it been defined by one social class, the class with power. Have we questioned right or wrong or have we just approved. Have we been led like sheep to believe that one countries vested interest in another’s land is different to one groups’ passion and pride in serving and expressing their beliefs? Do we judge and make accusations or do we go through a means of moral questioning first? Do we stop to think about the balance, the similarities and that maybe both sides subsist to be on the wrong side of immoral humanity? It is with great pleasure that I draw on one of the world finest poets to ever live, Alexander Pope to illustrate this argument. Pope states that: “The way of the Creative works through change and transformation, so that each thing receives its true nature and destiny and comes into permanent accord with the Great Harmony: this is what furthers and what perseveres”. Each mapped location one step closer to a destiny in which man is inspired to achieve. Every problem encountered an obstacle used to educate. Each and every desire we encounter is focused on a better life, be that the greed of one man or a shared belief of mankind that all should be municipally held and enjoyed. In solidarity we must learn to question our morals and our beliefs, we must aspire to find a better solution to life’s everlasting struggle and we must together educate that Love and Peace have greater strength and power than that of War and Hate. If a path in life can be mapped then surely it can be influenced, changed, hindered and altered. There is always chance to choose and choice of chance. As mankind we can stand against the evil of war. We can educate the majority inspired by wealth and greed that violence is not in anyway a tried and tested means of finding or creating peace.