Cǽrvelle-The Journey

Prologue

Cǽrvelle.

What an interesting word. Truly, it means something that is often overlooked, outspoken, or underestimated. You will not find it in a dictionary, if you are the type to try that sort of thing. It is technically not even a word at all, but the name of a place. Moreover, a fictional place at that. It holds no meaning in our own world, not worth it to even casually pitch it out in conversation, or mention it over dinner. Most folks would simply tilt their heads at you and frown, confused. Only a very select few, a very carefully chosen, yet completely random few, would know what you mean, and would smile to themselves and remember a time, maybe not far away or long ago, but certainly so utterly unreachable it would be almost comical if it weren't so sad.

Anyhow, please allow me to introduce myself. I call myself Collin, or at least that is what my parents called me. Collin Alastair McKinnon. Probably one of the most Scottish names one could come up with, but then again; I am Scottish. I was born between Glasgow and Edinburgh sometime in the winter of 1899, but the specific date I will not tell you. I lived in a smallish house with my parents and two sisters, one named Annabel, and the other Lynette. I was the oldest of the three of us, a grand old 17, with Annabel close behind at 15, and Lynette a mere 11, although all of us got on marvellously, regardless of our age differences. Oh, those were the times. Back when I was young and carefree, ignorant and blissful, so oblivious of the outside world I thought I lived in a bubble. Then, six months past my 14th birthday, I became aware, possibly for the first time, of how large our world actually was.

My father was a grand old man, the type that scares you, with his six foot four and surly demeanour, long wooden pipe, long grey moustache, thick woollen coat and tie, and yet is one of the most splendid fathers a child could wish for, of any age. I never knew much of my father; however, as it was only when I was 14 years of age that my father was forced to leave my family and me. You see, my father was the owner of a very large shipping company, one of the largest that operated between the U.K and the Americas, and possessed a rather important charter from the queen. However, in 1812, he and several of his ships were, through manner of great legal interest that I had no idea the inner workings of, my Father was forced to join the navy and fight in the Great War. My family has no true knowledge of his death, which occurred just a mere 7 months after his forced enlistment, but was told to us by the small, off-white slip of paper that came in a manila envelope in the cold morning of February 24th. My mother, sinking into a deep depression, died very nearly after that, of a broken heart. Therefore, with no relatives this side of the Atlantic, my sisters and me were sent off to a boarding school slightly north of Edinburgh.

When I first arrived at the boarding school, the impressive Strathallan School for Girls & Boys, I remember feeling a flutter of excitement, despite our morbid and mournful past. Its giant stone turrets, immense grey walls, and colossal oaken doors, spoke volumes of its untold secret passages, ancient tapestries, and history inside. However, I was thoroughly unimpressed upon my entrance, as while the entry did indeed have tapestries, they were measly in size and in stark contrast to the concrete floor and electric lighting inside. My sisters and I were separated nearly as soon as we arrived, with my sisters headed for the younger portion of the school, while I was introduced to my roommate, a rough chap named Will.

"So where on god's green earth did you spring from?" were Will's first words to me, and I could only respond with an attempt at cheerfulness.

"Only from Falkirk, not too far a ways from here."

"Whatever. My name's Will, in case you were interested."

"Pleasant to meet you Will, I'm Collin." At this, he turned at my, a rather annoyed expression displayed on his face.

"I never asked you what your name was."

I was quiet for the rest of our short encounter; before I was ushered on to meet my teachers and tutors.