YSJ Anthology 2015

their nests on the ground above the cliff were covered by the snow
and some had eggs in – John was the focus of their fury and the
massive birds, drawn back to the cliff by the alarm calls of the other
seabirds, threw themselves down on him through the windless skies
above the cliffs. The sacking protected John’s head and he kept his
eyes down but at last one great bird made contact and dashed him
against the rocks with its weight, tearing the skin from his face with
its sharp beak and making his head spin with pain and panic. His feet
slipped on the icy ledge and he swung from the rope blinking the
blood out of his eyes and feeling desperately for a foothold. At that
moment a group of guillemots which had landed on the snowy ledge
above took off together to avoid the shrieking fury of the maddened
Skua. The snow and ice below their feet cracked with the vibration of
their ascent and dropped like a steel curtain on to the figure of John
below. The cascade of ice and stones took John completely unaware,
the noise of the birds echoing against the cliff had left him no
warning and the heavy avalanche took him full on the head and
knocked him unconscious. The rope slipped from his hands and he
fell toward the huge boulders on the shore below.
***
When he came to, there was a tearing pain in his side and it was
dark; his eyes were closed by the blood which had run from his head
and frozen into a sticky mess on his lashes. The sack full of birds
which was strapped to his back was still there and as he very slowly
and cautiously put out his hand in the darkness he felt the smooth
cold rock face and winced at the motion of the rope as it cut into his
waist. John blinked his eyes and rubbed his face with his hands,
eventually his vision returned and he realised that little time had
passed since he fell. The sun was lower but not yet set and the birds
were still wheeling and calling above him and far out to sea.
Protected by the padding of a dozen dead gannets he had survived a
fair fall; his lovingly crafted rope had held him. Below he could make
out the carved timber cross above the Preacher’s Cave, projecting
from the cliff. He knew that this cross was not too high off the
ground, for it was him who had fastened it there several years ago.
If he could get to the cross then from there he could make it to the
ground if he was careful; he had done so before.
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