Among the pebbles of the beach lie the teeth of the Loch Ness Monster. She was taken on a Christmas Eve when a cordon raised little notice. Medicine in her bones, they said, oil in her skull, the rarest flavour in her fins. Some anonymous pickled and mounted her eyes while the heart was smuggled, cremated and returned to the waters. Only the teeth were set aside for study. But as the New Year turned, a chartered plane took off in desperate weather and a chill ran away with the pilot’s spine.
Beneath skimming stones, the legend lives on.
David Hartley writes strange stories about strange things for strange people. He likes it when things are a bit strange.