A Story for a Selkie

It didn’t sting when I beached myself on the gravely shore. Fur and fat simply slid across the rocks, aided by the tide. My eyes cleared from the brine and revealed the silhouette of a woman who paid my group little notice. Instead, choosing to spend her attention raking rocks together and tossing the unimpressive. I barked to her. Though she heard me, she only flinched and continued. I barked again, closer now, flippers pushing me from the water. “These rocks won’t spark!”

I slipped my feet from within, and ran a finger up the slit of my belly. My tail dragged behind, kicking up stones and twigs. This close I could see she’d been crying. Her hands trembled as she threw another stone. Wordlessly, I stomped the pile flat, spilling its contents. In the moonlight the flint glistened. “There”, I took the oblong piece of steel from her. Before she had time to argue, the fire was lit and embers joined the stars. Still, she looked sullen.

“Can you hide this?” I asked her, offering the rusty bit.

“Yes,” she reached, but it flew above us. My foot found two more rocks from the pile and kicked them up.

“Can you?” I laughed. I began to juggle them, tossing one behind my shoulder and catching it before she could to grab it. “Is it too much responsibility?”

“Yes, I can! Just give it here!” her quick-but-not-quick-enough hand darted past me, grazing my whiskers but came back empty. Backpedaling around jagged rocks, I continued to tease.

“Do you want us to have to go into town?”, the contents of my hands clanked. “Chhay had to beg a blacksmith. She hardly got out without him trying to tear the rags off her.” The crowd laughed and jeered. Chhay spoke up.

“I could barely keep his dirty hands off for that piece he plucked from the floor!”

“GO FOR HER LEGS!”, someone called out. I was unsure who they were advising before I was slammed to the ground. I tried to catch my breath as she straddled me. She fought to unroll my fists as I rolled around to evade her. I was laughing too hard to stop her for long and revealed both hands to be empty. For a long moment the crowd was quiet. I pulled the sliver from the top of her pile of black curls.

She groaned, “How do you do that?”

“I thought you liked when I juggled.” The pout she’d kept on broke and melted into a laugh. “It’s so good to see you, Virid.”

“You should unsheathe,” she snatched the steel, “you look a sight.” She said and offered a hand. Suction releasing turned to stinging when my pelt slipped from my eyes. It’s flopped on the ground and I stretched.

“Where’s yours?”

“In the cave, in a crevasse”, she replied, brushing her knees. Smart girl.

“Alright then.”, my pelt shrunk to be no bigger than my hand and darker than its usual spotted silver. “LET US BEGIN!”

Eyre pulled what looked like a branch from the ground, revealing it to be strung with oyster shells and reeds. Her companions joined her and counted down, getting the crowd roaring.

“VEEEEEEEEER!”, we shouted as the band began their jig. Girls danced around the fire, circling each other. With my pelt hidden, I joined them. Kyl sang and we danced and screamed and fought and kissed until the beginnings of dawn appeared on the edge of the water. By then, more than half of us had departed and the rest of us were preparing to. I planned to leave last to clean the alcove. The rocks had been scattered when I noticed that Virid had stopped helping. She had climbed up a-ways to peek over the edge of the hill. Angry, but not stupid enough to shout, I climbed to her to see what took her attention. A group of human men had ventured through the wood and searched for something. I could tell from there was that they were carrying something on their sides.

“Are they really that bad?”, her small voice startled me.

“I’m not sure, I never met one.”, I answered honestly. “Let’s get a closer look.” She looked so surprised and afraid. “Just a look,” I assured “and then we’re back to sea for the next 28 seasons. Come on.” Her wrist was sweaty despite the cold, but didn’t resist my pull.

“Kyl,” I whispered. She shot up from helping the band “finish cleaning, we’ll be back soon.” With her nod, we disappeared into a cave hole and exited frighteningly close to the men. I peeked at them while Virid shook. They walked so quietly; with the sound of the waves, I wouldn’t have known they were there if she hadn’t pointed them out.

“That one there is handsome,” I teased, pointing to a hunched man, crawling up hill. She looked, cautiously. “He’s fat.” She retorted.

“I don’t know. There’s something about the red hair”, she stared on, unimpressed. “He must’ve gotten that way from too much seal-girl.”

“Really?”

“I heard they love to grab us and take our fur.”

“Stop!” she pled.

“They’d just love to take a pretty girl like you, boil your pelt and drink the stew”, I loomed as she shrunk away “and they keep you in a dark hole and pull you out to clean their homes.”

Torturing her was my favorite hobby, but her fear was directed behind me. Over the hill the men climbed, seals dove into the brine to flee. One was not so lucky. The once hunched man loomed over him and thwarted his escape, crushing his tail with his bootheel. In seconds, the man’s club was from his belt, above his head and crushing the still barking seal’s skull.

Virid’s squeak was barely audible. I quickly clapped my hand over her tearstained face, but the killer turned toward us.

“We have to go.” I pulled her to the cave.

I wiped a tear and pushed her pelt into her hands. “Get ready.”

“Who was that?”, she asked.

“A seal.”, I pulled her to the water. “Get ready. We’re leaving.” My pelt unfurled.

“Mama, what just happened?” I turned to see her still unsheathed. I stretched her pelt over her head and started. “Yes,” one slender arm disappeared inside, “they are that bad.” She splashed in and I looked back at the little cove I’d been coming to for decades. I walked to the crevasse, uncovered the steel and threw it into the loch.

We’d made a point to not return. “There were other beaches on the land”, we rationalized “the men can’t take them all.” But there were worse things to fear. I found out while sunning on the other side of the peninsula. The bulls were fighting and I had my hopes on one with a prominent spot on his chest. While he bled, I listened to a directionless conversation that turned frantic. Something awful, white and black had come from the water. Its gaping maw snapped at the fleeing bob when I caught its eye.

It whispered “I will eat you.”

My flippers waddled inland until it submerged. My racing heart calmed while we stared in disbelief. But, SPLASH! It breached again, its breath smelled of blood and its teeth were gnashed and broken. I dove into the water, hoping to out run it, but it gained on me. I dove deeper, veering around rocks. Its jaws snapped, narrowly missing me. “Goddess, no! Not like this!” I cried. Ahead, the water stopped. Praying for shore, I propelled myself onto the rocky ground. I hobbled from the waterline, exhausted and out of danger’s grasp.

Then I was being dragged toward the tree line. I turned to see him before he stomped my tail. I screamed until my voice tore. His hands matched his hair; red from a day’s work.

“Wait”, I croaked, but his club was already above him. It swung down and cut through the air. THWACK, his wrist overfilled my hand. “Wait…” I whispered. I laid there, unsure of what to do. Silence overtook the gulls and waves. All he did was stare, green-eyed and mute while I trembled beneath him. “What’ve I done?” I released him and pulled over my snout. That’s all I can recall before I woke. Sometimes I remember feelings; anger, fear, sadness. Sometimes it’s clearer; the pain of the club, fighting, the agony of my pelt tearing from me.

The morning I awoke, I was clothed and exhausted. Gravely voices argued below me and I followed the log steps down to find my captor with company.

“You’ve made good money with us. Why leave?” said a shorter balding man. His wrinkled skin, showed years of work in the sun. I grabbed a nearby bottle and swung it. Both reacted, ducking their heads back before it could hit either. It shattered on the far wall, leaving dripping white residue.

“Where is it?”, the redhead’s hands pleaded with me to be calm.

“Where IS IT? Ugly beast!” I grabbed another bottle and managed to clip his forehead. I grabbed another, ready to hurl it at the tiny one when he turned. Quicker than lightening, he was around me, tucking my arms to my sides. I thrashed, screaming.

“FREE ME! KILLER! THIEF!” “Does this answer your inquiry, Colin?” his voice was level through the stress.

“Aye, it does”, he stopped to ponder “I didn’t know you were married.”

“Goodbye, Colin” he groaned after a blow to his shin.

I went on screaming, until the little man left, until the sun set and rose, until my hot tears ran dry. He held me through it all. It went on for weeks. Fighting, restraining, passing out from exhaustion, waking up to start again. Soon, I woke with the house empty. I jump from the bed, sprinted to the door, and was confronted with whiteness. I stepped into the mounds and sunk knee deep into pain. Spines shot through my toes and numbness followed. By the time I arrived, the water had frozen over.

Snow scattered across stone on my return.

“My God, woman!” he wrapped me in blankets “you’ll catch your death.”

His red, puffy eyes traced my fingers. “You’re frozen stiff.”

The hearth’s warmth ached. “Please, eat.” My stomach growled as he offered me a bowl of something steaming. “It’s stew.” I recoiled and retched dry. He retreated, returning and placing a roll in my palm. There was no screaming that night.

The next morning, he reached out to me; he left with a red hand.

“I’ll be back later,” he announced. The far wall was stained with glass still littering the floor. I grabbed the shards and the stinking congealed mess and threw it into the snow. That’s how it started. There was always a mess and I learned how to clean it. In the mornings, I lit tiny fires and the sea roared just out of sight. For months, I pulled, checked and looked under and in everything for my pelt. After I’d exhausted the places it could be, I deduced he’d taken it far away and wept at the thought of him destroying it.

In the evenings, he arrived pitch-filthy with full hands. Sometimes there were flowers, other times dresses. Always there were questions.

“How’d your day go, love?” a hairy hand reached out to be slapped away.

“I cleaned your boots, they were filthy. Along with the linens.”

There was a pause as he uncovered whatever he’d brought.

“They’re boots, for your feet when you’re about.”

“I’ll start dinner.” Where would I go out to? One day the snow melted and he stopped returning ash covered. “I found something today”, his voice boomed up to me.

“Here”, he pulled a thick cracked chunk from his pocket. I snatched and examined it. “It washed up on the shore. It was still alive when we got to it.”

“How’d you get this, then?”

“Still alive, but not far off. I spent my shifts cutting the fat and wiggling this from its mouth.”

“What happened to seal killing?” I looked away from the whale’s tooth and he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

“I’d been burning coal for months, dear.” The ring he carved from it was long. It clinked against water glasses and snagged on clothing. I never removed it.

Child birth was harder here than there. Searing pain cut through me as another contraction ripped. There, all this pushing would have been done hours ago. I took time to catch my breath, the bed soaked in sweat and blood. The pain would kill me, I thought, but it was happy to torture me. There, the discomfort hadn’t outweighed the fear of birthing my first pup. I had no idea what was happening. A bit of blood and she was here, crying for me to clean her. It was so simple there.

Three small stone piles lay beneath a young willow tree, yellowed grass surrounding them.

“They shouldn’t be here,” my tears were hot. “They should’ve been taken by the sea.” He knelt, fashioning a garland from twigs.

“You see!”, I pointed out the yellowing halos “They’re still taking from somewhere they didn’t want part of!” the pain of grief and birth brought me to my knees.

He tried to help me, but I refused. His puffy eyes filled with anger, “THEY WERE MY CHILDREN TOO, WOMAN!” He rose. “HOW? How could you ask this of me? To throw my babes to water like they were nothing?”

“The water isn’t a place for nothing, man,” I hoisted myself up on the tree. “There was plenty enough for you to steal. Why not give something back?”

“NO! I did NOT steal you! You could’ve left whenever you liked.”

“WHERE WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO GO?” Silence. Our tears watered our children before he led me home. Quietness followed us as he pulled a bottle from the cupboard and rested me in bed. Not a word when he pulled off my boots and redressed my wounds and we wiped each other’s cheeks. He glugged and I tried not to vomit sipping. We sat, staring out at our babes, until the night blinded us and we wept.

“I should have been with you,” he sobbed.

“They weren’t my first. One of my daughters was with me when I first saw you.”

“Near the cove?”

“We weren’t as sneaky as I had hoped.”, I laughed.

“It’s been decades now. I’d began my first job when the other boys pulled me along to the cove. “We’re going to see seal-ladies” one boy, barely off his guiding strings said while strapping wool to his boots. We trekked uphill toward the loch. Seals flopping onto shore was not a sight worth staying up past midnight for and I said as much. The leader was a handsome lad, and smartarsed as they come. “Then go home, that red mop is so bright it’ll scare them off.” I was about to throttle him until my mind shattered. The seals’ skin warped and birthed women. Dozens danced and sang until the sun rose. The boys stayed there until most departed, but I was transfixed. There was still one staying behind with hair black as the bottom of the sea. I swear I didn’t say a word, but you looked up. I thought I was done in, but you turned, redressed and disappeared. I didn’t think beauty like that existed.”

I remembered that night. It was my first night as leader and my nerves disguised stupidity with paranoia.

“I went there for months, trying to see you again.”, he continued. “I’d never seen something so free. It wasn’t much to think you’d be in Tenby by then.”

“Oh, no. I’ve been here most of my life. Sometime was spent near the mainland, but that was long ago.”

“How long.”

“60 years?” it was hard to remember.

“My god!”, he shot up, “60 years? How old are you?”

“Maybe…115?”

His laugh shook the bed “Lucky you, I’m halfway there and I look like an old boot. And there you are, as fresh as a daisy.”

“You should’ve seen my younger years. The places I’ve seen, the parties we had.” I regaled him with tales of sharks and monsters. Soon, the booze took him and I exited quietly. The sliver of moon was barely enough to see, but I made it to the water. Embers of some distant fire danced to the sky. Salt air sprayed and cold brine stung my toes. Thoughts flowed in. Ideas of my old life and the healthy babies I could have had instead of those with webbed feet and watery lungs. Thoughts of my family and freedom pulled me deeper in. Weeping turned to anguished screams as I mourned what once was and returned home.

“You forgot! You keep forgetting!”

“Leave it alone. You’re worrying for nothing.”, he waved me away and continued breakfast.

I slammed a plate on the table. “Then where’s your hat? This is the third time.”

His arms shot up to avoid the splatter. “I’m not forgetting, dear. I’m just not remembering. We can’t all stay…” he gestured at me with his fork.

“Uh-huh. But we can all visit Dr. Orveil”, I wrapped my curls about a sliver of orca-ivory and donned a bonnet.

“Where are you going?”, he asked with beans decorating his beard.

“To church. We’re praying for our husbands so that they might listen to their wives” I retorted and was off to town. It seemed like yesterday he was up before dawn and off for weeks. Now it’s me waking, feeding and making sure he gets out the door.

Sister Liana brought her baby to be baptized and I sat in the backrow. By that time, the Father had raised Clark, already wet with holy water up to God. Sister Margret, a plump woman with a round face decorated with silvering ringlets joined me on the peer. “You’re almost as late as me, Marg.”

“Not nearly. I got here when they started”, she whispered “what kept you?”

“Husband troubles. Things keep falling from his mind”, she nodded. “Do they all get forgetful Marg? How’s Henry?”

“Henry’s just the same. I can’t recall a time he’s listened though”, her chuckle drew the eyes of the congregation.

“Shh,” I hushed, laughing “you’re starting trouble!” I slapped her leg and the Father stopped to see the commotion. Outside, our ruckus continued.

“Did you see the look on Jessup’s face?” I doubled over.

““Disgraceful!””, Marg added sending me to the ground.

While calculating numbers and separating from our megger earning what to give to the collector, a sun-spotted finger pushed a roll into my palm. What time had stolen from him was criminal. He hunched with no hope of rising with grey hair parted to hide his baldness.

“Oh, love, what’re you doing up?” I rose to help him to sit.

“I’m old dear, not dead.” He spoke with fewer teeth.

“That’s what you said this morning. Dinner will start as soon as I get this squared away.” A bang at the door distracted me. “Who is it?” I called hoping not for collectors.

“It’s me,” a cracking voice called back. I swung open the door to see young man Clark, dressed sharply and carrying a bundle underarm.

“Oh, Clark. This is no time for a proposal,” I gasped.

“Ha auntie, I only came to give you back your bowl.” Our circle had one by one followed the same road as my husband. Now their children watched them, cooked their food and ran their forgotten borrowed bowls back.

“Thank you, love,” I fingered the bowl’s design. “Come in for tea?”

“No thank you, ma’am,”

“You should go before she tires of waiting then.” I smiled at his blushing face before he ran off.

Time hadn’t left me alone either. Streaks of grey invaded my tresses and wrinkles began appearing here and there. Though slowly, time was collecting.

“There you go, dear.” A sausage slice went in his mouth and slid out for me to spoon back in. This was our routine, in the mornings, evenings and nights before I walked him upstairs to bed. One night, while I pulled his boots off, he strayed.

“I love you.” He shakily brushed a hair behind my ear. Something that I had thought had died shook angerly inside me.

“What?” I asked.

“I love you,” he continued. “And I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“Everything.” He pulled my skirt close with strength I thought lost. “I could’ve asked you and heard your “no”. Instead, I stole you, bound you.” His eyes sparkled with tears. “And I am so sorry.” My anger melted in our embrace. His weak hitching sobs turned to full wails when I spoke. Its claws dragged in my throat, resistant to be spoken.

“It’s okay, Finn. I love you, too.”

After Marg’s funeral, I pondered. Having seen her only two weeks ago had snapped something inside. When I dropped by, she’d rose from her rocker with such burden.

She threw her arms around me and squeezed, her joints popping. “Come, drink with me.”

I wished I’d said yes and stayed a little longer. Instead, I pecked her soft wrinkled cheek. “Maybe when we’re both widows.”

She looked shocked, and I raised an eyebrow. Then were giggling, red faced and silly. Our sides still aching as I led her to her bedroom. The next morning, her son found her quiet and pale.

Finn trailed beside me with his cane, keeping pace with my stumbling. Father Jessup’s replacement stood in the doorway, blessing the few attendees.

“Thank you for coming.”

“She was a good woman. It was a good service.”

“She was a good friend, my last, and she’s gone.” I ended the conversation and we arrived. I unbound myself from bonnet and boots, reveling the cold stone beneath me.

“Sit down, sweetheart. I’ll get luncheon started and we can turn in early.” When I didn’t hear the familiar chair squeak, I turned to see him crumpling. “Oh, God!” I rushed to his side.

“It’s nothing, just a scratch.” He was right. The tumble grazed his leg but still, it bled.

“Come on,” I took his weight on my shoulder. “This is why I tell you to sit.” I placed him in a kitchen chair and looked for bandages.

“Would you look at that?” he fingered the new hole in his trousers. “Damaged.”

“I'll mend them in the morning. Let me take care of you first.” Not under the stove or the cupboard.

“Not the pants, girl, me!” he laughed.

“What are you on about?”

“I’m damaged goods! I hope you have proof of sale because you’ll have to return me.” The high cabinet was jammed.

“Oh yeah?” I grunted and pulled again.

“My teeth, my eyes, my memory. If I was a horse, you’d return me to the farm and demand a refund.” He said laughing hard.

“Would I, really?” But then he was quiet. “What’s wrong?!”

“Dear, please come down.” I pulled again and the cabinet’s contents went sprawling. Copper pieces scattered across the room, with linen bandages and old keys. My hands disregarded them and grabbed a bit of fur before it hit the floor.

“PLEASE, WAIT!” Finn shouted in the distance, stood and fell as his knees buckled. I started to help, but stopped. The smell of salt water and fresh fish wafted up. I raked my hands through my sweaty hair, and snagged my hairpin.

“Oh, Goddess.” My pelt was so close, and I knew I’d never wanted anything more. Not food, drink nor children. My hairpin clattered and my hair enveloped me.

“Ila…”