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Once More

When the sea calls her name, Orla remembers

By Gillian PeggPublished 2 years ago Updated 2 years ago 12 min read
1
Once More
Photo by Marius Christensen on Unsplash

Orla had never been late for her morning walk. Not in 52 years.

She shut the whitewashed cottage door with a muffled thud. Down the front garden path she went, the scent of late roses brushing against her. The early morning light was still grey, the bleak light before the bright burst of sunrise.

Of course, back in the old days, she hadn’t left the house quite so early. But she was old and slow, now, and the cane only seemed to make her slower.

On past the waving Mrs. O’Reilly at the post office, and down the narrow path between number 5 and 6 on Cork road. Orla slowly climbed the old track that sloped upward, toward the cliffs, her breath wheezing like an old steam engine. She gripped her cane, thrusting it against the gravel path with more force than entirely necessary. How irritating, when your body began to crumble and weaken. It was so much worse, she thought, to be betrayed by yourself, even if you couldn't help it.

Damned knees.

Finally, she came out onto the crest of the hill. Even after looking at this view all her life, it still made her feel as if her soul longed to reach out toward it. Dark blue sea met with grey sky. Rocks below, waves forever crashing against the jagged edges. Endless, open shades of blue and green.

The old woman made her way to a bench. She sat, as she always did, and glanced down at her watch. Right on time. The sky began to turn orange and pink with the first whisps of sunrise. She looked out at the sea, waiting, as she always did. She had mostly stopped hoping some years ago, tucking away the flurry of her heart that told her to hold on. Some small part of her still hoped, for she had made her way to the Lookout everyday for all these years.

Her mind drifted to the quilters meeting that afternoon, and whether she had potatoes in the cupboard or if she’d have to stop by the grocers. The morning light was reaching it's golden hues. The sunrise was pretty much over. With her mind already on other things, Orla stood, stretching her old bones.

And then she heard it.

The sound made Orla still, complete disbelief and awe and a little bit of fear going through her as if hit by the spray of the sea. After all this time...

There was someone calling her name. Calling her name like it was the melody in a song, like a sea breeze caught on a branch.

Someone from down below.

Someone from long ago.

***

52 years earlier…

Orla was tired of the sunshine.

All she wanted to do was take a nap, but the bright light pierced past her sunglasses and through her eyelids, making her see red.

She held a hand up to cover her face, but got tired of holding it there after a moment.

With a huff of irritation, Orla sat up.

The shoreline stretched out before her, blue as the eyes of a certain boy...

No.

She would not think about Fionn O'Reilly and his damned perfect blue eyes. Not when he had been kissing Ciara Kelly while promising Orla the world. She took in a deep breath, let it sit in her lungs a moment, and then blew it out.

Well, if she couldn’t take a nap to pass the time, she may as well do something else. Orla collected up her beach towel and tossed it into her bag, along with the abandoned novel she’d gotten bored of.

She pushed her feet into her sandals and walked briskly off toward the east end of the beach, where the cliffs met the sand. There had been rumours in the village for years and years that there were tunnels beneath the cliffs, said to have been used by rum runners and pirates, or sometimes said to be full of selkies and mermaids. Orla had always wanted to find out if the local stories about caves and tunnels were true, but her mother had made her promise not to go anywhere near them, and Fionn had been a scaredy cat just like all of Orla’s school chums.

He really was a bit of an idiot, she supposed. A rather lame one, at that. Still, she wished she could push aside the feeling of his hand on her thigh while he drove them to the outdoor theater, or the delicious weight of his eyes upon her, taking in every detail as if she was a fleeting sunset.

She paused before the arching cliffs, spotting the small opening off the beach, in the shallow water.

She really shouldn't go in.

But why shouldn’t I? She thought. I’m not frightened.

She abandoned her book bag on the sand, and trudged into the shallow water, toward the knife-like opening in the rock.

Orla had to turn to the side and shuffle to get through the bottle-neck. She focused on her breathing, and not on the tightness she felt around her back and chest. Her feet sloshed in the water, and a little bit of panic had begun to grip onto her throat like a strong hand. Her skin scraped against the rough rock, and she but back a yelp as the rock bit into her skin.

But then, Orla was through, into the rocky chamber on the other side. It lead off into a few different passages, but thankfully, all of these were wider than the entrance. The water seemed to get deeper toward the back of the cave, though. A few of the passages would have to be swum though.

There, in one of the passages at the back. There was a soft, slightly green light. A glow like a candle trapped within a bottle. That rich, glass green waved and shadowed along the cave walls. And then she heard the singing, a melody that sounded like home, that seemed to be calling her onward.

Orla saw that she had, without thinking about it, walked in closer to the green lit passage, and was now standing almost chest deep in water.

She couldn’t help herself. She stepped closer, and then began to swim, ever closer to the light.

The cave went on and on, but Orla hardly noticed. It was as if she was enchanted. Nothing could dissuade her from continuing on, following the green glow and the beautiful melodic tune. Even when the water began to grow colder and colder, and get deeper. The water was black beneath her fingers, shadowy save for the green light.

It was as if the glow itself was moving, leading Orla somewhere. A dim part of the girl’s brain wondered if she was being taken by the fairies to some underwater kingdom, but she did not turn back. She could not.

Finally, the cave came to a curve, and then…

The light had steadily been getting brighter, and now, it was blinding.There was someone calling her name. Calling her name like it was the melody in a song, like a sea breeze caught on a branch.The sound crested high in one final, beautiful note, and then the cave became silent. Orla threw an arm up, waiting for her eyes to adjust.

The green light dimmed to a glow. She lowered her arm.

There was a sort of rock dais in the middle of the small cave room. And upon it, sat a creature that could only be a merman. The source of the light was his long tail, the glistening green scales and fins shimmering.

Orla paused, treading water, trying to make sense of what she saw.

Her eyes ran up his otherworldly body. Scales and wet skin, shoulder length hair like dark sea weed, eyes like glowing lamps. But there was something within the depths of those eyes. Like light underwater, like the warmth of the sun from beneath the waves.

He turned his head to the side slightly, watching her with an expression of awe.

Orla swallowed, and nodded her head in greeting.

"By the tides." The being murmured, as if to himself. "You are a very fair creature. Very fair, indeed."

Orla blinked a few times, trying to get her mouth to catch up with her wildly running thoughts.

"You're a merman." She whispered, her hushed tone nonetheless echoing through the cave.

He nodded, and Orla found herself moving closer.

"I do not mean to frighten you." He said, his hands raised slightly, palms toward her.

"You aren't." Orla said, surprised that she meant it.

He smiled warmly, his eyes studying her. Orla was close enough now to see the colour of those eyes. Dark green, and full of shimmering golden lights.

"I'm Orla." She whispered. He mouthed her name slowly, as if savoring the taste of it on his tongue.

"I'm Brin." He nodded his head to her, flicking his tail. It shimmered with the movement.

"Say, have you ever swam with a merman before, Orla?"

Orla grinned, her own eyes alight, and shook her head.

Brin slipped off the rock and into the waters, swimming up to be beside Orla.

"I can give you a bit of my magic, if you'll have it. It'll let you swim under the surface, let you breath as I do."

Orla's eyes widened. "I would like that."

"Only…" Brin angled a bit closer, his eyes gently upon hers, "Only, I'll have to kiss your lips, to give you the magic."

Orla swallowed, blinking up at him. Her heart was like a caged bird in her chest.

"I would like that… very much." She was pleased with her boldness, if a little surprised at herself. Brin's face warmed, his eyes searching hers, his lips curling up at the corners.

"As would I." He whispered, and placed his palm against her cheek, slowly and gently raising her face to his. He leaned closer, until their lips were only a whisper apart. "Very much, Orla." His lips touched hers, and it was like being pulled by a rip tide, like plunging into sunwarmed waters.

Orla buckled under his kiss, and Brin gently took her in his arms, sinking beneath the surface.

Their lips parted under the waters, and Orla felt bubbles out her mouth. She was breathing underwater, her eyes adjusting to the shifting light and bubbles.

He held out a hand, his smile deepening as she took it.

Brin brought her back through the cave mouth, and into the depths of the sea.

He showed her the reefs, the hundreds of creatures scuttling along the sea floor. He showed her the whales, the tiniest prawns and the largest fishes. They held hands and giggled and shared their stories. When sunset was lowering toward the water surface, Brin brought Orla back to the cave mouth.

"You've changed me." He said, water dripping from his hair. "I've never met another like you."

Orla watched him, her lips turned toward the orange sky. "I've never met anyone like you, either. I wouldn't care if I ever met anyone ever again, to be honest. You're the one I…" She swallowed and trailed off, cheeks going pink. But Brin just leaned toward her, taking her hand in both of his, his eyes light. "I know," he whispered, "I feel the same way about you."

Orla felt a warm glow within her at those words.

"I could… if you'll have me, I could go to my father. He had powers, you see. Powers that could let me walk on land with you, as you swim in the sea with me."

Orla's heart threatened to beat out of her chest. "You would do that for me?"

"It will take some time. Time… moves differently, far beneath the waves, in the place I come from. It might take quiet a lot of time."

Orla gripped Brin's hands.

"But you'll return to me?"

Brin kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose, then her lips.

"I would do anything to come back to you."

"Then I'll wait. However long it takes." Orla said. Ha! What was she saying? She had never had any patience at all.

But she would try, she would give everything she could to try. The pull, the otherworldy thread pushed her toward him even now.

Brin watched her, his eyes reflecting the orange sunset behind her.

"The sun doesn't set for us today, Orla. I'll go to my father, and he'll grant me the ability to live on land with you." He tightened his hold on her hands. "Meet me here at sunrise. One day, I'll return for you."

Orla's hands shook in his, but she nodded fiercely.

52 years later...

Orla was breathless. And it had nothing to do with ho quickly she was picking her way along the steep seaside path to the beach. She was moving faster than she had in decades, but it was as if she had no choice, her body propelled her onward, onward, onward toward the melodic singing at the cave mouth below.

Orla kicked off her sensible shoes, moving faster. Suddenly, if was as if she didn't need her cane any more. She tossed it aside, picking up speed. There was no more aches and pains in her legs, her hips, her knees. It was as if… it was as if..

Orla saw him then, standing there with his feet in the shallow water, bright swim trunks and white t-shirt. But it was his lips she really saw, for it had been her companion these many years, smiling at her in every dream and flight of fantasy. His smile was open and true and real, and one look at it had Orla running into his outstretched arms, her body young and sprite and agile once more.

He lifted her up, and as he swung her high, water splashing at his feet, Orla laughed and smiled and laughed again.

Her merman had returned for her once more.

Short Story
1

About the Creator

Gillian Pegg

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