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The Maiden Selkie

A Blushing Sky

By LilyRosePublished about a year ago 6 min read
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The Maiden Selkie
Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash

Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. The people's of the land swept their shutters closed and turned away as their delicate curtains fluttered and rippled under the skies pleasure. It was the time for lovers.

On the edge of the village, where the old fishing cottages crumbled into dust a young women averted her eyes, dropping her gaze instead to the chalk cliff path that led her down to the coves shoreline. It was the first time she had made the journey in the fading light, but she picked her way carefully across the familar rocky terrain. The cool breeze whipped up tendrils of her hair and she tugged at the dark woolen cloak she wore, wrapping it tightly around her shoulders. She would be in the arms of her own lover soon enough, but the thought of them together, shrouded under the violet mist that draped itself over the selkie's waters brought her little comfort tonight.

For what would fate have in store then?

It was the first night that the waters had called to her and as the sun had waned, an unbearable thirst had risen up her throat from the core of her very being. Heart pounding, she had slipped away from the quiet cottage and desperately hauled up the well water, drinking great gulps straight from the bucket. Yet as the water had hit the back of her throat she had only coughed and spluttered. Sinking to her knee’s in despair she rested her head against the cold stone, and felt a tear trickle down her cheek and settle on her lip. When she had opened her mouth to let out a cry, she had tasted the salt and gasped as the skin on her throat started crack and blister.

There was only one explanation of course.

Her selkie lover had got her with child and now the sea was calling her to him, claiming her for it's own. If she returned home to the cozy cottage where her family slept soundly she would be dead by morning. But if she submitted herself to the waves - what of her then? What actually lay beneath the violet mist and the violent swells of the shoreline?

She had heard the whispers. The tales told to scare the young girls away from the men that frequented the shores only by day. She clutched at her pendant and ripped it from her neck, cursing the market seller and his foolish charms.

A loose stone underfoot caused her to slip on the chalk path and she let out a yelp as she scrabbled to cling on to the rock. Her cry was rasping and the burn in her throat threatened to overcome her. She pulled herself to her feet feeling weak and dizzy. But what did it even matter if she were to slip now? Would falling into the waves from this height, be any worse a fate than the slow drowning that was surely awaiting her on the beach. For surely, she would drown in their waters. She could not swim after all. A maiden selkie had never been seen on shore and and no one knew what happened to the women who were called by the sea to their selkies. Only the mad fisherman lost at sea claimed to have seen the merwomen and the thought alone made the woman shiver, as she recalled their strange tales. Surely, these could not be women like her.

She pictured his dark handsome features. Would he be waiting for her in the waves? How had the water changed him, and would she still know his face? He who had made her laugh and sung her songs as she mended the nets and hunted for cockles in the shallows. Would she still blush when he called her name, the way sky did when the clouds spun and swirled. He hadn't lied to her. She had known what he was even in the early days but it had passed between them unspoken. For who else spent their days wandering the shoreline, singing stories of when the sky had loved the sea instead? What other man smelt of salt and could catch the shrimp in his bare hands? What man could turn his face to the storm spray and smile as it slapped him. It had been she who'd gone back looking for him. She who had taken his hand and held it to her lips. She who had kissed him.

The path turned to grit, then sand, and she wove her way through the heady violet mist, following the gentle slope to the shore. Water lapped at her feet, soaking through the leather boots but the cold sensation she was expecting did not come. The water felt warm against her skin though the night was surely cold. Still she kept her eyes lowered, not daring to search for his face on the shimmering horizon.

He had been quiet today. Stroking her face as if he was trying to commit it to memory. He had lingered on the beach as she turned to leave, and he had watched her go, his eyes not leaving her until she had reached the top of the cliffs. So he had known then, she decided. He had known that they had made something more than just love. Was he pleased she wondered, or had he watched her go in sadness for her fate?

Her cloak and skirt were sodden and heavy over her weakened frame so she reached up to loosen the cloaks clasp. Next she unbuttoned the skirt and let it fall around her. Stepping past them she allowed the rushing swells tugging at her ankles to pull her in. The waves were warm and inviting and she found herself crouching down to scoop palmfuls of water over her face and neck. The blistered skin on her neck seared for a moment and she clutched her throat gasping, rasping not for air this time, but for the water itself.

It was then that she saw them. Tucked into the mist, their heads bobbing above the waves. The smiling faces of men and women glimmering in the violet light. Waiting for her. She waded further in, feeling the current lift her as the sea tugged and changed her beneath the surface. The weakness she had felt before like ivy clinging to a tree was torn away and her limbs felt strong and supple again. She dared not look away for a moment lest she break the spell. Instead she searched their faces for him.

And then he was there. He rose out the water in front of her, hands outstretched, eyes dark and full of concern. A seal coat clung to his shoulders and her heart leapt as she moved towards his arms, her new limbs rippling beneath the waves. He would not let her drown. He had waited for her, knowing she would come. She let out a sigh of relief, though his own face was pained as he shrugged the skin onto her shoulders. His eyes flickered past her and she twisted in his arms, following his gaze back towards the sandy shore where a sodden cloak laid heaped on the bank under a blushing sky.

Fantasy
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About the Creator

LilyRose

Corporate cog by day, poet by night. Writing is my happy place. Comments, follows and critiques are always welcome!

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