Lull of the Sea
I.
Alaina stalked a small, homely fishing boat. Her stomach growled as the boat’s net ensnared yet another school of fish, their familiar gaping mouths poking through the net’s holes before descending onto the ship’s deck, each small body a tiny wet splat against the wood.
Alaina’s mind clouded with a vision of her starving pod. Her darling daughter, Fiona, was in particularly dire need, almost skeletal. Her ribs stuck out, and her eyes sank in. It was a miracle that such a frail thing had managed to hang on to the thin strings of life this long.
Undetected, the young selkie slipped onto the wooden ring netter’s deck. Water dribbled off her coat, leaving a trail of dampened oak with each galumph. The quivering fish were so close. Their aroma reached Alaina’s nose with every breath, only strengthening her resolve. The fisherman surely isn’t going to notice a few missing, she thought. There wasn’t a human soul to be found on deck; likely the one man manning it was somewhere in the hull below, unaware of a selkie on board.
In one last galumph, some of her seal pelt peeled away, revealing the top half of a young woman. Her pale skin was exposed to the sun; her long, wavy locks draped onto the deck, curtaining her face. With a quick hand, she snatched up a fish. Its scaly body floundered in the webs between her fingers as her long, claw-like fingernails pierced into the soft underbelly of her catch. She would require hands, not flippers, for this task. After she retrieved the food from its net, she would transport it home to her pup in her mouth. Crimson red poured from the fresh wound. The metallic scent was tantalizing, causing a primal urge to consume her.
A sigh escaped Alaina’s throat as her teeth met flesh, her hunger finally satisfied. The salty meat lured her into taking several more chunks from the fish’s body. She did not account for this sudden urge, but she couldn’t help herself; she had been starving for so long. Liquid life dribbled over her hands, pooling onto the floor. Flesh tore from the crunching bone, and a wet ripping filled the air, followed by ravenous chewing.
Her hunger took over her senses. Somewhere in the background, there were loud thuds. However, to Alaina, they might have been the sound of waves hitting the hull or random seagulls lazily landing on the deck.
The fisherman, Cormac, had dealt with sea creatures stealing his fish before, and he wasn’t about to let it happen again. With a slam of the cabin door, he stormed out, the white feathers of seagulls as they stole from his last catch fresh in his mind. He had sun-scorched skin to match his blazing anger. But that fire was snuffed out the moment he discovered the selkie among his daily catch.
In stunned silence, he soaked in the scene. Fish blood and innards smeared her thin fingers. Warm, sticky fluid dribbled down her chin and chest. Cormac stepped back as the selkie opened her mouth to hiss, revealing reddened, sharp teeth.
Despite all this, Cormac didn’t fail to pick up on the beauty hidden under the gore. Her fierce brown eyes and thick black hair captured his attention. The other fishermen often spoke of the legendary selkies, seals who stripped off their pelts to become beautiful women from the sea. Once a man got his hands on a pelt, he’d be set for life with the perfect wife. The trick, he recalled, was to keep the pelt firmly out of reach.
He wrinkled his nose as her tongue licked viscera off her upper lip.
“You’re a wild thing,” he croaked.
She merely snarled.
“Don’t you speak, woman?”
“I have nothing to say to a thief,” she retorted. Her voice was silvery and smooth despite the insult.
“Thief? Now who are you calling a thief?” His anger returned.
“You!” she hissed. “You and your kind steal fish from my home! My people have had to starve!”
“Know your place, girl!” Cormac spat, watching as her pelt unpeeled further, as more of her tender skin bared itself to the salty breeze. “Like I’m going to stand here and let some savage talk to me like that.”
In a flash, he found her pelt held tight in his grip. The grey fur poked out between his fingers. He gazed at it in wonder, as if he held an object of destiny in his grasp.
“That is mine!” the selkie yanked at her black-speckled pelt. She tried to claw at him, but her fingers were no longer webbed, and her fingernails had turned to mere stubs.
The fisherman clasped his lightly scratched cheek with one hand and pulled the pelt away from her with the other. He felt as though he had just been slapped by a fish.
“Give it back!”
“You should not be wearing this rag,” he said, holding the pelt as if it were a dirty dish towel. “It makes you uncivilized … un-womanly.” He placed the hide over his shoulders, enjoying its warmth. “But, my darling, I can fix that.”
II.
It took about a day for the slimy bastard to throw together a wedding. Alaina found herself standing at the altar of a tiny white church that sat atop a hill. The building was out of the way, unassuming, far from the eyes of the village. The eight wooden pews were empty. It was just the unhappy couple and the priest Cormac paid off with the few gold coins in his pocket.
The priest was gaunt, one bad decision from the grave. His joints creaked; his bulky brown robes sagged over his thin frame, and his frail hands gripped the Bible tightly, as though he wouldn’t be able to hold it up for much longer. His words were mumbled and inaudible as he read the wedding vows. Cormac had conveyed all of this to her in the chamber where he had confined her. Holy books, clergymen, and vows. Then he had caged her in what he referred to as a dress, worn and white.
This excuse for a priest didn’t seem to care that the bride’s skirt was stained with tears, or that the groom was wearing his usual fishing outfit of forest-green coveralls. A rancid, musky odor wafted off him, and his hair was as slimy as seaweed. Alaina’s beautiful seal fur was draped around his neck as a taunting shawl.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The priest’s words finally reached her ears, and the gold band of a wedding ring appeared on her finger.
Alaina’s stomach dropped; this wasn’t where she belonged. The sea was her true love, not this poor excuse of a man who had stolen her from her home out of impish desire.
But taking her was only the beginning.
Alaina held back her tears; she knew her body and soul no longer belonged to her. A life of subservience—something she regarded as a mere horror tale told by the selkie elders—one that would haunt her forever.
III.
After many moons, Alaina stood before a full-length mirror, unsure of who this woman in the reflection was—so strange, so different from anything Alaina had ever considered pleasing. When Alaina moved, she moved as well. How curious. This woman in the mirror wore the oddest of garments, made of fabrics and furs. Wrapped around herself was an ‘apron dress,’ as Cormac called it. But this attire lacked the soft comfort of her sealskin. How she longed to touch it one more time, that would do.
The woman in the mirror was adorned with pigments, her eyelids ocean blue, her cheeks a light starfish pink, and her lips a coral red. There was also this odd powder that’d been brushed all over the skin. How peculiar. What is the purpose? Alaina wondered as she nodded, stepped, and turned. The woman in the mirror copied the actions. Who is she?
This woman must be someone else. Perhaps Cormac had trapped another in the house, keeping her soul within the mirror for all time. But she certainly looks a lot like me, Alaina mused. So maybe this woman was an illusion made by the mirror, which was perhaps a magic one designed to distort and disturb the reflection of those who stood in front of it. Whatever the case, Alaina concluded that no matter how similar they looked, this reflection was not hers.
“You’re finally starting to look like a woman.” Her poor excuse for a husband’s voice assaulted her ears. Alaina’s lips curled down; again, she felt the weight of her gold wedding band on her ring finger. The shiny, shimmering ring anchored her like a ball and chain, preventing her from returning to the sea she missed so dearly… to the pup she worried so much about.
“Well, you still look like a thief.” She cast her eyes to the fur rug beneath her black ankle boots, the white cotton apron balled up in her clenched fists. “You stole me.”
“Stole you?” Cormac huffed. His thin but strong arms snaked around her from behind, holding her in place. “No, I saved you.”
Alaina’s chest tightened as though her lungs were trying to suffocate her from the inside. She almost wished they would. Then she would be free of this nightmare.
“Now, don’t say such things to me again, sweetheart. You know what happens when you run that mouth.” Cormac’s arms tightened around her.
Alaina’s heart sank at those words. He’d made it very well known to her what happened when she stepped out of line. Under the fabric, her skin was still tender and battered from the last time. The harsh sting on Alaina’s back, followed by a trickling of warm blood, still echoed in her mind. She curled in on herself to look small.
“Yes, dear, I remember,” Alaina choked out. The words were bile on her tongue.
Cormac’s lips bowed into a grin.
“Attagirl,” he said, voice low and raspy. “Now, when I get back, I’d like to see dinner on the table, all right?”
“Yes, dear.” Her lips quivered as her husband disappeared out the door.
IV.
The crisp, salty ocean air wafted through her open window. The waves were calling her, as they had since the day she was taken, but that was now so long ago. The soft lulling of the waters graced her ears, drawing back the faint sensation of its waves against her skin and the soft, welcoming furs of her pod. Worry struck through her heart as she silently prayed that her pup was still alive. Her darling Fiona.
Her fingers traced over the curve of her stomach. A baby bump had formed. Cormac’s many nights of defilement had done their job. Fiona would be a big sister – that is, if she still lived. Alaina knew deep in her heart, though, that her daughter was strong. All she could do now was to make sure her new child would be strong, too. Despite her terrible situation, she resolved to love it. How could she not? At the end of the day, it was still hers.
The wind picked up, drawing the ocean waves to crash against the rocky shore. Longing constricted around her heart like a serpent. Her pod… her home.
Her sealskin…
He had to have hidden it here in this house. The silent energy of it wafted through it like squid ink in the water. It was here. But where?
V.
Whenever Cormac was away, Alaina would look through any possible nook and cranny for her pelt. She would peep in cupboards, trunks, under rugs, and behind furniture. But with her son running around, searching was getting more difficult. He was six years old now. Alaina well knew how time flies when it comes to raising children. She could remember Fiona’s birth like it was yesterday…and little Finley’s too.
That day, Alaina had been elated to learn that he was a boy. Not only did she now have both a boy and a girl, but also a new opportunity. As she held her son in her arms, she made a promise to herself: she wouldn’t let Finley turn into a man like his father, a slimy bastard of a human. When the time came, Finley would be a loving husband and father. Alaina would make sure of that. She would raise him right.
VI.
As soon as Finley could walk and talk, Alaina hogged her child as much as she could—the less exposure to his father, the better. She only allowed Cormac to take Finley when they went on father-son fishing trips. She hid her agenda in a ruse of overprotective mothering. It was a delicate endeavor, but Alaina had long since learned what would set Cormac off.
In Alaina’s eyes, the only beneficial thing Cormac could give their son was knowledge of the fishing trade. Knowing how to hunt and provide for oneself was something Alaina knew Finley should acquire at a young age. She just hoped Cormac’s influence wouldn’t rub off on her son too much.
In a way, she could see a bit of Fiona in Finley. It had to be her genes; Finley was a spitting image of her. She loved his silky dark hair and kind brown eyes, both traits that made him absolutely gorgeous. Whenever her son approached, bearing questions about life and holding lots of love in his eyes, her heart would swell.
As she cut up fish in the kitchen, the crashing of the waves called to her once more, and her chest grew tight. Finley grasped her skirt, curious about what she was doing. Her gaze wandered over her darling boy. Could she really leave him if she got the chance? Alaina told herself that she would have to just wait and see. If Finley turned out to be a kind, selfless, and respectful man, then she would be free to return to the sea.
Now, if only she could find her pelt.
VII.
Finley reached ten years old. Cormac said that Finley could now cast nets and reel in fish all on his own. He was learning more quickly than Alaina thought he would, and she couldn’t be prouder. But he’s going on more and more fishing expeditions with his father. She worried that Finley was going to turn out like his father after all.
But then, one morning, Alaina stood in the kitchen once again, her hands scrubbing tirelessly at the soggy leftover pieces of breakfast in the sink. Little footsteps came up behind her, prompting a small smile from the selkie.
“Come to say goodbye before going with your father?” Alaina asked, still cleaning out the sink.
Unusually, he said nothing. A slight shift befell the room’s atmosphere.
“Finley?”
“I think this belongs to you,” Finley finally replied, his voice lacking its usual cheer.
“What’s wrong, baby?” She finally turned. Then she paused.
Her pelt lay draped across Finley’s arms.
As he bunched it up to his chest, the boy was almost swallowed by the fur. “Where’d you find that?”
“Dad kept it on his boat.” Finley stared down at the sealskin with slight sadness in his eyes. “There was a trunk…he showed me…he told me everything. Something about inheriting it after he’s gone, but I wasn’t fully listening.”
“And you brought it to me?” Alaina’s voice cracked a little as her arms wrapped around him. A great weight lifted off her shoulders. Finley had done the one thing Cormac would never do. But would he, too, pull away when she reached for the fur? “You’re a good boy, Finley.”
“I love you, Mom,” Finley’s little arms returned the hug.
Alaina’s head bowed to her son’s ear.
“I love you too, Honey. Just promise me you’ll always be kind. Can you do that for me?” Her voice was soft and loving as she rubbed Finley’s back
“I promise,” he said through tears.
“You know what will happen, right? Returning this to me?”
Finley went quiet for a moment, his expression a mask that failed at hiding pain.
“I do.”
“Good, now go on. We don’t want to keep your father waiting.” They finally parted, the seal fur now in Alaina’s arms as she watched her son give one last look. After so long of being without it, the pelt felt like a cloud. “Whenever you need me, I’ll always be there for you in the sea.” He dried his eyes and offered a soft smile. Then he turned and left. As she watched him go, she felt a tug in her chest. Could she truly leave him? No, it wouldn’t be forever. Finley would turn to the sea someday; Alaina had a feeling. And when that day comes, she will be waiting for him.
VIII.
Alaina no longer had a reason to stay. Her son had proved himself, and she now had her sealskin. But before leaving, Alaina was going to let Cormac know exactly how she felt.
Briskly, Alaina retrieved a sizable clump of Cormac’s clothes from the bedroom and stuffed them into the cobblestone oven’s flame. The orange and red fire blazed bigger and brighter as it consumed the fabric. Not quite enough, she thought. Once again, she retrieved clothes from the bedroom – this time, a pair of Cormac’s cotton socks. Alaina stuck the toes of the garments into the flame, only pulling out once the cotton ignited. Then she silently crept back to the heap of clothes on the bedroom floor. She tossed the flaming socks into the pile. Within minutes, it had reached the floor and walls. Smoke billowed out of the windows as heat pervaded every corner of the home.
Alaina had escaped. She stood outside in the grass, her pelt wrapped over her shoulders. The house coughed up black smog. The gluttonous fire flickered and danced across the roof, consuming the whole building in its vengeance.
She turned her back on the smoldering, collapsing house. Her feet moved before her mind did as she made her way back to where she belonged. Cormac’s ghastly grasp could not reach down into the cool, comforting depths of the ocean. She would be a seal again among her pod, splashing, playing, and basking in the sun, back to her true home — the unforgetting sea.
IX.
“Finley! You useless boy! Pull the net harder!” Cormac scolded. Finley, now twelve years old, pulled in foot after foot of net, bringing several fish over the boat rail. The boy gritted his teeth, face flushed red from strain.
“I’m trying, Dad! Get off my back!” Finley retorted, tugging the last of the net in with a dramatic huff. “You could’ve helped, you know.” He stared defiantly at his father.
“Help you?” Cormac spat. “Like you’ll ever toughen up that way. Do you want to be as weak as your mother? Running away from responsibility like a coward?”
“What do you know about Mom?” Finley yelled. “She left because of you!”
Before Cormac could retort, a herring’s salty, wet body connected with his left cheek. Silence fell between them as they both stood frozen in shock.
“Damn useless boy,” Cormac muttered, slowly turning to face his son again. His eyes were wide with quiet fury, a dangerous expression that conveyed more than words ever could. Finley stepped back, knowing he had gone too far this time.
“Dad?”
“Amadán!” Cormac lunged forward and abruptly shoved Finley, who grunted and fell backward. His back hit the boat’s railing with enough force to send him tumbling over the edge. He let out a surprised yelp as he plunged into the water; the Irish term for fool buzzed in the back of his mind as he went. The surface rose above him as he descended into the kelp forest below. His vision blurred, and the saltwater stung his eyes.
A brown figure slipped between the stalks of kelp, drifting toward him at a leisurely pace. Soft fur brushed against his skin, a delicate yet reassuring touch. The feeling of fur soon enveloped his entire body like a warm blanket. It was an odd but comforting sensation, reminiscent of returning home for the first time. Before long, a strange tingling spread all over Finley.
His body shifted and changed before he had time to comprehend it: his limbs shrank and flattened into fins, fur-covered flesh appeared where there was none before, and his senses attuned to the underwater world of the ocean.
When Finley finally regained his vision, he found himself transformed into a seal, with an older female seal floating in front of him. She opened her mouth, releasing a soft, muffled bark, but somehow, Finley understood her perfectly. She had the voice that, for the past two years, had only graced Finley in his dreams.
“My son. Welcome home.”
Elle Lupkes is a Senior at Southwest Minnesota State University in Marshall, MN, pursuing a bachelor’s degree in English with an emphasis on creative writing. Besides writing, one of her favorite things to do in her free time is to learn how to crochet. She also enjoys singing with the SMSU choir.
