Another Life (Short Story - Art Prompt Writing Contest)

in #twbwritingcontest6 years ago

She stood, barefoot on the worn wood, washed by early morning frets that lapped the pier. The saltwater slipped from the tendrils of her hair, ribboning her pale, puckered body. She absently rubbed the fur she held between her fingers. The thick, oily insulted layer she had shed.

The pier was still closed, the first tinge of sunrise had yet to creep through the fog hanging above the waves. The last breath of night embraced her in the last of its shadowy shroud, on the cusp of yielding to the dawn.

The faint carnival music of the grandstand still echoed through her. The bustle of people, the vibrant stalls, the giddy cries. The smokey, sweet smell that had lingered in the air. The bright lights that had shone through the night, skimming the cresting waves across the bay in a long reaching invitation.

The light of the moon had been but a peeking crack in the blackness of night, leaving the gaudy, glowing beaded-strings a dancing kaleidoscope from below the crashing waves. The memories crept in, raising the hairs on her arms.

The water swirled and spat beneath the bleached boarding, the fine spray caught the soles of her feet through the slits, returning her to the brisk moment. The equipment was nearly all gone, the carnival was leaving.

The cold strands of her hair clung to chilled skin. She had hours before high tide. The grey morning was tinged with the faint blush of the coming day. A regular, rippling rhythm in her chest betrayed her nervous heart beat. The turbulence of deep currents but shallow waves across the surface.

She left dark wet footprints on the faded wood along the pier as the last ebbs of mist rolled through the salty air. She faltered, pausing with each step, her stomach filled with a giddy swirl of sickening butterflies. Each step was a decision that had to be made. She wavered ahead of the grand stand. Her hand grasping the rail as she weakened, over come with uncertainty.

Last night bravery had coursed through her veins in adrenaline driven waves. Now, alone, in the chill of the morning, the skeleton of the carnival laid bare around her, fear rose again in her heart.

Once a year it came, and the following day, it always left. The wind swept discards scattered along the bay, the only reality of the fleeting night. At first she had kept her distance, frightened by the loud music, the rumble and swell of the crowd. As years passed, her fears faded with them, she drew closer to the annual apparition with intensifying curiosity. For three years she had swam between the struts and shoals, drawn in by the flickering lights between the boards of the pier.

In the intoxicating rush of the night before, the dappled snippets of another world had whispered to her. Excitement had overtaken fear for the first time, and in a sudden spurt of liberating recklessness, she had approached the ladder rusting below the waterline. She had a natural grace in the water, there was an elegance to her twists and turns as she slipped free of her second skin below the surface. The skin-tight insulation released her bare form from it’s embrace, and she pulled the precious bundle against her chest.

She gripped the flaking metal of the ladder with one hand, the water slipping from her emerging body as though it had reluctantly clung to her. The convivial chorus of carnival had permeated through her as she climbed the ladder, her heart skipping a beat, her excitement rising with her.

Two pale blue eyes ablaze with emotion had peered between dark strands of wet hair as boots and heels paraded past her. Shouted promises of prizes easily won became audible between the calls and laughter.

She had only intended to take a peek, a single look of the annual apparition atop the pier, yet she could not look away. She had clung to the ladder, transfixed by the world before her.

She had nearly dropped the fur she pressed to her bosom when a voice caught her attention. A narrow slit had opened in the lacing of a small striped tent next to her.

“Child, you join us at last!”

There was a warmth to the tone that seemed to speak to something inside her, fighting the urge she felt to dive into the splashing waves below. Despite the fear that raged through her, she found herself leaning towards the gap.

“There is a home for you here, if you would have it.”

She stuttered as she grasped for the right words.

“I, I am not like you, there is, I am, I….”

The lacing loosened a little more, the gap widening. She could make out the vague shape of a soft older face in the dimness of the tarot tent.

“I am like you, we, we are all like you. There is a place here for you, if you would want it.”

She had been stunned into silence, her mind unable to accept the words spoken.

“You do not believe me,” the voice had observed, “here, feel this”

Dark grey fur pressed against the opening, the leather lacing parting the thick hairs. Touching it was like a compulsion, she didn’t think as she pressed her own fur against the ladder with her body, switching her grip to the other hand. She reached out, her fingertips brushing the familiar fur.

“This is…” she murmured, tailing off.

The voice didn’t wait for her to continue.

“Like I said, there is a life here for you if you want it. You don’t have to, I am sure you have a life below the waves. I just wanted you to know, there is another choice”

The lacing had whistled shut as the leather pulled tight through metal eyelets. Confusion had crashed through her, her head reeling as she clung to the ladder. She looked around, the faces, the people, the passersby, the carnival operators; the ones in the stalls, striped, hatted, shouting their offers. There was something that separated them from the crowds, something she couldn't quite place. The hair had risen up the back of her neck, below cold, wet locks.

Fingers poked through the lacing of the tent, creating a single gap. Lips moved in the dancing lights, illuminated as they were pressed to the opening.

“We leave at high tide tomorrow”

The tale of the Selkie's Carnival! In general legend, a selkie would either have a life below the waves in her seal form, or marry a human man and live on the land in her human form. Normally the man had stolen her selkie skin, trapping her there, but after having human children, she is torn between returning to her family in the ocean and her family on the land. Sometimes a selkie would willing give her skin to a man, so he knew she would not leave him in the night, in the rarest of tales, he would return her skin, saying he could not take it from her. This is a tale of a selkies who have chosen to live on the land, but with each other.

This is my entry to @thewritersblock 's Art Prompt Writing Contest - there are still a few days left to enter if this image inspired you!

Photo credit goes to @vaughndemont who won part one of this contest, and provided the photo to inspire a story. He does say this is a lake, but I got ocean vibes, hopefully that's ok :) the equipment probably powers the gazebo lights, but it reminded me a little of the set ups you see at the carnival, something about the grey image seemed like the dull feeling after a carnival has gone, everything a little faded by comparison.

Sort:  

Go here https://steemit.com/@a-a-a to get your post resteemed to over 72,000 followers.

Hi calluna,

Your post has been upvoted by the Curie community curation project and associated vote trail as exceptional content (human curated and reviewed). Keep creating awesome stuff! Have a great day :)

LEARN MORE: Join Curie on Discord chat and check the pinned notes (pushpin icon, upper right) for Curie Whitepaper, FAQ and most recent guidelines.

Wooo thank you so much! It means so much to me that putting my heart into things can pay off <3

What a nice story, also that curie vote below looks nice.

Thank you! Yes very nice :) It always surprises me when something does well, especially something like this which is more, like you say, nice. This is just one of those stories I wrote to try and make myself feel better, I wouldn't have rated it much myself but I have given up trying to tell what is and isn't good at this point. It is amazing how hard it is to be objective when it comes to my own writing, if I had listened to myself, I wouldn't have posted it.

Very interesting take on the prompt. I have not heard of the selkie legends before, or at least remembered them. Somewhat akin to mermaids but not quite.

There is a lot of poetic and lyrical prose here which I enjoyed. And looking at your blog I wasn't at all surprised to see poetry :). Well done and congrats on the curie @calluna

Thank you very much! I have been blending poetic influences into my stories recently and really like how it feels. I often get a poetry line that doesn't seem right for a poem, but I just put a mental pin in it, and it normally comes back up in a story.

Selkies are more Scottish & Irish, I am not sure if they are in legends world over, but they are one of my favourites, very happy to be bringing the idea to more authors, I always wish there were more selkie stories, so you will have to drop me a link if you ever write one and I miss it ;)

I finally found an opportunity to read your story, @calluna. Very nice! I like your rich use of language. I also really enjoyed reading the legend behind the story.

Thank you, it is a favourite legend of mine, I have so many childhood memories of being sat by a fire while my dad read selkie stories, they always had such beautiful pictures of wild women and the sea <3

Coin Marketplace

STEEM 0.36
TRX 0.12
JST 0.040
BTC 70846.59
ETH 3567.69
USDT 1.00
SBD 4.79