The pup looked straight at Nicholas, it was too dark for him to make out the exact details of the pup’s face but he noticed how it began to back away from him, as if sensing danger “Maa!”
It sniffed the air again, and like that the pup dove back into the water, letting the current carry it far from the boat. Nicholas brushed his fingers through his ratty hair, pushing the knarred moss like strands from his face. All that was left was to put it back in the sea. Picking up his knife, and returning it to its sheath, Nicholas forced the skinned animal back into the net. Hoisting it up in the air, he lowered the body into the water, once submerged he loosened the top of the nets and released the body and watched as it sunk down into the brackish black of the water. He had done a decent thing; he had given the seal a proper burial.
With one final look into the turmoil of the waves, he weighed anchor and set course for home. When he reached the cove and roped his boat to the pier he made the long walk back to the small seaside cottage that his family occupied. As to be expected, his family could be found sound asleep. The five children were split between two beds. The two girls shared the bed located just under the only window in the cottage. The boys staked their claim on the bed that rested just opposite of the fireplace. Nicholas’s wife, Hilda, could be found sleeping alone in the bedroom. Without a word or a bit of noise, Nicholas made his way into the room, removed his shoes, and slipped under the covers, wrapping his arms around Hilda’s waist, noting her swollen belly and feeling the slight kick of tiny feet in response to his touch. After a few minutes, exhaustion took him and Nicholas fell asleep, only to discover a pair of terrified onyx eyes looking at him from under his eyelids.
The months passed quickly after that night. Nicholas told no one of what happened out of on the water. Why would he? Despite one wasted night, things seemed to go back to normal after disposing of the sea scavenger. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to pull the grey pelt from his hiding spot under the floorboards of the house. No one in town would buy it, once word got out that Nicholas killed selkie; he and his family would be shunned. The other villagers were already wary of them. They did not need any more encouragement. He did not feel any pressure in selling it anyway, night after night, his nets would come up brim-full with thrashing fish.
However, something had changed after that night, though Nicholas did not notice for the longest time. One evening, as he was pushing off into the bay he noticed a series of beady eyes watching him from the safety of the water. It was then that he realized that the grey seals of the area had taken to observing him. They never came in close, seeming content to keep their distance. It was as if they knew.
Nicholas did not think much of it at first, but it was slowly starting to get to him. Sure, he had felt guilt for killing that seal, but he was within his rights to do it. After all, he couldn’t let his family become poor or starved. Still, that didn’t stop him from seeing those eyes, both wide with terror and glassed over in death. They looked so aware, so human. Such thoughts were shaken off, it was just a seal, nothing more, and it could have ruined his business. It was the seal’s own fault for being so stupid, it should have known better. It was not as if he was the first fisherman to kill a seal to avoid competition for the fish, in fact, Nicholas had dispatched of pesky seals in the past, what made this one different from the others, why was it haunting him in this way?
The more he thought about that seal, the more irritable he became. When he first noticed the seals watching him, Nicholas felt it best to ignore them. Even then, he felt their presence in the water; he knew they were there, even when they submerged. At one point, while walking out to the docks, he noticed that one of them had strayed a little too close to his boat. With a snarl, he picked up a large rock and ran onto the dock. When he reached it, he threw the rock and missed the animal by an inch, even then it did not move. It just looked at him with a similar set of eyes, so calculating, so present, but they did not share the same color as the one he had killed so many nights ago. This seal possessed a strange set of blues, in this light they looked to be glowing, something along the lines of the brilliant sapphire sheen that came off the scales of herring. The seal fixed its gaze on Nicholas, as if daring him to throw another rock; and just like that it dove beneath the water.
One particular afternoon found Nicholas peddling his fish near the docks. A few villagers passed him by, eyeing his stock sometimes picking up the fish and examining them carefully, looking for lice and possible disease. A well-dressed gentleman approached his booth and began the customary process of inspecting the catch. Nicholas dove into his usual selling process “Caught fresh last night sir.”
He looked up at him, his eyes an unearthly shade of blue and his skin darning a greyish, almost peaky tint. “Yes, I know, you’re the one who fishes at night. Dangerous practice I’m told.”
Chuckling, Nicholas shook his head. “Only dangerous if you jump at shadows.”
The stranger’s eyes flashed for a moment but he smiled good-naturedly, though the gesture did not reach his eyes. Nicholas continued, absolutely oblivious “It always bears good fruit on my part, the fish bite more during the night.”
The remark received a polite nod as the blue eyed stranger picked up one of the fish. He sniffed it and reeled back, his lips curled up in a disgusted snarl “It smells diseased!”
Several of the villagers spun at this observation. Nicholas had never brought bad fish to market, though some wished it were so. The stranger pressed the fish close to Nicholas’s face. “Smell it for yourself, your fish are plagued with sickness!”
Nicholas glared at the man and looked toward the villagers. They appeared to be watching, their breath catching, waiting. Chuckling, Nicholas sniffed the fish and pulled back. Bile rising in his throat, he snatched the fish away and peeled back the scales. Underneath was nothing but rotting black meat. He dropped the fish; looked about, realizing that people were coming in for a closer look, trying to see if the other fish had been contaminated. Panicking, Nicholas grabbed another fish and scrapped away the scales. Black as coal, he did it again; bits of mold tinted the pink flesh. Everything was contaminated, unsellable. Throwing the fish away, Nicholas searched the crowd for the blue eyed stranger. He swore he heard a splash that came from the docks. The stranger was nowhere to be found. Those eyes, they looked for familiar, Nicholas swore he had seen them before.
A week went by after that, and Nicholas did not see the stranger again. The seals seemed to have departed the bay as well, much to the disappointment of some of the villagers. The creatures’ presence had excited the stories of selkies. Paisley and Maisey insisted that Nicholas take them to the docks to listen to the tales the old women were telling. Maisey clung to her father’s sleeve and Paisley disappeared into the crowd in search of the few friends she had made despite her father’s fishing habit. There was a slight murmur of conversation amongst the storyteller’s audience and then a craggily old voice hushed it. It was the voice of one of the village’s elders, Rowena. She was blind as could be, knew of every tale, and thought on all the things one should fear and love when out on the ocean. “Selkies, oh selkies my dears, they are nothing to be afraid of. They are a gentle sort, and to show mercy to one, gives you miracles and blessings, oh yes. You will be blessed as Jacob Griffith was, he heeded my stories, he showed mercy to a wayward selkie, and now he catches more fish than our dear Nicholas Firth, over there!”
Just like that, all eyes were on Nicholas. Maisey glanced up at her father, and her grip tightened on his sleeve. He only laughed and called to the old storyteller “I thought you were blind, yet you’re pointing right at me.”
The old woman nodded, cobwebbed eyes turned to the skies “I can smell you from here Nicholas Firth, and I smell a curse on you. Tell me, how your fishing has been this past week, I’ve been told of rotten fish with pink flesh turned blacker than coal!?”
He glared at the hag, putting an arm protectively around Maisey. “Just a stroke of bad luck, every fisherman has it at least once.”
Rowena shook a gnarled finger in his direction “Oh no, no, no, no. You are cursed Nicholas Firth, you did something bad on the waters, and you pay for it now.”
She reached out a hand, and pulled stunned a Paisley toward her. “There, there dear. Your father is not all bad, just didn’t know what he was doing is all.”
Nicholas had had enough; sifting through the villagers he snatched Paisley from the old woman’s grasp “Come along Paisley, she’s just saying this to get people to listen. That’s all this is.”
His eldest daughter looked back at old Rowena. The storyteller shrugged and returned to her stories as if nothing had happened. She broke into song, but Nicholas and his girls only heard the first verse
“The selkie, she comes upon the waves
She come to dance upon the mists
The selkies, they come to dance in
The stray light of moon
Oh, the selkies are coming soon…”
They left the audience and started the trek back to their cottage on the hilltop overlooking the ocean. As the trio made their way up to the cottage, Paisley glanced out towards the ocean. “Father?”
Nicholas paused looked down at Maisey and told her to go on ahead and help her mother with dinner. Falling back, he stood with his eldest daughter; he waited for her to continue. After a few seconds, she looked up at him, her wide thistle green eyes imploring “Father, what was Rowena talking about?”
Sighing, he surveyed the coastline “She talks of nothing but fairytales and superstition.”
Dark eyebrows quirking, Paisley looked toward the cobblestone path “Have you ever thought that perhaps the villagers are right about selkies?”
Nicholas groaned “I always thought you were smarter than this.”
The gentle thistles of her eyes exploded into barbs at those words “Why must you think that everyone is stupid if they believe in something?”
Rubbing the bridge between his nose, Nicholas took a deep breath “I don’t it’s just….Why do you ask about this now?”
She looked toward the sea again “I think I see them sometimes…”
Leaning to the side to get a better look at her face, Nicholas queried “Who?”
There was an air of longing in her stance “The selkies, they come to the shore some nights, I go out to watch, sometimes I dance with them…”
Paisley fixed her father with a look of calm delight even though he looked ready to declare her mad on the spot. “I think you’ve seen them too. You just don’t want to think that you did.”
She turned and left her father, making her way home to help her mother prepare supper for the rest of the family. Paisley and Nicholas did not speak of their conversation on the path, if anything; Nicholas refused to think about it. After dinner, he grabbed his gear and made for the docks. He performed the usual rituals that came with all his nights of fishing. He cast off at the setting of the sun, waved at his passing fellow fishermen. But unlike the usual nights he left the safety of the bay, and made for the open ocean. Tonight marked the start of summer, and the fish would no longer be biting in the bay until the end of October.
Making himself comfortable just outside the bay Nicholas lowered the nets. The moon was full again, lying fair and frigid upon the water. For the first time in over a month, the fisherman felt at peace. Not a seal in sight and the conditions were good, if not perfect for fishing. This would be the night that he would mend his poor luck after a long week of catching nothing but rot.
An hour or so passed and Nicholas felt it was time to pull in the nets and survey his catch. The nets seemed heavy; which lifted his spirits. The fisherman’s heart pounded with excitement. Only to stop short when the net hung before him, not a single fish could be found tangled in the ropes. However the net was not empty; it housed a single bit of life, a small seal pup. Eyes large, but they did not share the same color. One was blue as the sapphire sheen of herring scales, and the other looked iris-less, dark as onyx as it reflected the pallid glow of the moon that hung above them. Both were fixed on him, wide with terror as if the pup knew what would become of it.
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