A story set in modern day, it is rare to find mythical creatures in a relationship with a human living outside of Elocia. This story, however, is one of the rare exceptions.
***
A trail of muddy footprints led through the hallway, connecting to the quite, bare feet of Isla as she crept towards the bedroom. The door stood ajar as it always did, and she could see Chris sound asleep where she had left him not hours before.
In the early morning darkness, she changed out of her wet pajamas and found her way back under the covers, careful not to upset the mattress and wake her husband. As a selkie, the call of the sea had been too much to resist that night. Closing her eyes, she let her night's adventures lull her to sleep, only to wake up shortly after to the sun streaming through the blinds.
Chris was still asleep, his steady breathing filling the room as Isla rolled over and stretched all her limbs towards the corners of the large bed. Her feet dragged against the sheets and she felt something crumble between her toes. Pausing, she pulled the sheets off, the crisp morning air was cool on her skin. When she looked down any semblance of sleep was erased from her mind as she jumped from the bed. Her feet were still covered in dirt. Her gaze followed from her feet to the trail of earthen footprints that led from the bed right to the door.
Chris turned in his sleep and she attempted to calm her rapidly beating heart as she crept into the bathroom to retrieve a towel. There was one sitting on the counter that she snapped up before turning on the tub and scrubbing the remainder of the dirt from her feet.
The small particles breaking free and swirling down the drain she ran the towel under the tap to make sure that there was nothing clinging to it as she got up to go wipe up the trail she had left.
"Morning," Chris said sleepily. Isla jumped slightly, dropping the towel. "Everything okay?"
He walked over to her and kissed her temple, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She nodded, smiling a little. She wouldn't have time to clean up her footprints, he would know where she went last night.
"Right, I'll go make the coffee then." He turned to walk out of the bathroom.
"Wait..." Chris stopped, and turned to face her. He leaned against the door frame to the bathroom, as though sleep was still weighing on him.
"I-I went swimming last night..." she said. He stood up, and went to look in the hallway, seeing the trail of dirt that led from the front door to the bedroom.
"Isla," he whispered. She hugged her arms around herself. She knew he was upset. He sighed.
"Would you have even told me if you had time to clean up the footprints?"
"I don't know..."
"You know I don't like you going to the ocean by yourself."
"I know," she whispered, turning her gaze out the window. "I don't know what it is... but recently, I can't seem to control it. It's like an impulse I can't fight."
She threw the towel into the hamper and then made her way past him, looking at the trail and then stepping around it to get to the pantry.
"Besides," she added. "It's not like anything will happen."
"We don't know that." Chris walked past her to the kitchen to fill up a bucket with water as Isla took the mop out of the pantry. He put the bucket down by her feet and took the mop from her.
"You keep telling me you hid my cloak too well for me to ever be in danger of finding it. So I don't understand why you're so worried." Chris stopped mopping the floor to look her in the eye.
"Even if the cloak is well hidden, that doesn't mean that there isn't danger involved. What if something happened while you were out there? Something as normal as a riptide. You also seem to forget the fact that you're pregnant. You should be in bed getting a good nights sleep, not waltzing around the beach at all hours of the night."
"I'm trying to control it, I really am. It's just been harder recently." Her gaze followed the now freshly mopped path she had made last night. The water had been beautiful, cool but not freezing. The ocean had clawed its way up onto the beach as if reaching out for her, calling her home. She had felt it's pull around her ankles, then knees, then waist as each wave brought her further and further away from the shore. When her stomach was submerged she could feel the baby kicking, as if they felt the same things she did when she was in the water.
It was only once her foot had brushed up against the rocky bottom that she realized how low the moon had gotten in the sky. The salt water had dripped from her body as she walked back to the house, the soft earth clinging to her feet, weighing her down as she had traveled the well-known path back to her home, to Chris.
"There. That's that," Chris said, putting the mop away and picking up the dirty water bucket. Isla shook her head to clear the lingering feelings from the previous night and followed Chris into the kitchen. He turned on the coffee maker and sat down at the counter. Isla's hand moved to her stomach, the child was quiet now, probably asleep. So many things had changed since she had become pregnant. She had felt homesick before, it wasn't an unusual feeling for her. It helped that she couldn't see the ocean from her house, but the baby had changed things. She felt drawn to the ocean in a way that she had never felt before. It called to her like a siren song, dangerously promising her all her desires.
The coffee maker let out a series of beeps as Chris stood to grab a mug. Isla stood rooted in her place, her gaze once again lingering on what lay just beyond the trees, just beyond her vision. She could almost hear the waves as their invisible force pounded against her head.
"Isla, you coming?" Chris called from the living room. The waves quieted, replaced by the morning news playing from the TV. The television was something she had never quite been able to get invested in. It was the reason they always had a book sitting on their coffee table. Their most recent addition was a book on Irish mythology. Most of the information within it was a load of crap but the cover and images were pretty enough to serve as a diversion for the five minute weather segment that played each morning.
"It looks like it's supposed to be a beautiful day. We could pack a lunch and go to the beach?" Chris suggested.
"Really?!" Isla was shocked at his suggestion, but didn't hesitate in springing up for fear that he might change his mind.
"Yeah, even though you just went last night I haven't been all week. And I didn't move to the beach to never visit it." Isla softly punched his shoulder.
"I'll get the beach bag packed and you can make lunch?"
"Sounds like a plan." Chris stood up and made his way to the kitchen, and Isla made her way to the small mudroom where they kept the canvas tote bag they dedicated to the beach after they realized they were never going to get all of the sand out of it.
After everything was packed and a quick breakfast was made and eaten they headed down to the beach. The trees that bordered their back yard served as a tilting point for the earth. It sloped sharply down, only held in place by the roots that wove their way in and out of the earth. The small path was hard to traverse during the day, let alone at night. It was a wonder Isla hadn't tripped during her journey too and from the ocean.
Chris walked in front of Isla, and kept the pace slow. Through the trees she could hear the waves as they beat against the shore, their rhythmic pulses brought her a sense of peace as she carefully stepped down the steep path.
Once on the beach, where the earth leveled out and the sand replaced the grass and dirt, Isla spread out her towel besides Chris'. They spent some time splashing in the shallows and body surfing the small waves to shore.
Isla got thirsty and stepped out of the water, wringing out her long hair. She sat down on her towel, pulling out a water bottle from the cooler that Chris had packed. He waved at her from the water before diving under another wave, emerging upright on the other side.
Isla buried her feet in the warm sand as she watched him dive under wave after wave after wave. She leaned back, placing a hand on her stomach, digging her feet deeper into the sand. It didn't take long for Chris to tire and join her on the towels. They sat in silence, enjoying the view.
"What do you do here... when I'm not?" Chris asked, rolling over on his towel to face her.
"Nothing much. Float. But mostly I lose track of time." She shivered a little as she thought of last night. It had been enchanting, but so much time had passed without her noticing.
"What will happen... when the baby comes? What if... what if you're here when..." Isla didn't move. She dug her feet deeper into the sand.
"I know," she whispered. "But that's still a ways off, right? We'll have time to figure it out."
"I just don't want our child to see the way you look when you think about going home."
"Is it really that bad?" Isla winced. Chris paused and inhaled, slowing his breathing to match with the waves as they collapsed upon the shore.
"I just want them to know how wonderful their mother is," he finally sighed.
Isla turned her head to the side, meeting Chris' eyes. She wanted to fill the silence, but couldn't find the words to do it. She took his hand and pulled it across her body so it was laying palm side against her stomach. The baby was awake, moving a little every now and then. She hoped that this gesture would replace the words that were lost in her mouth.
"Let's go home."
Isla didn't bother putting on her sandals as they made their way back up the slope. Stepping over the newly formed roots that had buried themselves deep within the ground. Her feet collected the soft dirt below her footfalls until they were covered in earth like the roots that had anchored themselves against the hill where land becomes sea.
Comments (0)
See all