starlightsaoirse (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
starlightsaoirse) wrote2011-01-19 01:34 am
starlightsaoirse) wrote2011-01-19 01:34 am
Entry tags:
original fic
This is...a snippet from the story I'm working on. Irish mythology set in and intertwined with modern day. The narrator is a twenty-something woman named Fiona. You don't need a lot of background to understand this bit.
“Dad.”
“Hm?” He was occupied with the mashed potatoes.
“Tell me about my mother.”
“What?” He nearly dropped his fork.
“Tell me about Mama.”
“Sweetheart, you know just about everything there is to know. What do you want me to tell you?” I didn’t miss the shadows in his eyes, and questions beat at me—where did she come from, why don’t I have grandparents, did she even have a last name for Christ’s sake—but I bit them all back.
“The truth.”
Rather than being startled, as I’d expected, he simply met my gaze across the table, eyes serious as he studied me. I met his gaze calmly. At length, he nodded and poured us each another glass of wine.
“Once, there was a young man, an idealistic, if arrogant, young man, who travelled to a new land to learn their language and their culture. The people there were kind to him and took him in and treated him as one of their own. He did work for them on the small, wild island, and in this way earned his knowledge, and also learned more about their way of life than he’d ever imagined.
“When he had time to spare, the man explored the island. He found that he especially loved to go down to the shore and watch the seals that lived there. Playful, graceful, beautiful creatures, they were. ‘Careful not to get too close,’ the village folk warned him. ‘One of those selkies might decide to keep you.’ But he kept going, for he could not deny himself this pleasure. And then one day, when he went to the shore to sit on his favorite rock and watch the selkies play, he found a woman there waiting for him.
“She was beautiful, with wild, curling dark hair, eyes the changing green-blue of the sea, and milk-pale skin. She spoke only the language of the island, but by that time the man had learned it well enough.
“The woman went home with him, and the townsfolk smiled knowingly when they met her. The two were wed soon after. Time passed, and they were happy together. They had a child who was the mirror image of her mother, and they both delighted in their small child as she grew.
“However, over time, the man could not help but notice that all was not well with his wife. She had become withdrawn, distracted, given to sitting quietly for hours, simply staring at the sea. She eventually refused to take their daughter down to the shore, unwilling to watch the seal colony frolicking in the water. The man tried all he could think of to make her happy, but the longing she felt was greater even than her love for her small family, which was not inconsiderable.
“And so the man knew what he had to do. One night, while their child slept, he took his wife by the hand and walked with her to the shore for the last time. Once there, they shared their last moments together, and finally his wife stepped into the sea. As the man let go of her hand, she gave him one last smile before diving into the water.
“No woman surfaced—rather a seal, in her place, beautiful, graceful, playful, as she had been, that made its way to the rocks just off shore where the others were waiting. The man stayed, watching, until the sun began to rise and he knew their daughter would soon be waking, and so he turned and went back home. And if the townsfolk smiled sadly at him and his child in the days following, it was only because they knew already what he had just learned: you can love a selkie, and you might even keep her a while, but in the end, if you love her, you have to let her go home.”
I was too stunned to say anything. My face was wet with tears, and through my blurred vision, I could see that my father's was, too. I couldn’t voice any of the thoughts that tripped over themselves in my mind. All I could do was walk around the table to my father—my brave, loving, kind, selfless father—and hug him.
“Oh, Fiona,” he sighed. “She loved you so much. She wanted to take you with her. I refused. That was the one big fight we had. We—compromised.”
“That’s why we visited the seals every day.”
He smiled faintly. “Yes.”
“And that’s why we always go see the seals, every time we go back to Ireland.”
He nodded, wiping his face. “Yes.”
Realization dawned as childhood memories came rushing back. “She was the pretty one, the one who let me ride on her back.”
“She always did like to make me nervous.”
“Dad.”
“Hm?” He was occupied with the mashed potatoes.
“Tell me about my mother.”
“What?” He nearly dropped his fork.
“Tell me about Mama.”
“Sweetheart, you know just about everything there is to know. What do you want me to tell you?” I didn’t miss the shadows in his eyes, and questions beat at me—where did she come from, why don’t I have grandparents, did she even have a last name for Christ’s sake—but I bit them all back.
“The truth.”
Rather than being startled, as I’d expected, he simply met my gaze across the table, eyes serious as he studied me. I met his gaze calmly. At length, he nodded and poured us each another glass of wine.
“Once, there was a young man, an idealistic, if arrogant, young man, who travelled to a new land to learn their language and their culture. The people there were kind to him and took him in and treated him as one of their own. He did work for them on the small, wild island, and in this way earned his knowledge, and also learned more about their way of life than he’d ever imagined.
“When he had time to spare, the man explored the island. He found that he especially loved to go down to the shore and watch the seals that lived there. Playful, graceful, beautiful creatures, they were. ‘Careful not to get too close,’ the village folk warned him. ‘One of those selkies might decide to keep you.’ But he kept going, for he could not deny himself this pleasure. And then one day, when he went to the shore to sit on his favorite rock and watch the selkies play, he found a woman there waiting for him.
“She was beautiful, with wild, curling dark hair, eyes the changing green-blue of the sea, and milk-pale skin. She spoke only the language of the island, but by that time the man had learned it well enough.
“The woman went home with him, and the townsfolk smiled knowingly when they met her. The two were wed soon after. Time passed, and they were happy together. They had a child who was the mirror image of her mother, and they both delighted in their small child as she grew.
“However, over time, the man could not help but notice that all was not well with his wife. She had become withdrawn, distracted, given to sitting quietly for hours, simply staring at the sea. She eventually refused to take their daughter down to the shore, unwilling to watch the seal colony frolicking in the water. The man tried all he could think of to make her happy, but the longing she felt was greater even than her love for her small family, which was not inconsiderable.
“And so the man knew what he had to do. One night, while their child slept, he took his wife by the hand and walked with her to the shore for the last time. Once there, they shared their last moments together, and finally his wife stepped into the sea. As the man let go of her hand, she gave him one last smile before diving into the water.
“No woman surfaced—rather a seal, in her place, beautiful, graceful, playful, as she had been, that made its way to the rocks just off shore where the others were waiting. The man stayed, watching, until the sun began to rise and he knew their daughter would soon be waking, and so he turned and went back home. And if the townsfolk smiled sadly at him and his child in the days following, it was only because they knew already what he had just learned: you can love a selkie, and you might even keep her a while, but in the end, if you love her, you have to let her go home.”
I was too stunned to say anything. My face was wet with tears, and through my blurred vision, I could see that my father's was, too. I couldn’t voice any of the thoughts that tripped over themselves in my mind. All I could do was walk around the table to my father—my brave, loving, kind, selfless father—and hug him.
“Oh, Fiona,” he sighed. “She loved you so much. She wanted to take you with her. I refused. That was the one big fight we had. We—compromised.”
“That’s why we visited the seals every day.”
He smiled faintly. “Yes.”
“And that’s why we always go see the seals, every time we go back to Ireland.”
He nodded, wiping his face. “Yes.”
Realization dawned as childhood memories came rushing back. “She was the pretty one, the one who let me ride on her back.”
“She always did like to make me nervous.”