emily and the selkie (part 1 of 2 or at most 3)
(original fiction. i like selkies. probably a children's story or YA story in two parts? concrit appreciated. it came out kind of englishy on its own. pleased with myself because i haven't written anything in ages)
Emily does not - has not ever - taken to mackintoshes easily. The rubbery water-barriers had always frightened her; their horrifying black hides swallow her whole, engulf her still-slender frame like (she imagines) a walrus would. (She imagines Charlie would laugh, and rock on his heels, and poke gentle fun at this as he always did before hugging her in his great bearlike arms. But Charlie was at Cambridge having his own Adventures and so she must have hers.) Still. Today the rain was pouring down and bouncing back up again out of great grey puddles. Her father was in town (which meant up at pub) and her mother was asleep (which meant sewing sulky seams, muslin curtains they would end up keeping with excuses, because no one would buy such a seam sewn in anger, or so said Emily's mother.)
So perhaps it was worth the wet horror of the mackintosh to avoid the worst of this disagreement. And then she remembered the skin she'd seen last night before the storm rolled in, and her heart was lighter and she skipped down the beach as best she could in her heavy boots.
*
It was there again.
It was not where she had last seen it, and her heart had sank a little; but she kept looking (for it wasn't as though she could go home just yet) and around the corner and on a pile of enormous rocks there it was - an enormous shimmering black-brown skin that had been shucked off just as cleanly as if she'd shucked off her bathing clothes; and she reached out a hand to touch it, and it felt cool and beautiful like the most wonderful, soft leather and smelled just faintly of seaweed.
"Can I help you?"
Emily turned.
The selkie's voice was soft and gentle. Her eyes were amused.
(tbc.)
Emily does not - has not ever - taken to mackintoshes easily. The rubbery water-barriers had always frightened her; their horrifying black hides swallow her whole, engulf her still-slender frame like (she imagines) a walrus would. (She imagines Charlie would laugh, and rock on his heels, and poke gentle fun at this as he always did before hugging her in his great bearlike arms. But Charlie was at Cambridge having his own Adventures and so she must have hers.) Still. Today the rain was pouring down and bouncing back up again out of great grey puddles. Her father was in town (which meant up at pub) and her mother was asleep (which meant sewing sulky seams, muslin curtains they would end up keeping with excuses, because no one would buy such a seam sewn in anger, or so said Emily's mother.)
So perhaps it was worth the wet horror of the mackintosh to avoid the worst of this disagreement. And then she remembered the skin she'd seen last night before the storm rolled in, and her heart was lighter and she skipped down the beach as best she could in her heavy boots.
*
It was there again.
It was not where she had last seen it, and her heart had sank a little; but she kept looking (for it wasn't as though she could go home just yet) and around the corner and on a pile of enormous rocks there it was - an enormous shimmering black-brown skin that had been shucked off just as cleanly as if she'd shucked off her bathing clothes; and she reached out a hand to touch it, and it felt cool and beautiful like the most wonderful, soft leather and smelled just faintly of seaweed.
"Can I help you?"
Emily turned.
The selkie's voice was soft and gentle. Her eyes were amused.
(tbc.)