OK - as if some of the earlier words had been difficult to fit into a story, this one was a challenge to use Fish, Waddle and Terpsichorean. The people of the village had always known that she was special. She’d been borne at sea, her mother desperately trying to reach shore beforehand but, ultimately, failing. It was said that her father was the King of the Deeps, but legend varied on who he was. Some said a canny fisherman who had claimed a small island for himself. Some said that he was an ancient deity of the waters who brought about the storms and waves. Some used the title for the ancient albatross that could often be seen flying over the bay.
Her mother had died shortly after her birth – panicking that the King would come for her, given that she was borne at sea, rather than on land. That made her his, and one day he would come to claim her. She claimed that she could keep her daughter safe by giving herself to the sea, and so she did. Some nodded at her ancient wisdom, knowing the truth of her words. Some thought her crazy, possessed of a madness that made the whimsical seem true. And so, she was raised collectively by the village and, from an early age, they’d seen that she loved the sea. Some would encourage her to play in it, others tried to keep her away. They named her Muireann and she was as fair as the name would suggest and as she grew older and matured she only grew more beautiful. Many was the man, and woman, who courted her, but she would always say that her only love was the sea – there was no room for anybody else. From an early age, she loved to dance and the people of village found that when she did so, their fishing was more successful. To the sound and beat of her terpsichorean movements, the fish came closet to shore than they normally would. And the fishermen took advantage of this and encouraged her to dance on the beach whenever they would go to sea. She was always happy to dance for her love. Occasionally, the sea claimed a fisherman. It was a dangerous job. There was always the chance, in a storm, that you might go overboard and not come home again. Even if it was said that people drowned in calm seas when she danced – it was a price worth paying for the bounty she brought in. There was pause one day, the day that she turned twenty-one, when a penguin waddled out of the sea when she danced. Where had it come from? The climate was too warm for them around the village – it would have to have swum a remarkable distance! And then a second, and a third came ashore. People whispered that Muireann’s dancing had brought them and people believed it. They had always known that she was special. More and more creatures of the sea came from that day, those that could come onto land doing so to watch, the others clogging up the sea and making the fishing harder. She had to stop, the fishermen said – they couldn’t get to the fishing grounds for the walruses and seals that wanted to watch her. She had to stop, but she would not. She would not disappoint her love. As she grew older and kept dancing, the village started to empty. There was no fishing to be done any longer – the other creatures ate all of the fish and the fishermen couldn’t reach those that were left. The oldest stayed, those that believed. She kept dancing, and the creatures kept coming. One day, she was gone, as were the creatures. Her clothes were found on the beach, and a note was with them. She said that her love had called her, that the myriad creatures of the deeps had been the messenger, but it had taken her time to understand. She had gone, the note said, to dance for him beneath the waves. The people started to return, for the fishing was strong again. Even without her dancing, it seemed that the village that had been her home and had loved her was blessed. And, occasionally, around a fire an old fisherman would tell the tale of Muireann, princess of the sea.
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Flash FictionSome shorter fiction, usually based on some kind of challenge. Archives
October 2021
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