Selkie Child

A short story inspired by Scottish folklore (+ some thoughts)

The Selkie Child crawled over the dank rocks, drawn by the lap of waves and the warm, vinegary scent of battered fish. Her mouth watered. Granny had come!

The Selkie Child’s small, webbed fists grasped at the slick rock as she hauled herself up to the mouth of the cave. She felt clumsy as a fledgling in her cumbersome sealskin coat but Granny would scold her for not wearing it. Her lips slid over her barbed teeth, unable to contain a grin. She’d been good. Which meant she might be allowed to eat supper at the edge of the cave. She loved watching the boats bob in the harbour like sleepy gulls while the setting sun threaded the dark waves with gold.

After a final heave, she hauled onto the upper ledge with a crow of excitement. Fresh air whipped the salty tang of chips into the cave, sharpening her appetite. She blinked, the last vestiges of daylight nipping her eyes after days of darkness. Shapes near the cave mouth came into focus. The Selkie Child’s mirth dissolved, like foam on the shore; it wasn’t Granny at the cave entrance, with two fish suppers tucked under her oxter, but a gang of ragged children.

Normal children.

Faster than the flick of a minnow’s tail, the Selkie Child ducked down from the ledge. Ancient memory spurred her muscles to dive deep and fast, to speed through gloomy undercurrents, far from the flash of hooks and strangling nets.

She landed with a crunch on a pile of crab shells. Who were those children? And where was Granny? Hunger groaned in her belly; she hadn’t left her cave for two days. She hunkered down and scuffed her foot against an empty, brittle claw. Eating the carcass of whatever creature the sea dragged into the cave could sustain her temporarily, but not forever. And the bloated flesh tasted more of water than meat.

Sooner or later, she’d have to leave the cave. Against all Granny’s warnings.

You’re too different, Granny had said. It’s better to stay here, where you’re safe. Folk can be cruel, especially children.

She’d seen her reflection in pools of seawater at the cave’s entrance. Poking two fingers under her lips, she’d pulled them back to examine the rows of mottled, needle-sharp teeth. They seemed at odds with her wide, black eyes, which excreted a strange mucus that Granny was forever wiping away with her hankie. She knew she looked different, but something else lurked beneath her bumpy, grey skin - wildness. It darted through her veins, swift and bold as a seal chasing down prey.

Sometimes she’d forget herself, and snatch the fish supper cradled in Granny’s arms, tearing apart newspaper and batter to scoop white chunks of haddock into her serrated mouth. More than once she’d noticed Granny flinch when she licked the grease from the webs between her fingers, having wolfed down the fish, bones and all.

The Selkie Child twisted hanks of oil-black locks in her clammy, grey fingers. If she left the cave the cruel folk Granny spoke of would do more than flinch. So why had Granny abandoned her?

She choked back a whimper, but soon shuddering waves wracked her body, spilling over into gulping sobs that echoed against cave walls washed smooth by centuries of saltwater.

“Did you hear that?” came an inquisitive voice.

“Hear what?” replied another, seemingly around a mouthful of chips.

The Selkie Child pressed her webbed fingers against her lips. She’d almost forgotten the children huddled around the cave’s entrance.

“It sounded like someone crying.” Slow footsteps accompanied the inquisitive voice into the cave.

The Selkie Child scrambled upright. What would they do if they discovered her? In her panic she stumbled, slipping over a slick patch of seaweed. Bones and shells clattered across the rocks as she fell.

“It’s the fairy!” a third voice squealed.

“Don’t be daft,” the first said. “Someone’s in there, they might need help.”

“Better you than me!”

Pain seared the Selkie Child’s lip as she bit down a yelp. Her ankle throbbed fire and blood trickled from grazes on her knees and palms. She tried to get up but found her ankle wedged under a sharp rock.

“Hello? Is someone there?”

The voice and its echoes washed over her. A drowning panic filled her lungs as the footsteps drew closer. She tried to slow her heartbeat like she did when water filled the cave twice a day and she had to submerge, kicking against the surging tide. Once she gained the open waves she could breathe again, bobbing and diving on the water’s ebony swell. Sometimes seals joined her, the moonlight silvering their domed heads as they nosed through the waves, delighting her with playful huffs of spray from their snouts. She’d never felt freer than in those weightless moments.

The Selkie Child flattened her body against the rock. Sundown approached, turning the cave velvety black. If she lay still perhaps they wouldn’t notice her, then she’d be safe. It flashed into the Selkie Child’s mind that the intruder was either very brave or very stupid to enter a cave at dusk this close to high tide.

A blue light flashed against the damp walls, beaming from a strange, rectangular pebble in the intruder’s hand. The Selkie Child froze.

“Hello! Are you hurt?”

The intruder slipped over the rocks towards her, a mass of ginger curls bouncing around her shoulders. The Selkie Child wrapped as much of the sealskin coat around her as she could, but even its thick folds couldn’t shield her grey pallor and bulbous eyes from the invasive light. As the intruder drew closer, the Selkie Child discerned a child of similar age to her. She wore a long, hairless coat like Granny’s and thick rubber boots.

“Your leg’s bleeding. Is it stuck?”

The girl squatted down next to her, angling the luminescent pebble at her trapped ankle. The girl’s brow knitted above a pair of normal-sized eyes.

“The rock’s too heavy for me to move,” she said. “I’ll try lifting it, then you can slide your ankle out, ok?”

The Selkie Child didn’t move or speak. Her barbed smile might dissuade the girl from helping if indeed that was what she was doing.

The girl stuck her tongue between her smooth, white teeth. “After three. One, two - three!”

With a grunt, the girl hoisted up the rock. The pressure lifted from the Selkie Child’s ankle and she was able to wiggle free.

After a few seconds, she became aware of the girl staring at her. The wide-eyed gaze put her stomach in knots. She drew her knees up to her chest, wishing she could melt into the shadows.

“So you are real!” the girl gasped.

The Selkie Child stiffened. What did that mean? She glanced towards the cave mouth. Any hope of Granny arriving to rescue her ebbed with the last glimmers of daylight. She didn’t think her ankle was broken, but it would certainly slow her down if she tried to run away. She’d always been clumsy on land.

The girl followed her gaze. “Don’t worry, they were too scared to follow me.”

The knots tightened in the Selkie Child’s stomach. Perhaps they were running to fetch their fathers, who would come with nets and clubs.

The girl’s attention whipped back. “I’m Hazel. What’s your name, if you’ve got one?”

The Selkie Child bit her lip. She did have a name, but it didn’t suit her. Besides, saying her name out loud felt like handing a knife to the talkative child.

Hazel rocked back on her heels. “I get it. Fairies don’t want to talk to humans. We’re too dull.” She glanced down at the Selkie Child’s ankle. “Can you walk?”

The Selkie Child flexed her foot. The muscles twinged but the shooting pain had gone. She wobbled upright. Hazel’s hand shot out and grabbed her slimy, wet fist. The Selkie Child flinched, but Hazel held on.

“Come on, I’ll help you out,” she said.

Together they scrambled up the rocks and over the glossy pebbles to the cave’s entrance. All the while the Selkie Child mulled over the word fairies.

Coppery dusk mantled the oncoming tide. The Selkie Child scanned the clifftop, her eyesight sharp as a pin now night had fallen. But the ridge path was empty.

Hazel seemed to sense her unease. “Are you waiting for someone?”

The Selkie Child clasped and unclasped her hands. She shouldn’t be out of the cave or talking to strangers.

“There’s an old woman that visits this cave every day,” said Hazel. “We’ve noticed her before. Is that who you’re waiting for? I doubt she’ll come in the dark. Maybe it’s best if you stay the night at mine.”

The Selkie Child hobbled back to the cave’s shadowy mouth. She set her weight firmly on her ankle to prove that she didn’t need help. Blood thudded in her ears like wave upon rock. Granny would come, and this prying girl could leave her alone! She snarled, revealing every barbed tooth in her mouth. The fur of her coat bristled like the hackles of a cornered dog.

The girl’s eyes only widened with wonder again.

“Can you grant wishes?” she asked.

Wishes? The Selkie Child’s lip uncurled. She could hold her breath for forty minutes, but she didn’t think that’s what Hazel meant.

“Nevermind,” said Hazel. But if you do deal in curses, as my friends think, I wouldn’t mind webbed hands like yours. At least that way I wouldn’t be the only one in my class wearing armbands.”

Hazel grimaced, flicking the pebble’s blue light on and off. A magic trick the Selkie Child couldn’t comprehend. Hazel looked her up and down again. Her wistful eyes held the steady wonder Granny’s did when she gazed at the sea and murmured about all the mysteries it held.

“Can I visit you again?” asked Hazel.

Slowly, the Selkie Child nodded. Hazel’s cheeks dimpled. “Brilliant! See you tomorrow!”

The Selkie Child listened to the scrape and slap of pebbles as Hazel ran off, doubtful that she’d ever see her or Granny again.

* * *

True to her word, Hazel returned the next day. She had a poke of chips with her. The paper bag she carried them in was almost translucent with oil. The Selkie Child waited patiently though her stomach squelched and groaned.

They settled on a mound of pebbles near the shore. Granny wouldn’t have allowed her to come out this far, but Hazel seemed more adventurous.

“How’s your ankle?” asked Hazel.

The Selkie Child rotated her foot. Then she wriggled and stretched her toes, till the membrane between them shone.

“Cool,” said Hazel.

She proffered the sweaty bag of chips. Unable to restrain herself, The Selkie Child snatched a chip and gulped it down in one bite, even though the heat of it seared her tongue. Greedily, she swiped another.

“The old lady who visits you is ok by the way,” said Hazel. “She had a bad fall a couple of days ago and bruised her hip. The doctors are keeping her in the hospital just now, but she’ll be out soon.” Hazel shrugged. “That’s what Dad said, anyway, and he’s got his ear to the ground.”

The Selkie Child paused mid-bite. Granny hadn’t abandoned her, then. But she was hurt. She chewed the next mouthful slowly.

“Opal,” said the Selkie Child.

“What’s that?” asked Hazel.

The Selkie Child licked the salt from her lips. Perhaps Hazel could bring her news of Granny, and let Granny know that she was safe. But first, Hazel had to know her name.

“My name.” The Selkie Child offered a shy smile. “It’s Opal.”

---

Have you ever felt afraid to be your true self?

Sometimes the vulnerability of sharing the hidden parts of our soul is so overwhelming that it feels safer to lock them away.

If we hide what we’re ashamed of and tame the wild parts into submission, then maybe we’ll avoid the judgments and criticisms that in the past left us feeling so deflated and defenseless.

Self-dominance can protect us, but I’m sure you see its pitfalls too. If we can’t acknowledge and embrace every part of ourselves, are we truly living?

The reason for these ponderings might have something to do with me reaching the final edits on Fireside Magic.

When writing I’m welded to my project as happily as a limpet to a rock. Now that it’s time to share I feel like I’ve been plucked off said rock and my soft underbelly is exposed to the world!

Is there a balance between sharing your creativity and not laying every card on the table, between embracing who you are while also protecting yourself? I don’t have an answer at the moment. Maybe a fellow writer could offer some tips or boundaries when it comes to sharing work!

Does this pre-publication vulnerability ever go away? Or do you simply ‘feel the fear and do it anyway’?

As always, thank you for reading. I feel so grateful for every kindred spirit who has subscribed to Selkie Grove already 🤍

Kate xx