Mother Wake (Part 2)

I’m alone, and the darkness is alive. Well, not really, but it feels like it. I’ve never been anywhere this dark before. Even on a cloudy night, there are still glimpses of moonlight, and a few embers on the hearth if I’m inside. But here, the darkness is thick and heavy. I imagine it creeping into my mouth and nose, moving slow like the molasses Mum buys whenever we go to the city to sell our fish.

My heart feels like a blacksmith is striking it against an anvil. I’m trying not to scream. But then, there’s a light. Not from a lantern, but from further down the tunnel. It’s a soft bluey-green. It shifts and shimmers, reminding me of some silk I saw in a city shop-window once. Even though the smell is stronger in that direction, something about the light feels inviting. Comforting, even.

So I set down my useless lantern and head towards it, moving slow and careful with my hands along the walls.

A few dozen steps more and the tunnel widens again. I step out into a massive cave. It’s filled with piles of pearly shells, clean white bones and tarnished old jewelry. Some are small, but some piles nearly reach the ceiling. Water drips down them, making the echoing noise I heard back in the cellar. They reflect the blue-green light, making the shimmering show I saw from the tunnel.

The light itself is coming from a pool of water at the far side of the cave. It’s nearly a lake, really, and swimming in it are little squid that make the glow,. There are so many of them, it hurts my eyes to look right into the water. Pa and my brothers catch these sometimes, but they’re hard to get because they live so deep.

I guess these caves are dark enough that they’ll live in them, even higher up. I grin. The glow squid fetch a pretty price at market, and they keep their glow for almost a day after they’re dead. If I can catch some, I’ll have a light to get out of here by. Not to mention a good apology present for Mum. It’ll be much harder to make her mad if she knows we have enough glow squid down here to keep us in money for life.

But to catch some, I’ll have to reach into the water. It’s obviously part of the ocean. The smell and the squid are proof enough of that. What if Mother Wake gets me?

“Don’t be silly.” I tell myself. “She only gets you if you go out on a boat, doesn’t she? I’m just reaching a hand in.”

So I roll up my sleeves and kneel at the edge of the water. My hand makes a ripple as I sink it into the bitter cold wetness. The squid startle and scatter, but slowly, they start to come back. One even bumps against my fingers. It seems like a friendly gesture, the way Betty bumps against my legs when she wants her head scratched. I hesitate. I don’t really want to hurt these little creatures. I don’t even like helping Mum kill chickens. But if I don’t catch at least one, I’ll probably stay down here until I die.

So I close my fingers around the slippery roundness of the back of it. The squid flails, tiny beak snipping at air as I lift it from the water. I make sure to keep my fingers clear of the beak. Jamie, my oldest brother, lost half his pinky finger to a squid once when I was small. I don’t want to end up the same.

I set it far enough from the water than it can’t wriggle its way back in. I’m just reaching my hand in for another when something much bigger than a squid’s arm clamps around my wrist. I yelp and yank away, but whatever it is doesn’t let go.

That’s when I see what it is. This time I really do scream, long and loud and echoing off the cave walls. Because clamped around my wrist, pointy nails digging into my skin just enough to sting, is a human hand. Or, not quite human, which makes it worse. There are webs of skin between the fingers, and a few scales coming up through the thin pale wrist in places.

“Can you hush?” A voice asks.

It’s the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard, and even though I’m scared out of my wits, I pause to listen. My mouth shuts without my really meaning it to.

A head breaks the surface of the water. I almost scream again, but I remember what the creature just said and muffle it with my free arm. Long, dripping red hair, and a face staring back at me that looks like a mirror of mine except for the glowing green eyes and death-pale skin.

Granny always said I looked like one person in particular. So much sometimes that she didn’t want to look at me. And that person was— “Alice?” I ask in a shaky whisper.

The glowing eyes widen. “How do you know my name?’

“I’m Ellen’s granddaughter.” I answer, once my mouth can move again.

“Granddaughter? Ellen’s ten.”

I blink in surprise. “Alice, Ellen is seventy. You’ve been missing sixty years. How are you alive? Why are you young still, why are you down here?”

Great-Aunt Alice’s jaw drops. Her teeth are pointy and thin, like little bone needles. I’m past fear at this point and into pure confusion, so I manage not to scream again.

“Ellen is old? She grew up without me?”

I nod. Alice lets go of my wrist to clap her hands over her face. After a moment, she lowers them again to peek out at me.

“You’re certain?”

I nod again, feeling a bit helpless.

Alice shakes her head frantically. “That’s bad, that’s really bad. She must miss me so much!”

“She does.” I admit. “Maybe, maybe you could come back with me?”

“I’d love to, but I can’t.”

“Why not?” I ask.

Alice smiles sadly, then a glimmering, scaled tail lifts out of the water behind her. I splutter a little as water droplets spray onto my face, flung up by the wide, translucent fin on the end of it. On a closer look, Alice’s waist is connected to the tail’s other end, scales fading smoothly into skin.

“I can’t walk.” Alice says, as if that explains everything.

I wipe my face dry with my shawl and try not to stare. Somehow, my Great-Aunt has become a mermaid.

(Photo by Jonathan Diemel on Unsplash)