Prompts for this week from Jessi over at The Artful Author Neither she or I, own these images in any way. Click on them to make them bigger.

I enjoyed writing this post, letting me subvert and experiment with Scottish lore. I also experimented with not using names. It’s a very pleasing story.

“How will I know who my true Love will be?” Asked the boy. He sat on the sea cliffs, the wind playing with his salt stiff hair. His father sat beside him, letting the seas spray hit his bronzed skin.

“You’ll know when you see her, son. But you mustn’t get too attached.”

“Doesn’t that defeat the point of true love?” Asked the boy confused. His father laughed.

“You’ll understand in time, son. Come, we’ve had enough of the air today.” He dove into the water. The boy followed him.

***

My Mother says my father came from the sea. I can still see him dimly in my mind’s eye. Tall, dark-haired with glimmering bright blue eyes. I can see a bright smile and a freckled nose. I was fifteen when she told me the story of how they met.

***

My mother lived near the sea he whole life. The waves were as familiar to her as dry land. She danced in the sand under the stars and spent hours reading on the cliffs. Her mother died when she was seventeen, and my mother’s ways became unruly. She had always been a wild girl, uncontrollable as the sea, but now her moods shifted with the tide. My grandfather had enough of her behavior and forbade her going down to the sea. She was to stay home and learn to be a lady and to settle down and marry well.

Mother’s heart ached for her ocean, wishing to be washed by the waves and kissed by the sun. Instead, she was forced to sit up straight, wear dresses, use table manners and learn how to use a needle and thread. Her only consolation was the piano where she could sit and play and watch the sea.

She played for hours, letting the sound drift over the air and to the water. She learned to behave and to be civil, and her father allowed her to walk along the sea once more. She walked for hours along the shore, the sand between her toes. One day, she found a bouquet of sea scrub flowers on her doorstep. She placed them on her piano.

One day in the middle of summer, she was walking to the cliffs, book in hand, when she saw a young man standing on the edge of the rocks, looking out at the waves. He was wearing nothing but his trousers and a sealskin cloak. He turned when he heard her approach, he dove into the water and disappeared. This was not the last time she saw him.

She saw him again, saving a bird that had gotten stuck in the sand. He released it and watched it fly away.

“Hello there,” mother said. He spun around and blushed.

“Hello.”

“I’ve seen you before on the cliffs.”

He nodded.

“Why did you run away?” mother asked.

“I was startled by you.” He said softly.

“Me? I wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“No, no, you misunderstand.” He dug his toes into the sand. “You are the most beautiful woman I have seen in my life.”

Mother blushed, her words stolen from her.

“I have embarrassed you,” he said. “I must go.” He turned to walk into the sea.

“Before you go, what is your name?” She asked. He didn’t answer and dove into the water.

***

She returned home, puzzled by the man. She walked through the door and was summoned by her father.

“My dear,” he said as she entered his study. “You’ve been given much leniency over the last year. I’ve let you have your way, provided you behave. But it’s time for this to end. I have accepted a proposal of marriage for you.”

Mother dropped into a chair.

“He’s a rich gentleman from town. I think the match will be a good one.”

“I haven’t even met him, father. How will I know if I love him?”

“What has love got to do with it? You must learn to love him.”

My mother ran out of the room and down to the cliffs. She stood on the edge and wept into the sea. A hand was laid on her shoulder.

“I hope you are not crying because of me.” Said a voice. Mother turned it was the young man.

“Oh, no,” she said, wiping her eyes on her sleeves. “My father has promised me to marry a man I have never met. I am scared I will not love him.”

“Is true love what you are after?” He asked.

Mother thought for a moment then said, “I suppose. But it’s got to be awfully rare.”

Grandfather began to search the beach for mother, calling out her name. The young man left her, and mother went back into her father’s house.

***

The man she was to marry was much older than her, and a very greasy man. He hated the sea and promised her he would take her away from such an awful place. She could do nothing but sit numbly and let preparations commence for her wedding.

On the day of the wedding, she approached the aisle. Her would-be husband turned and looked at her, a smirk across his face. Not a trace of love or even pretense at love in his expression. The music stopped as she ran away. She ran through the town, down the dirt path to the sea. She intended to cast herself off the cliff but stopped short on the sand.

A seal inched its way to the shore. She waded through the waves to get a better look. It swam up to her and let her stroke its head. A wave crashed over it and the seal was replaced by the young man. He held a sealskin cloak.

“I offer you what is mine to give. I have watched you love the sea. I hope you will love it with me.”

She took the skin and they left grandfather’s house and moved to another shore where they could love the ocean and each other in peace.

***

Mother says father came from the sea. And when he died, she returned him to the waves. I sit to write this on the rock cliffs, my father’s skin around my shoulders. I will love the sea. 

Here are my prompts for Jess! You can click them to make them bigger. Images found on Pinterest, I do not own them in any way.

If you want to participate, link your story in the comments below! I may link to it in a future story!