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1:

It is a seal. At least at first. 

But then the world goes a little off kilter. Like he is looking through a kaleidoscope full of sea glass and stars, the form in his vision distorts and, as the figure comes onto land, it stands and keeps standing. Far taller than a seal could be. No, those are the long, pale, shapely legs of a woman. And the kaleidoscope shifts yet again. The seal head falls back like the hood of a cloak. A woman’s face takes its place.

2:

“This is what Rhona loved about how they played. She loved the way it turned men and women into beasts, the way their deepest carnal selves took over. The way it stripped away all the human civilization and made everyone more like the monster that lived inside them. Made everyone more like her.”

3:

“I’m afraid,” Greg starts, his voice crawling around in his chest, writhing and looking for its way out, “I’m afraid that I’ll become some kind of monster.” 

Rhona shrugs. 

“You’re already are some kind of monster. We all are. Denying it is where we get into trouble.”

4:

It is like some spell has been cast over the room. The steam rising from the mugs. The scent of chamomile and lavender in the air. The light like the gentle glow of lightning bugs. Everything seems slower here, in this moment, and yet Greg is taken by surprise at his own next words. As if he has had no time to think of something else. Something better. Something less true. 

“I need to remember who I am,” he says. 

5:

She felt the power of her body surge. Felt the realization rush through the man on top of her. He thought he had a helpless creature pinned against the ground when, all along, he’d caught a monster by the tail.

6:

Greg’s chest hurts. It aches. He forces himself to open his eyes, forces himself to breathe, forces himself to look at something real and here and present, forces himself to touch the book, to feel the paper under his fingertips, to read the words on the page.

‘Although the selkie appears to be beautiful, she is a dangerous creature and not to be trusted.’

7:

“Greg, you don’t have to be afraid and you don’t have to feel guilty.” 

“I couldn’t—” he mutters. “I could never hit a woman.” 

“Even if she wanted it? Even if she begged for it? Even if it made her feel good?” 

“It—it would make her feel good?” 

“Why else would she want it?”

Rosalind Chase is the award-winning author of Lot’s Wife: An Erotic Retelling. Finalist for the LAMBDA Award and the first Erotica Author to win Bi Writer of the Year from the Bi Writer’s Association, Rosalind writes literary stories of a romantic or erotic nature.

Her work almost always has an element of magical realism or skewed reality. From the scented halls of a textile shop in Sodom to the backroads of an enchanted Mountain town to a pocket of mythical, uncharted space, her stories feature characters on the cusp of revelation.