The Selkie Prince

Chaibidil a Dó: Il Prionsa Selchidhe

     Marie held her breath, waiting for something, anything to show her plea had not been in vain.

     But nothing appeared.

     Faintly, she could hear Rolland's voice. The fisherwoman let out a soft half-sigh. She crouched, brushing the sand and soil off her apron and rolled back on her heels, burying her head and memories in her chest.

     Her last plea had been in vain.

     Or so she'd thought.

     The sky, formerly the color of an advanced bruise, now started to heal, turning the color of a squid's freshly squirted ink. Gradually, the waves that hurled themselves against the sand turned into self-conscious waves that lapped at shoreline.

    Then, something completely absurd happened, something that even today, is writ in legend.

     A huge lion seal waded out of the water. It's skin was charcoal, smeared and mottled with graphite undertones. It's powerful muscles rippled beneath it's gorgeous coat as it dragged itself up along the rough sand. It brayed once as it turned it's head, transfixing Marie with one soulful amber eye

     Marie gaped.

     "Are ye the cretur that's s'posed to save me?"

     "Aye. I am not just an ordinary seal that has come to your aid, Tragic Fisherwoman. For I am the Prionsa Selchidhe, the prince of the selkies."

    And with that speech, the so-called prince dove back into the water and twisted furiously, shrugging off the sealskin. The erratic movements began churning the water into a frothy, murky mess.

     After a few minutes of fierce fighting, the colliding waters slowed. And, from the swirling fluorine masses, an adolescent emerged, a sealskin draped precariously over his lanky figure. His hair hung in wet locks, framing his heart-shaped face and thin lips. He had the same wild, innocent amber eyes as before, but now shrouded by his black tresses.

     The Fisherwoman scuttled backwards, petrified of this sudden change in the physique of her rescuer.

     The man, appearing unaware of the havoc he caused, took in his surroundings, obviously disappointed with having been summoned to such a dreary, rain-sodden place.

     "Pray tell, what is this sickly place?"

     "The southside o' Cornwall messir. Prince ne'er traveled outside his kingdom 'fore?"

     He tossed his head with disdain, splattering water droplets on Marie. "No, I have not, fortunately."

     "C'mon Mister High-and-Mighty. What be yer name?"

     "Oryn Langstone. And you, Miss Tragic?"

     "Call me Marie. In honor of this bein' yer first night in the Cornish land, I'll set ye up in the finest tavern known t'man."

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Author's Note: Hello everyone!!! Or should I say, dia dhuit? ;)

I hope that you guys like this book; I am not Irish myself but I've been intrigued by this culture for positively eons. I feel that there would be no better respect I can give, but to write a book about it! 

Tell me what you guys like in it so far! I have a wide array of Irish songs if you want to take a listen. 

Comment, vote, follow!!

xoxo,
Porcini