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A Fish Tale

Author: Laura Sook Duncombe

“Mummy look, I found a seashell!” Micah, Helen’s thirteenth son, called to her from down the beach. She ran to him.

“Don’t touch that, my darling! What did I tell you?” She fumed, batting the shell from his hand.

“Never turn my back on the ocean. I know, but–”

“No buts,” Helen interrupted. “Now get inside. It’s nearly time for supper.” The boy reluctantly trudged towards their cottage.

Almost twenty years ago, James had brought her here. She thought the lovely spot bade good fortune. Perhaps her marriage to James had released her from her misery, her curse. Now she laughed at her youthful innocence. She often thought about leaving the cottage, but she knew it would make no difference. Her fate could not be escaped.

Her firstborn, Aiden, had slipped between the waves one day while Helen’s back was turned. Of course, his body had never been found. James and the rest of the villagers had searched for days, a search Helen refused to join. People thought she was a careless mother at best and a remorseless killer at worst, but it didn’t matter. Helen knew when the sea took a loved one, it never gave him back.

One by one, she bore James sons and one by one the sea stole them. After Fionn, James paid a village girl, Brianna, to come sit with her while James was in town. Helen did not mind the company, but it didn’t help. She kept having babies and they kept disappearing. “It’s the sea who’s taken them!” She pleaded to James, beating her fists on his broad chest, but he didn’t believe her. Nobody did. Now she was alone, except for Micah. Her last son.

“ Hello, anyone in?” Brianna called. Nobody paid her anymore, but she still stopped in each day to visit.

“Hallo Banna!” Micah whooped, throwing his arms around her. She scooped him up and kissed him.

“Hello to you, Micah! And hello, Missus.” Brianna said. She thrust a basket of still-warm rolls into Helen’s hands. “Had some extra this morning,” She offered, although both knew it was a lie.

“Thank you,” Helen murmured. Sometimes the snack from Brianna was the only thing they ate that day. The two women sat while Micah played by the window.

“He’s getting big,” Brianna commented.

“Yes, almost five now,” Helen replied. Daniel, the oldest of her boys, had been four. Helen had promised herself that if Micah made it to five, she would stop living in fear. Maybe her twelve had sated the sea.

“And you’re getting on alright? Anything I can bring you?” Brianna asked. Helen shook her head. What she needed, this village girl could not bring.

“Well, see you tomorrow, yeah? Have a good night.” Brianna wished, then left them alone. Helen sighed and began preparing a meager supper.

***

“Tell me the story, Mama,” Micah asked as he crawled into her lap after supper, washed up and ready for bed.

“Once there was a lady. Long ago, her family was cursed by a witch. Any boy born to their women would turn into a fish. This lady avoided the ocean her whole life, but she fell in love with a lobsterman and her love was so strong she believed it could end the curse… ” Helen repeated, as she did every night. Tonight, Micah’s snores interrupted her story. Her heart clenched at the sight of him, so peaceful in her lap. She would not lose him as she had the others. Things would be different this time.

She lifted the boy in her arms and laid him down on his narrow bed. The moonlight spilled in through the window, making his pale skin nearly translucent. He looked so much like James, she thought. Helen stroked his hair lovingly as she gazed at her son.

With a cry, she pulled her hand from his head, blood gleaming red on her fingertips. Helen probed Micah’s skull gently. Had he gotten glass tangled in his curls? What had cut her? Suddenly she shrieked, then fainted dead away. At the base of his skull, hidden underneath his hair, grew a row of sharp, green scales.

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About the Author

 Laura Sook Duncombe is a part-time lawyer, part-time YA novelist, and full-time Christian feminist nerd. Greek epic poetry, Sherlock Holmes, and musical theater are a few of her favorite things.