Asyia Gover Poetry & Prose

When I was younger, I hated my Sealskin. I hated the clumsy fins that came with wearing it, hated the fog it cast over my mind. I hated my hatred for it because it was still a body part that I would rather not have lost. Mostly, I hated that I was born with a Sealskin at all. If my father was away, I would come ashore and eavesdrop on the goings-on of the humans atop the cliff. How noble I thought they were, and how prudent! They built spectacular dwellings and manipulated the land to grow things which were both useful and beautiful! They could use their hands whenever they pleased! They could feel the sun’s nurturing light at any time during the day, from any location! They cultivated their own food and never needed to hunt or forage! I was well aware of the abilities their bodies lacked, but to me it seemed like a worthwhile sacrifice for what the humans had achieved.

When I was younger, I loved to dance. Under the impenetrable night I would press my nose against the Manor windows and watch the humans twirl and frolic in their gilded vestments. Clothes! That is another thing I so admired. I couldn’t quite hear their music, nor did I have one of their quaint instruments, so I sang my own songs and twirled along, my hair fanning out behind me like the shipwrecked remains of a silver dress. If my father was near, I sang and danced instead on Seal Rock: “Far away from those cunning thieves,” he would say, “but still no place for a princess.”

Yes, I was a princess, which I’m sure you were never told in my daughter’s story. My elder sister was the heiress, a position I never envied in the slightest. Day and night she was under our father’s fin, always training for this or that or learning our customs and traditions. By now I imagine she is an expert on our society, a perfectly-behaved lady, and our father is clinging to life, still shouting orders through the inky black sea.

It did not do well, as you can imagine, for a princess to amuse herself with the affairs of humans. And before you ask, yes, I have heard the tale of the merrow who loses her life chasing a human prince, and no, it was nothing like that. It was nothing but a young woman’s weariness and curiosity that tempted her to explore.

First I explored the wider sea, from serene blue bays, to gray thrashing tributaries, to the dusky depths so far down the pressure nearly burst my ears. Then I explored the surface with its soaring birds, towering trees, scampering legged creatures, and my favorite, the fickle rain. Rain! What a miracle I saw in rain! Who among us could have imagined such a mixture, part air and part water, had we not seen it ourselves?

Yes, I was so intrigued with the surface world, but I knew I couldn’t learn everything about it on my own. If I had sufficient time to myself, I would go to the area they called The Mainland, bury my Sealskin on the beach, steal a set of clothes, bind my hair, and wander about, pretending to be a shy customer at the market, or the visiting daughter of a foreign businessman, or an escaped slave from a distant land. Playing a foreigner suited me best, as we Sealfolk can only speak in our human forms, so most of us are quite unpracticed at it. I would spend hours letting old matrons fuss over me and teach me words. Clothes, farm, and house, for example, I would never have figured out myself. By watching them teach their sons, I learned how to read and write.

When I think of the whole ordeal that I brought about, I think the knowledge of written language was worth all of it. I used to muse (later, at Marblehaugh Park, I would only think resentfully of it) about this skill that set humans apart from the other intelligent animals—from us, even, who were configured more or less the same way and with the same capabilities. Was this the ability that allowed them to dominate their portion of the world? If they could build ships to cross the sea, why could we not build ships to cross the air? Was it because of our ineptitude at language? I dared not share my adventures with any of my companions, for fear that my father would hear of it and punish me. Besides, although I had friends who were curious about the surface, no one was as intensely interested as I was. I felt as alone and strange in my own realm as I did among the humans.

Curious or not, we all did love to dance. A favorite evening activity for young Sealfolk is a festival of music and dance, which we held at Seal Rock. One group encircles the base of the rock and sings together; the other group throws their Sealskins in a heap and dances like tendrils of seaweed caught in the waves. My father thought it acceptable, though still improper, for me to dance with companions; if I danced alone he would begin to worry. Unfortunately for him, I had an appetite for dance that persisted long after my friends were sated, and I would remain on Seal Rock, inventing my own songs in the poetic style I heard so often at the Manor. 

Just as the merrow’s father’s warnings proved true, so did my father’s, as I’m sure you know. I was taken on the ultimate expedition to Marblehaugh Park, to learn about the intricacies of human society. Here is what I know about human society:

• Sufficiently important humans take whatever they desire, offering nothing in return
• Human women fight endlessly against their bodies, to fit into dresses, and their hair, to stay in knots atop their heads.
• Humans look upon all the Otherfolk with a mixture of awe, fear, and a violent need to control
• Humans look upon most things with a violent need to control
• Much of human societal structure concerns a hierarchy of rich fathers and rich sons, communities that live in perpetual servitude to them, and communities that serve themselves and think nothing of the rich men.

For this knowledge, I paid the ultimate price. I never saw my father, my sisters, my brother, or my friends again. I never saw my Sealskin again; I never knew whether it even still existed; at any rate, Lord Merton was not stupid enough to keep it in plain sight while I lived. I could never return fully to my home, and I dared not enter the sea and face my father without a Sealskin. My ancestral gifts, my culture and my way of life, remained in the sea and could never be retrieved.

During this time I only felt wronged. I was wronged by the humans, not only by Lord Merton but by his faithful servants who condoned his actions and could do nothing to ease my suffering. And oh, how I suffered! The sea became as a great churning mouth, the mysterious rain as a barrage of knives. Even in the Caverns, where I could truly be myself, there was nothing but my sorrowful songs and the pained shrieks of the Folk. 

Perhaps the most sorrowful thing about it all was Corinna’s birth. My guilt and dread had almost consumed me during the pregnancy, but when it was time for her to arrive, I felt that my demons were regurgitating me and preparing to devour me again. Everything I had lost, she had lost as well. She would never have or even know her birthright, her place in our family. She would never dance on Seal Rock with her friends. She would never learn to recognize all the fish and the creeping plants in this small bowl of sea. She would never have the briefest experience of the world that was so familiar to me that I sought to depart from it. Would she ever be allowed to know what she is? Would her Sealskin be taken from her as well? Would she even inherit anything, or would the Lord try for a son? Would my father have wanted to meet her?

It was too much to consider. I held Corinna in my arms, the blood smeared on her translucent skin nearly indistinguishable from the blood running under it. Her eyes were just like mine: proof that she was my girl. Yes, I thought, she is more mine than she is theirs. My eyes rested on her Sealskin, no bigger than a bonnet, which the midwife had immediately peeled off in poorly-concealed disgust.

Yes, I thought, and I am not theirs either. I thought of my mother’s lullabies, of clinging to her soft fur and feeling the sea caress me as she moved. I fell asleep and did not awaken.

I think you know the rest of the story. They commemorated me rather well, for a creature who never ought to have belonged to them. Corinna found her way back to me, although I was unable to welcome her. I was here the whole time, watching, just praying that my daughter would have a better life than me. I was watching as she put the right ending on the story that I started. After she threw her ruined Sealskin to the waves, she cast mine in as well. I don’t hate my Sealskin so much anymore.