The Fish Wife

Keenan O’Connor fished the waters off the coast of Ireland since he was a young boy.  Accompanied by the familiar sputter the old engine and the smell of diesel fuel, Keenan steered his boat out to sea.  The weather was turning colder and the seas choppier, marking the start of winter and then end of the fishing season.  Keenan needed to bring in a few good hauls to last him until spring time.

He dragged out his nets, dropping them into the turbulent waters and waited.  Passing the time, he munched on his breakfast of hard biscuits and dried fish.  When the appropriate time passed, he began the laborious process of hauling the nets back onto the boat.

The nets were heavy and Keenan’s anticipation grew with the hope of a large bounty.  To his surprise, the nets were mostly devoid of fish, but something large was entangled in its folds.  With a final heave, the last of the nets were bought onto the boat and to his shock, there laid a woman.

She was unclothed and her skin bore the slightest hint of green.  Her hair was sea-foam green, cascading down to her shoulders like the waves that crash over the rocks that line the broken shores of his country.  Breath escaped him as he stared at the wild beauty.

Keenan remembered all of the legends his father told him as a boy, but none captivated him more than the story of the moruahd, as they were known in the old tongue.  Tentatively, he moved closer and took her hand in his, feeling the soft webbing that ran between her fingers.  This surely was a merrow.

The touch roused her from her stupor and she gazed at Keenan with uncertainty.  Her eyes were like the depths of the oceans and for the first time in his life, Keenan O’Connor knew love.  A look of great concern came upon the maiden as she desperately looked about her.  Keenan remembered the legend well and he was saddened by his sudden realization.  The merrow had lost her cloak and as such could not return to the sea.  Keenan wrapped an old blanket around her and comforted her as the maiden of the sea sobbed.

The winter months passed and on the first sign of spring, Keenan returned to his fishing.  The merrow had been a loving companion but her sadness and longing for the seas she could not return to brought with it a great sorrow that was as broad as the oceans.

Keenan watched as the merrow stared at the sea from the aft of his boat, eyes lifeless and without joy.  He loved this creature with all of his soul.  No longer able to bear the pain, he scuttled the boat.  The black tides of the ocean engulfed the craft as the two lovers embraced; neither fearing their watery fate as they would become one with the sea.