Siobhan and The Boy from the Sea (2.0)

Siobhan carefully descended the steep, stony footpath, the soles of her Wellington boots crunching against loose gravel. The cool breeze tugged at her black ponytail and yellow scarf, streaming them like banners. She paused by the sea, inhaling the salty air, the smell of seaweed thick, and the cries of gulls echoing in the distance. The tranquil, pale shoreline lay before her, glowing in the gentle light of the late afternoon sun. As soft waves washed the shore, a serene smile played on her lips as she gazed at the endless blue horizon. Her eyes fell upon the lighthouse across the bay; despite its weathered state, it stood proudly, with its white and maroon facade.

Eventually, Siobhan reached the small wooden jetty where her rowboat was waiting. The sturdy oak boat, “Arbroath,” bore faint carvings from her father’s hands. As her fingers traced the worn lines, she could almost feel his presence—sawdust in his hair, rolled-up sleeves, and the low whistle that had always accompanied his precise work. The years hadn’t dulled the memory; the boat still carried it like a keepsake. She untied the rusty cleat and pushed the boat into shallow water before stepping aboard and settling her boots against the cool wood. With a steady hand, she picked up the oars and began rowing

The sea stretched out ahead, glassy and serene, as the outlines of the lighthouse and the rugged cliffs blurred into the distance. As Siobhan rowed, her offbeat sea shanties rose and fell with the waves. She didn’t row far, pausing as the sunset began deepening, painting the sky in marmalade hues. With a contented sigh, she gazed at the horizon from the Arbroath’s bow. The water gently lapped around her, and for a moment, everything became serene.

SPLASH!

A spray of icy seawater slapped Siobhan’s face, snapping her out of her reverie. She blinked rapidly, gripping the oars as the Arbroath rocked beneath her. The gentle waves brushing the boat told her everything was calm—but her gut told her otherwise. Her heart pounded as she braced to row back to shore.

Then she saw it. A sleek, silvery-grey seal burst from the water, its body arching gracefully through the air. For a fleeting moment, its elegance struck her—until her eyes caught the trail of blood streaking behind it. Her chest tightened. Something was chasing it.

The waves split open as a monstrous head emerged, rows of jagged teeth snapping shut with terrifying force. A great white shark. Its lifeless black eyes glinted with single-minded hunger, locked on the seal like a dart.

“Oh, Christ,” Siobhan whispered, her breath hitching. Her knuckles whitened around the oars, but her body wouldn’t obey her mind’s frantic command to flee. Instead, she sat frozen, transfixed by the brutal spectacle unfolding before her.

The seal twisted midair, thrashing desperately as the shark surged after it. Spray exploded as the shark struck, and the seal let out a piercing cry—a raw sound that sent a shiver through her. Blood misted the waves in the fading light.

Siobhan flinched as the Arbroath rocked violently beneath her, nearly tossing her from the boat. She gripped the sides for balance, gasping as the seal surfaced one final time. Its desperate leap seemed to defy the inevitable, but the shark was faster. With horrifying precision, the predator lunged upward, jaws snapping shut around the seal with a sickening crunch.

Then, with one final splash, the sea fell quiet. The two animals disappeared under the water, leaving only ripples in their wake.

“What the feck just happened?” she whispered, her voice barely audible as her chest heaved. Her trembling hands reached for the oars as if they could steady her, but her mind spun with fragmented images—teeth, blood, the seal’s last cry. But the waves lapped gently at the boat, their calm defying the horror she’d just witnessed.

***

The sun hung low in the sky when Siobhan returned to shore. Though she had rowed out to sea many times before, the fading light tonight seemed different. The oars creaked in their locks, each movement sending jolts up her trembling arms. Every splash against the boat’s hull sounded too loud, too sharp, like a warning she couldn’t decipher. She glanced over her shoulder, her heart lurching at the empty horizon. Streaks of red and orange smeared the sky, but no amount of light could chase away the images burned into her mind: teeth, blood, and the frantic thrash of water.

The Arbroath’s gentle impact with the sand by the jetty broke Siobhan’s concentration. She grabbed her rowboat’s edge for balance, before stepping onto the damp planks. As she hauled the Arbroath nearer, the salty air filled her lungs, the hull gently scraping the sand.

Stepping off the jetty, her boots sank into the cool, wet sand. A familiar sense of grounding calmed her—until she paused.

Someone was lying on the beach.

Outstretched arms concealed their face. Oh, no... Siobhan’s breath hitched as her feet stumbled forward, the sand shifting beneath her. Her pulse roared as she dropped to her knees beside the figure.

“Hello?” she called, her voice trembling. “Are you—?” Her hands shook as they hovered over the still figure. With a steadying breath, she carefully rolled the body onto its back. It was a boy, with dark waves of hair clinging to his forehead like seaweed on a rock. Shallow, uneven breaths hitched in his chest; his skin was frigid beneath her hand. He had the physique of a swimmer, appeared to be her age, and was fit and trim, although he had a slightly noticeable paunch. With a racing heart, she lowered her eyes; blood from a deep, fresh gash on his left thigh stained his pale skin and the nearby sand.

“Oh, god…” Siobhan gasped, covering her mouth at the sight. “What happened to you?” The boy groaned weakly, his head lolling to the side. His only garment was a strange pelt, shaped like a cloak, clinging to his wet skin. Streaks of slate-gray and darker patches, like water’s shadowy ripples, mottled its faint shimmer in the fading light. She ran her fingers over the fabric; it was softer than expected—dense but smooth, possessing an almost velvety quality, like fur polished by the sea.

Who swims with only a cloak? A shiver coursed through her as she pondered. She pulled back her hand; a strange weight pressed on her chest, which she ignored. Right now, he needed help.

“Hey,” she whispered, brushing his wet hair aside. “Can you hear me? Please...” The boy only groaned again. Siobhan unwrapped her yellow scarf and secured it around the wound, her fingers fumbling as the fabric darkened. There was no other choice but to bring him home. She bent down, slipping her arm under his and hoisting him onto her shoulder.

She hadn’t expected his weight; it pulled her down, and her boots sunk into the sand. As the sky darkened, the waves calmly lapped the shore. His pale face rested against her shoulder, still and cold. She glanced toward the horizon, where the sea extended into shadow. Who is he? She couldn’t help but wonder. Where did he come from?

She steadied herself, turning back for a moment to the dark, quiet waves. Indeed, what mysteries did the sea bring to her this evening?

***

The boy’s heavy eyelids fluttered as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. His body was unusually stiff, aching from an unfamiliar stillness, but his surroundings soon became clearer. The walls came into focus—a deep, familiar blue, but too smooth and static. The air was warm and dry, a stark contrast to his familiar salty chill. He found the ground springy and soft, a stark contrast to his typical sandy bed. Despite its coldness and vastness, the sea was teeming with life; meanwhile, this small space was oppressively quiet.

He curled his fingers around the unfamiliar, lightweight blanket on his lap. Upon pulling it back, he realised that someone had treated his wound—there was a bandage wrapped tightly around his thigh. He also wore a thin grey robe, its texture soft but alien.

This wasn’t his pelt.

His chest tightened as his breath quickened. Where was it? He kicked off the blanket and flung the pillows upwards, frantically searching. Nothing. He slammed them back down again. A low, ragged sound escaped his throat—a gasp or whimper—before he froze at the sound of the door creaking open.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Siobhan said with relief, carrying a tray with two bowls. As their eyes met, she paused, mesmerised by the teal, aquatic gleam in his. His sharp expression and palpable distrust caused her to hesitate.

“Um...” She set the tray on the bedside table before pointing toward his gray pelt hanging on a hook nearby. “…if you’re looking for your cloak, it’s over here.” His fingers clenched the blanket, his eyes flicking to the pelt on the hook. He tensed, breathing shallowly and rapidly, as if expecting her next move toward it.

“It’s a lovely cloak,” Siobhan observed with a small smile. “Real fur, eh? I can see why you’d be so protective of it.” She climbed onto the bed and sat beside him before picking up a bowl, steam curling from inside.

“I was making some seafood stew—tonight, it’s haddock and mussels. You hungry?” Childlike excitement shone in the boy’s eyes, instantly dispelling the tension. He nodded with enthusiasm, a smile brightening his face. She chuckled as he scooped up the bowl and slurped it noisily, ignoring all etiquette. She balanced her own bowl in her lap as she sipped from it.

“You seem to enjoy that. Then again, I make a delicious stew,” she declared. Between hearty slurps, he grinned and nodded, captivated by her words filling the quiet room. Despite the boy’s silence, she spoke passionately of the sea, the island, and her relationship with her father.

“Oh, forgive me. I forgot to introduce myself.” With a light, sheepish laugh, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m Siobhan. And what’s your name?” The boy’s expression softened a little as he looked at her. He opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out. His brow furrowed in frustration as his lips moved, forming a silent shape. He tried again, grabbing the bowl, but only a soft whispery sigh came out.

“What’s wrong?” Siobhan asked, tilting her head. He tapped his throat, brushing it with a small, unsteady hand before letting it drop to his lap. He shook his head, shoulders slumping in quiet defeat. “Oh...” Her voice softened as her chest tightened, an ache blooming. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She reached out, her hand hovering before drawing it back.

The boy tapped the bowl’s rim until an idea struck him, and he set the bowl aside. She watched curiously as he raised his arms, his movements hesitant as he signed a letter—an “L.” His fingers paused in mid-air, trembling slightly, his eyes flicking up to gauge her reaction.

“L,” Siobhan said aloud, her voice soft but confused. He nodded, indicating that she was doing the right thing, and he pressed on. He signed an ‘A,’ followed by a ‘U.’ As she said each letter, his movements grew more confident, until he finished with an ‘N.’

“L... Lauchlan?” she asked softly. He nodded, his smile small but warm. “Lauchlan,” she repeated, her own smile brightening. “That’s a beautiful name.” As Lauchlan lay down on the pillows, his lips curved into the faintest of smiles. Lying back as well, her tone grew lighter, a playful spark now shining through. She motioned toward his empty bowl, raising an eyebrow in mock scrutiny. “Wow, that stew disappeared fast!” she said playfully. “Am I a culinary genius, or are you just being polite?”

Lauchlan turned and blinked at her, unsure if she was serious. Her exaggerated expression—complete with a raised eyebrow and mock seriousness—brought a flicker of confusion to his face. Then, slowly, the corners of his mouth quirked upward, and he exhaled, a soft and breathy sound. It wasn’t much, but it was real, as if he remembered how to laugh after who knew how long. After ages of merely surviving, this was a welcome change.

“It’s nice to cook for someone else, y’know? I’m usually here alone,” Siobhan said, her voice light as she set her empty bowl aside. “That stew was my Pa’s recipe—the world’s best! The boy nodded, his eyes briefly closed, before shooting back open. He sat up straighter, fighting off the sleepiness.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry!” Embarrassment coloured her tone. “I’ve been chattering your ear off, haven’t I?” She slid off the bed and gathered the bowls onto the tray with care. “You must be tired, so I’ll leave you to rest. Have a good night!”

Siobhan paused in the doorway, glancing back at Lauchlan, who already nestled into the blanket. A small, unexpected warmth settled in her chest as she shut the door quietly behind her. Across the hallway, she squealed with excitement as she carried the tray to the kitchen. Finally, a memorable event that would disrupt her routine!

***

As the morning sunlight warmed her freckled face, Siobhan entered the main room and stretched. Outside, the gentle waves crashed, their sound mingling with the salty sea air and something... briny? She blinked, rubbed her eyes, and gasped. On the dining table sat a pile of haddock, interspersed with scattered mussels.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” she exclaimed, stepping back. “Where did all this come from?” She turned as the door creaked open to reveal Lauchlan, soaking wet and carrying more mussels to add to the wide pile. Draped loosely over his shoulders was his gray pelt, its dappled pattern glinting as he wore it like a robe. His bandaged thigh barely slowed him down as he greeted her with a cheerful wave and a guileless smile.

“H-how?” Siobhan stammered as he signed far too fast for her to understand. She stared, baffled, until he paused, forming C-shapes with his hands and tilting them toward his mouth. “More stew?” she guessed, a small smile tugging at her lips. His eyes lit up, and he clapped his hands together with excitement, nodding eagerly. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around her in a tight, affectionate hug. “Okay, okay,” she chuckled, patting his back lightly. “I’ll make us some brunch!”

After switching into more comfortable clothes, Siobhan sat opposite Lauchlan at the dining table. She spooned and sipped her stew while he tilted his bowl to his lips, slurping loudly with every hearty gulp. Next, he sucked the mussels straight from their shells and shredded the haddock clean, leaving only the bones. When finished, he leaned forward with a contented sigh, resting his chin on the table.

Siobhan giggled, shaking her head. “Now I see why you brought back so much haddock and mussels. But how were you able to gather all this?” Lauchlan simply shrugged, and he tapped the side of his bowl once before winking playfully.

“Oh, so it’s a mystery, is it? Well, I guess it’s your little secret,” Siobhan said, raising an eyebrow. An idea suddenly sparked in her mind. “Y’know, I usually spend my afternoons rowing out to sea. Wanna join me?”

***

Siobhan grinned, gazing at the sky as she waited for the sunset. But despite the calm sea surrounding them, Lauchlan was unenthusiastic.

She adjusted her grip on the oars, stealing a glance at him. He hadn’t moved since they’d left the shore, his eyes locked on the water like a cat watching a fish in a pond. She cleared her throat, but he didn’t so much as blink. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled—something was wrong.

“What are you looking at?” she asked, her voice breaking the quiet. Concern replaced curiosity, and her grin faded. His silence prompted her to look where he was looking, and she turned pale. Just beneath the surface, a dark shadow loomed, its sleek form cutting through the water with terrifying grace.

Her heart lurched. She recognised that shape.

Before she could speak, the shadow surged upward—a great white shark, its jaws snapping as the Arbroath lurched violently. Siobhan tumbled overboard, the icy water silencing her scream. Bubbles spiraled around her as she thrashed, struggling to find the surface. Her chest burned, panic surging as the shadows of the depths closed in.

Suddenly, Lauchlan’s arms encircled her, his grip strong and sure. With a powerful kick, he drove them both upward, slicing through the waves with a force that didn’t seem human. The saltwater burned her eyes and throat, but his presence was like an anchor, steady and unyielding.

“What... what was that?” she stammered, her voice shaking as she clung to him, her chest heaving. She spotted the overturned boat and gasped. “Oh no...” Her breath caught again when he cupped her cheek, albeit with hesitation. His touch calmed her as he pressed his forehead against hers, before kissing it. Then, he released her and swam towards the Arbroath.

“Where are you going?” she called out, her voice laced with fear and worry. Lauchlan paused, locking eyes with her. Then, with a small, confident wink, he turned and swam toward the capsized boat. Upon arrival, he gripped the edge, his muscles tense with effort. Siobhan watched, unsure of his plan, as he lingered for a moment, then slipped beneath the surface without a word. The only sound was the rippling waves while she swam backward, her breaths sharp and shallow. Her eyes fixed on the Arbroath. What was he doing? She looked around her and froze when she saw what happened next.

A sleek seal burst from the water, its body arching gracefully through the air before landing with barely a ripple. Siobhan stared, her jaw slack as the light caught the creature’s shimmering, dappled hide. But her eyes widened when she spotted a bandage near one of the creature’s flippers; it was the same one she’d used on Lauchlan’s thigh.

Her stomach twisted. It can’t be… could it?

The shark burst from the water, its jaws snapping as it chased the seal through the waves. Siobhan ducked instinctively, her heart throbbing. She sensed the impact of the shark’s attack in the water, a powerful force that rocked the capsized rowboat, and cautiously lifted her head when it was safe to do so. The sea was eerily calm now, save for the soft lapping of waves and her ragged breaths. She blinked as the rowboat, now upright, bobbed gently as though nothing had happened.

Siobhan stared, her mind reeling as she swam towards the Arbroath. The seal... it flipped the Arbroath back up, she realised. But where is Lauchlan? Her eyes scanned the empty stretch of water.

“Lauchlan? Lauchlan?” she cried, her voice trembling slightly. “Where are you? Please, come back!” She pulled herself carefully onto the boat with shaking hands, her soaked clothes weighing her down as she knelt on the wooden planks. The surrounding emptiness pressed against her, vast and unyielding.

“Lauchlan!” she cried again, louder this time. But her voice echoed over the waves, and only wind and sea responded. Both Lauchlan, and the seal, were gone.

***

Though the night air turned sharp and cold, Siobhan couldn’t bring herself to row back to shore. Her soaked trench coat and beanie offered little protection against the chill. She curled into a ball and shivered, finding solace in the moonlight as it gently reflected on the waves.

She closed her eyes, surrendering to her exhaustion. But as she slept, she imagined her father’s voice gently whispering to her amidst the fog. Here, he described the people of the sea, always enchanting yet elusive.

“They can shed their skins to walk on land,” he explained. “But they can never stay for long.” Siobhan stirred, the words weaving through her mind like a delicate net. Her breath slowed, uneven, as images flickered in her mind: Lauchlan... his shimmering pelt... and his eyes, deep and teal as the sea itself. Memories intertwined—the way he devoured the haddock and mussels, his mysterious silence, the way he disappeared into the water.
“What were they called?” she whispered, her heartbeat quickening as her father’s words swirled in her mind. Then the word struck her like a crashing wave, unbidden and undeniable.

“Selkies!”

She awoke with a jolt, crying out the word as she sat up. The golden sunlight felt warm and gentle on her face, contrasting with the cold heaviness of her body. She blinked, catching her breath as she noticed faint drag marks in the sand, leading from the water to where the Arbroath now rested, much to her surprise. The familiar sight of the white-and-maroon lighthouse loomed in the distance, majestic against the morning sky.

She groaned as she sat up; her damp clothes clinging to her skin, heavy and chafing. Blinking groggily, she looked down—and froze. Sand. It buried her up to her neck, its weight pressing against her. Heart pounding, she wriggled her arms, the sand resisting her until she finally broke free.

However, Lauchlan was still missing. A sigh escaped her lips, heavy with loss, until her gaze fell on something she hadn’t noticed before. She froze; nestled in the sand lay a small pile of haddock and mussels. An unsteady laugh broke from her lips, dissolving into a quiet sob as tears blurred her vision. Chest tightening, an unsteady laugh bubbled up before breaking into a quiet sob, her shoulders shaking as tears blurred her vision.

“Lauchlan…” A bittersweet smile broke through her tears, her voice trembling. She wiped her face with her sleeve and chuckled softly. “Well,” she murmured, her words carrying into the quiet morning, “I guess we’re even now.”