Aurabel Read online

  And now in the warped web of his head, textures and feelings wrap together. Scraps of his past like floating fragments twin up, but dissolve before he can make sense of them.

  And even though he wrote the words ‘I remember’, he now remembers nothing.

  When he resolves he knows his tapestry will have something to say. Then some story will be splattered across it in illustrative visions and perhaps something will make sense if it translates onto his scales.

  And that’s why he is looking forward to it.

  MERMAID AND MERMEN APPRECIATION TRIBE – aka ‘MAMAT’

  This site is dedicated to the memory of Charlotte Wood. R.I.P. We luv u babe. We wil NEVA 4GET U. U wil ALWAYZ remain a mermaid in r eyes. <3 <3

  MerBaby3000: LITRLLY BEIN SICK EVRYWHRE! OMG! K. K. K. LITRLLY PUMPED! Am so PLSD 2 announce tht Opal Zeal has askd MAMAT crew, aka ME, 2 attend the GUSH launch so we will b coverin the event so mke sure 2 fllw us 4 updates n newsfeed! We r litrlly ova the moon! Now … more importantly … WHAT 2 WEAR?

  Vampfish: OMG! WELL JELS! FML!

  FINFUN12: GUUUUUSSSS‌SSSSHHHHHING! I am going! CAN’T WAIT! Anybody else going? I’m coming all the way from France!

  TwistedTail2: ONE WORD: GUSH.

  Bellaseashella: OMG! GUSH LOOKS AMAZEBALLS!

  TwistedTail2: Allow that word ‘amazeballs’ tho.

  MermaidFanGirl_1: @MerBaby3000 GASP! PLLLLLLLLLLZZZZZZ LEMME COME W U! BEB! PLZ!

  TwistedTail2: Beggin’ it u no.

  Bellaseashella: @MerBaby3000 NOOOOOOOOO! BUT SO HAPPY U GUYZ WILL B THERE U TOTALLY DESERVE IT!

  HDDNTRSRE: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! HOW DO I GET TIX?

  SWIM2DREAM: @MerBaby3000 WOW! LUCKY!

  MYPERFECTTAIL: @MerBaby3000 @SWIM2DREAM so SO LUCKY! I WUD DO NETHING 2 GO 2 GUSH! LOOKS INSANE! DID U SEE THE PHOTOS OF THE LAZY RIVA? MY ACTUAL GOD.

  Vampfish: @MYPERFECTTAIL TOO MUCH! Looks RIDIC!

  MER-MUR: Why is @MerBaby3000 going on like ‘we’ tho actin like theres sum big company crew of you. We all no u is a 17 yr old girl from Essex sittin in yer mum’s kitchen actin like u sum big deal bizniz woman ownin’ sum empire. Pipe down love. Ur only goin 2 a water park. CHILL. Big deal. Get ova urslf.

  MerBaby3000: @MER-MUR BLOCKED!

  TwistedTail2: BITCH! SHUT YO MOUTH JEALOUS H8TR!!! GRR!

  MermaidFanGirl_1: GO BACK 2 UR WHACK FORUM @MER-MUR WIV UR 15 MISGUIDED FLLWRS. PLZ. LTRZ.

  Vampfish: Evrybdy nos ur jealous of MAMAT success cos no one cares abt ur shit forum. U only steal MAMAT updates anyway. Recycled garbage.

  SexSeaOpal: Note to self … a mermaid never loses sleep over the opinion of a prawn!

  MermaidFanGirl_1: @SexSeaOpal 2 TRU. LOLZ!

  MYPERFECTTAIL: Wonder what opal is gonna wear to GUSH. Wonder who the music act gonna be?! AGH!

  MermaidFanGirl_1: SHE IS GONNA LOOK MEGA!

  SexSeaOpal: Pray 4 weave!

  Anonymous: I am sorry to gatecrash your site. I cannot say my name for confidentiality reasons. I have been living as a ‘human’ female in Germany for the past seven years. I have two children. I have been sitting on this secret for a very long time. When the mermaid revelation came up a couple of years back I felt like I was going to burst unless I said something. So here goes …

  I was once a Selkie. If you don’t know what one is see the link here … www.underwatersecrets.org/selkie+silkie+selchie

  This is not a hoax. A lot to take in, I know.

  I am never going back to the sea because we are treated like animals. WORSE than. There is no life for us in the sea. Opal Zeal paints a very pretty picture in the media that mermaids are wonderful and beautiful and stylish and cool and all the rest of it. But please do not believe what you read. I have never met Opal but I can tell you now the Mer species are very cruel to animals and other living creatures. They are NOT saving our planet, they are DEMOLISHING it! One Mer in particular – I used to live in fear, even up here, believe me, that SIENNA ‘KEEPER OF BEASTS’ (feels so good to have finally written her name down) would hunt me down and kill me, YES, even here, but after much support and encouragement – which took some convincing – from my husband and children and close friends I am now confident enough to say it. This heinous witch claims to protect Selkies. She claims to ‘house’ us, and our babies, out of kindness. This is NOT TRUE. Sienna bribes Selkies to live on her land in exchange for protection from bigger beasts. The Selkies she keeps then have to live in tiny bunks in the worst conditions. She uses us as slaves. She beats us. She starves us. It is US who protect her but most of us are too afraid of her to see it. Luckily, I had no offspring as a Selkie, but if a Selkie has male pups the pups will be dragged away from the mother and sold off as guard dogs or hunters. It’s DISGUSTING. This is why we are a dying species – nobody wants to reproduce because the babies will be ripped from our arms or we will live a life as a prisoner to a tyrant.

  We are a rare and fragile species and Sienna dines out on that, forcing us to do despicable and unkind things. But nobody knows about it. I just want to say there are LOTS more women, trapped in the bodies of what seem to be ‘seals’ or ‘walruses’ and, even weirder, more women like me, who have escaped, now out here trying to live normal lives. Many Selkies cannot just simply give up their lives in the sea, not only because they are petrified or trapped but because they have their pups to care for. This is a desperately sad situation that has been ignored for TOO long. I am writing to your site in the hope that you share this and spread the word. WE NEED A PLATFORM!

  One final request: please can you stop promoting mermaids until you have your facts straight. They are a heartless and cruel species. And I’m not going to sit in silence any longer. IT’S TIME FOR CHANGE!

  MYPERFECTTAIL: Errrr … what the frig was that about?

  SexSeaOpal: DID I JUST REALLY READ THAT?

  MYPERFECTTAIL: Tres awks.

  SWIM2DREAM: Flip! @Anonymous who r u?

  MYPERFECTTAIL: @SWIM2DREAM if she says she’s anonymous it means she’s anonymous. FFS. DUH! READ!

  SWIM2DREAM: @MYPERFECTTAIL Calm it Kermit! I was only askin.

  WhereisLorali: Shit, so is this tru?

  SexSeaOpal: Ask @MerBaby3000

  STARTHESTARFISH: I wanna dye my hair blue, thoughts?

  MerBaby3000: Hi guys, srry, jst seen ths. Cmpltly shckd. Wot? Dunno wot 2 do.

  Vampfish: CALL THE POLICE!

  MermaidFanGirl_1: In my opinion u hve 2 help this woman, she is clearly having a mental breakdown. @MerBaby3000

  Starryfish: @MerBaby3000 u must help her immediately, it seems to be a very pressing matter that needs attending to urgently so give me your GUSH ticket and I’ll go along on your behalf. LOLS! ;)

  MermaidFanGirl_1: @Starryfish NICE TRY!

  WhereisLorali: LOOOOOOOONY!

  MerBaby3000: K, I jst googled Selkies – ‘mythical creature’ hlf woman, hlf seal fing. Shit. So this woman lives here now?

  SexSeaOpal: @Anonymous can JOG ON! HOW DARE YOU B WRITING ABOUT MERMAIDS LIKE THAT? Opal Zeal is an absolute QUEEN! WHO THE HELL EVEN ARE YOU COMING ON HERE SPEAKIM ABOUT MERMAIDS LIKE THAT? I’M GONNA SET MY DAD ON YOU.

  SexSeaOpal: Typo *SPEAKIN even. How embaz. FML.

  Sailortailor: @SexSeaOpal LOL! PREACH!

  FINFUN12: SELKIES SUCK!

  Sailortailor: Did @Anonymous not read the friggin GUIDELINES? This is a mermaid appreciation society, not a seal one, go to Sea Life mate.

  MerBaby3000: Nt guna lie tho squad, I am sooooooo gassssssed that my blog has reached Germany! How du say ’ello in German then?

  MermaidFanGirl_1: I’m having nothing to do with this and it’s not even my business but if I was u @MerBaby3000 I wud take this woman n get her 2 a therapist or something ASAP. Pretty sad story. Made me quite emosh.

  SexSeaOpal: Or just delete the comment.

  MerBaby3000: Ur rite. Ths is kinda killin my vibe rite now tbh. Deleting it now. Looks well bad 2 new coMer dunnit? Srry @Anonymous but there’s a time n a place and it rll
y ain’t now.

  THE SABRE TOWER

  In the jagged rotting tooth of the Sabre Tower I breathe. Sharpening her teeth like the jaw of a shark, Sienna is teaching her first salvaged the art of a campaign. A new young one she has housed for a while. In secret, of course. He is a smart thing, learning his way of the world in the syrupy blackness that Sienna calls home. She has named him Victor. Often Sienna, as she watches him wading about their tower, talking and learning and asking questions, thinks of him as more than a son … more than a young man … Sometimes he is too beautiful to be a son … sometimes, in the dead of night, she thinks about other ways they could become closer, other ways she can reach him, taste him … and new ways that he could reach her? Taste her. She doesn’t have to resolve him as her son; could she resolve him as her mate? After all, there is a shortage of the things. Or perhaps that is forbidden. Or perhaps that’s why she is so grotesquely hungry for him.Because it is frowned upon …

  One doesn’t tessellate with one’s salvaged. That’s pretty much the only rule of Mer tessellation.

  But maybe if she could have him, just once, she wouldn’t want him quite so much. If ever she puts the idea to bed she only needs to be reminded by the architecture of his body: naked shoulders, strong back, spine. The idea stirs inside her, obsessing over his size and shape and hands and neck and chest.

  All those discoveries would be decorated onto him. And all those messages. All those painted scars and all that history. Maybe he doesn’t even need to be resolved at all. He doesn’t need a tapestry. His body says it all.

  Anyway. She could be queen soon … Then, in her own words, she can do what the hell she wants.

  The Selkies flump in the entrance. Fat fucks. She likes them so much better like this. When they are not beautiful and threatening but wobbling. Blubbering. Oversized hefty morsels.

  ‘Well?’ Sienna spits. ‘Did you do well?’

  The Selkie in question has a flipper that has been snagged by a fish hook. You might know her from the land as a beautiful woman with a scarred hand. She flops to the ground in relief, but solemnly heavy; her heart sinks for what she has done.

  ‘Do not look so sad, Selkie. You’ve done your job, you will be rewarded handsomely, and you and your little pups will continue to be protected in return.’ Sienna pats the head of the Selkie; the others look on, trembling, all feeling the imprisoning weight of oppression. ‘Perhaps your pups will eat tonight.’ Sienna weaves between them menacingly. What a fine villain this Mer is becoming.

  The Selkie in question begins to weep. Sienna tries to tickle their chins but her tickle comes in the form of a spiky scratch. ‘Poor, poor things. Must be hard to be so beautiful and charming on land …’ Sienna inspects her claws. ‘Then ugly, fat, mute and useless down here. What brutal punishment for all the lies you spin on land. Such a shame,’ she snarls sarcastically. ‘But know that luckily you’ve finally come to some good. When Princess Lorali dares return, yes, when she’s bobbing on the head of the sea, when her chunky Walker legs sink her down to fish food, when her clothes become rags, when her bulky bones clunk like an anchor, yes … when she’s dead. HA! Devastating news like that will shake the palace gates. News like that will crack Zar’s composure and boot that sad whelk off the stand once and for all, and I will be queen!’

  And she cackles demonically up into the green waves, like the terrible fairy story witch that she seems to have become.

  And I know all of this sounds very pantomime, but that’s the wonderful thing about narrating a fairy story like this. You can be as dramatic as you like. And I am the sea, after all. I love a bit of drama.

  ONLY THE END

  Humans are funny creatures. Funny things who sit cross-legged on floors when there are empty chairs around. Funny things who don’t say what they mean. Who would rather struggle than ask for help. Who eat hot chips even when they know they will burn the mouth. Funny things who smoke poison. Who don’t help themselves. Who run even when they are not being chased. Humans listen to music in their ears through little buds on wires and they don’t sing along. They don’t dance. OR nod their heads. Humans copy each other. With clothes. With taste. With ideas. Humans pick up the poos of dogs with little bags.

  Humans think everybody is lying to them. The ones who are lying are the ones the humans give their money too. Humans forget there is choice. Even though they have too much of it. Humans get flustered. And don’t speak. And don’t listen. Humans stare at the phones and miss the sun. The stars. A smile … maybe even their children putting out a small hand to them. Some humans don’t even share but stare. Instead. Humans would rather write it down than say it out loud. They cry in films when people are acting. And they know they are acting. They get angry for people who are not them. They get scared of things that are not real. Nervous of things that have not yet even happened and probably will not. Humans forget to laugh sometimes, forget to listen, watch, be patient, be kind, be curious, eat when they are hungry, drink when they are thirsty, explore. They have forgotten what this is all for. Humans are funny creatures.

  We eat at the lighthouse. Cheryl comes too. Crusty white bread and salty butter. Brown stew with carrots and heaps of tea and red wine. Creamy mashed potatoes and orange swede. I eat and eat even though I am not hungry. I want to weigh myself down. Heavy with wine. I watch the people I love laughing and talking. Iris plays his records. We have blueberry loaf with cream cheese frosting for afters. Flynn’s cheeks are red from the heat of the oven. Iris forces me to dance with him. I feel like I am dancing with a god. He spins me around and around until I’m dizzy, thinking of what I’m losing, what I’ve lost. I want to cry in the closing drunken stupidity of it all. How foolish I was to think I could make this work for me.

  I want to tell them all that I’m going. And I don’t want to. I want to tell them that I love them. That I might return with Rory but I don’t want to get their hopes up. So I can’t. I don’t say a word. Eyes closed. I fill every gap in the air with the sound of laughter.

  Cheryl sings. She is tipsy. I smell her perfume-rich music notes in the air and I run through the scented mist, letting the rich, wet, floral dots of her rain down on me. Cheryl dances with Iris. They hold each other. Tight. Just as a replacement. They are thinking of other people. I think about how weird I am that this is how I spend my last night. How different I am from other girls my age who would rather be getting drunk in a club somewhere. I don’t want to change. Flynn and I wash up together. Red knuckles in clouds of fairy liquid. Dishes squeak. I’m drying up. And then I dive my hands into the water. Right up with his. And squeeze his fingers so tight.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he laughs.

  ‘I just wanted to hold your hands.’ My voice is slow and breaking but embarrassed.

  ‘Weird girl.’ He carries on scrubbing. ‘You’re drunk, silly.’

  I remove my hands and then he quickly dries his on his T-shirt but it isn’t a long enough dry to make his hands actually dry and then he gathers me up and squeezes me hard into a hug. Tight. His wet handprints leave palm-shaped scars on my back and dress. And I let tears fall. And it’s almost as though he knows what I’m going to do that night. And he’s OK with it. And even if he doesn’t know, then that’s what I’m going to pretend to myself. That he knows. And that he’s OK with it.

  Fully clothed, to make me feel safer. The sleeping grey sea. The water is slashing me numb already. The ice crowds me. Iris’s ocean eyes. The water tickles my skin like ghostly spiders climbing my limbs. I hear the voice of the sea in shushes. Go. Don’t go. Walk. Don’t walk. Deeper. COME. Deeper.

  I selfishly grip to my life. Arms out to the sides, like a tightrope walker. White moon. The bright, drunken twinkles of the fading beach I’m leaving behind. Human shouts. Wonderful world, don’t go. I walk in until the pebbles that scratch my soles turn to sand. Relief. Shivers. Hairs on end. Nipples. Shock shooting up. Wired. Electric. Beating. Throb.

  And my clothes soak. My skirt billows. Out like a parachute
and then the water dampens it. Chasing the drench. Darkening the colour. Hair starts to get wet. Salty. In my eyes. Heavy from the food and alcohol but that weight seems to have worn. Too cold. Too scared. Too sad. Rory. The water begins to push me back. But I’m up to my throat. The hands of the waves rummage. Spikes crystallise … salty ice fingers strangle and lick. Bruising me with depth and danger. Heart – smash. Smash. Body light. Start swimming. Am I? Can I? Mouth. Salt. Sting. Eyes. Ocean on ocean and its many layers. As weightless as a polystyrene coffee cup thrown off the pier. Dissolving like a tablet on the tongue of a giant.

  Hello, old friend. Hello, little Lorali. Yes, I think I can remember you, child. You don’t know me any more … but I know you well.

  I’ve been waiting for you.

  WELCOME HOME

  Of course we knew Lorali would drown. And she did.