Sea Foam and Silence Page 6

  But it is not love.

  I do not understand. ><

  We are alone in a coach,

  My prince, myself, my companion,

  And a couple of advisers.

  I cannot be afraid to ask any longer.

  I have to ask.

  So I do.

  Love is when people sleep together.

  This is what they tell me, my companions.

  Yet no one ever sleeps together

  In the stories or the songs.

  I see the castle animals sleeping together

  All the time,

  But this, I am told, is not love at all.

  I do not see what love has to do with sleeping.

  And my companions laugh and call me sweet

  And naive and innocent.

  My prince’s cheeks are red

  And he hides from the conversation

  Like a turtle in a shell.

  They tease him, then, about love

  And about this trip he is making.

  Does that mean he loves me,

  If he arranged the trip for me?

  I dare not ask.

  I smell the sea long before I spot it.

  I can feel the pull of the waves in my bones.

  I think, then, that I will always belong to the sea.

  How can I not when I spent all

  But this last year there?

  Will I still be able to sleep?

  I do not know. :(

  When I arrived at the castle,

  I could not.

  There was too much noise,

  Too many differences.

  It is not that the sea is ever silent,

  But it is a constant, a softness, a rhythm.

  I slept better travelling among the trees.

  There were differences, yes. Many.

  Owls still scare me, but oh I like the mice.

  I like the susurrus of leaves.

  I hate foxes with their screaming.

  Even more than owls, I hate them.

  I can never sleep when there are foxes.

  But the sea… Oh, the sea. ^_^

  How do I describe the sea?

  How can I with these words?

  It is not until I hear the sea

  That I realise how deeply I have missed it.

  I am coming home, my sisters.

  One last time.

  It is not long before we reach port

  And find ourselves on a ship.

  It is curious.

  How quickly have I shed my own words

  To think of it in another’s speech… :/

  The moving land. A ship.

  No, I think our description is better.

  It conveys the flatness, the lack of dimension.

  A ship sounds like it is some creature

  Come darting out of the dark and back.

  Like a tiny… Oh, this language is so annoying!

  It is like a fish that carries a lantern to light its way.

  Many look quite… ungainly and large.

  A ship would be tiny and elegant,

  Like a sardine darting here and there,

  The little lantern guiding its movement.

  Sometimes I find it vexing,

  The way I cannot say what I mean

  Because I do not have the words.

  But we are on the moving land now,

  And my prince is standing by my side

  As it begins its journey.

  We watch the city grow slowly smaller together.

  One more week and I will become sea foam.

  My prince squeezes my hand.

  At first I think he is trying to assure me,

  As he has often tried,

  But I can see the whiteness of his other hand,

  Gripping the edge of the moving land.

  He is frightened of the sea.

  I think, if I were not almost sea foam,

  Then I would laugh and comfort him

  And tell him that the sea

  Is nothing to be afraid of. ^_^

  I would be lying.

  I have not missed the sea’s dangers,

  The threat of being thrown against the rocks,

  Of the moving lands sinking and trapping you,

  Of the great fish that would eat my sisters and I,

  Of going down too deep, so deep your heart bursts,

  Of going too far into the cold, into the ice realms.

  We call it the endless, and we avoid it.

  The moving land will take us there. !

  We have packed furs for the journey,

  And dried and salted food.

  Perhaps my prince has the right of it.

  But I will travel farther and see more

  Than any of my sisters ever has.

  If I do not become sea foam.

  If we pass through the endless before then.

  My prince wraps an arm around my shoulders

  And rests his head against mine.

  At first I do not understand.

  Why would he do this when he never has before?

  Then I feel the sting of salt against my cheeks.

  “I don’t want to get married,”

  My prince says. Whispers.

  His face is tucked against mine,

  Cheek to salty cheek.

  We are in the captain’s cabin now.

  Our cabin, I suppose, for the voyage.

  He is still pale, but I think the walls are helping. ^_^

  I do not know what to say.

  I do not think he would see me say it. :(

  “I don’t want to… lie with anyone.”

  My hands are still in my lap.

  The nails are longer than they ever were

  When I was with my sisters.

  Perhaps they would know what I could say.

  “I will,” my prince says.

  I think perhaps he is not talking to me

  But to himself. I am only sea foam, after all.

  “But I won’t like it.”

  “Why?” I ask, lifting my hands into his vision

  So that he cannot miss the question.

  I can feel him move against me,

  But I don’t know what it means.

  Tucked against my side as he is,

  I cannot see him properly.

  My prince sighs.

  He reaches out to take one of my hands into his,

  Then he lets it fall onto my lap.

  “I forget you need them. I’m sorry.”

  I do need them.

  I pat his hand.

  He sighs again.

  “Why? Do I need a reason?

  Can I not simply dislike it?”

  I hold out my hands

  To show that I do not know.

  My prince moves then.

  He shifts to look at me.

  “You’re always so easy to talk to.

  Thank you.”

  I don’t understand what he is thanking me for. :/

  I think he notices because he laughs.

  He gets up to pour himself a drink,

  Then offers me a tankard as well.

  I shake my head.

  “You never demand anything of me,

  Except my presence.”

  He sighs again.

  “I wonder what she’ll be like,

  This princess we are sailing to meet.”

  My world shatters.

  I thought my prince went sailing for me.

  I thought we had travelled to the sea for me.

  I sit, scarce breathing, and see nothing.

  My prince does not notice.

  He is looking through the windows

  And out on the sea,

  Knuckles no doubt white once more.

  I wait.

  For what, I do not know,

  But I sit and wait,

  My hands silent in my lap,

  My eyes focused on nothing,

  My breath hitching softly in my throat.

&nbs
p; I do not understand what is happening.

  My body feels hot and tense.

  I thought –

  I thought –

  He was planning this trip already.

  Was he even going to take me with him?

  Would I have wanted to go?

  I leave. Slipper-soft I leave.

  The door clicks behind me.

  Here, on the moving land,

  I find my feet hurt less.

  I move more easily.

  No one sees me

  As I tiptoe to the darkest corners

  As I slip beside the railing,

  To where I would sit when I was still myself

  And not a tall-crab.

  I am not crying.

  That too is strange.

  It hurts. T_T

  I do not know what hurts or why.

  I hurt.

  My heart hurts.

  And yet…

  I try to picture us,

  My prince and I,

  In stories. Married.

  I cannot.

  He is like a sister to me.

  No, that is not a tall-crab view.

  A brother. A father?

  A friend, at least.

  I like friends. ^_^

  My prince is… Ever himself.

  I do not understand how tall-crabs

  Treat their still lands.

  The sea belongs to us all.

  If we do not get along, we move.

  Tall-crabs say ‘This is mine’ like food

  When food is scarce.

  I know that this is why my prince will marry.

  Though I do not understand it, this I know. ^_^

  He will do what is best for his sisters.

  I wonder what his bride will be like.

  If she lives in the endless, will she be cold?

  Perhaps she will be sunlight instead,

  Or moonlight. Or starshine.

  Will she sit with him in the gardens

  When I am become sea foam?

  I am resigned to becoming sea foam.

  I think.

  What would I do if my prince forgets me?

  That is the hurt.

  I am so startled I almost fall into the water.

  My sisters are there.

  Some of them.

  There are seven of them.

  Most of them.

  They call out to me

  And my heart aches.

  Clinging to the side of the moving land

  I cannot speak.

  They would not understand me anyway. T_T

  Oh, my sisters, I have missed you.

  Oh, my sisters, I can hardly hear you now.

  The Witch.

  The Witch.

  What has –

  The Witch.

  Yes, the Witch has –

  What have you done, my sisters?

  The moon shines on them in the night

  And I can see them, my sisters.

  They look sickly.

  Pale, dying. Lonely.

  I hear footsteps.

  Quick as a dive, I am on the moving land

  And my sisters are ducked beneath the waves.

  It is one of the men travelling with us.

  He leads me back to the cabin, to where it is safe.

  Oh, my sisters, could I but speak to you!

  I do not see my sisters all day.

  I did not expect to see them,

  But still when it is night I sneak

  To my little hiding spot and wait.

  It does not take long for them to appear.

  They look… lacklustre.

  But their voices are stronger.

  The Witch. They have seen the Witch.

  About me.

  If I could speak with words,

  I would be shocked into silence.

  I am already as still as I can be.

  I need my strength to cling to the ship.

  They know I will become sea foam.

  All of their life, little bits of it,

  Tied into a pearl for me.

  Swallow it and I will be whole

  And with my sisters once more.

  I have time.

  And I would not wish to eat a pearl.

  My nose wrinkles at the thought.

  That is disgusting.

  The little oval finds its way into my hand.

  One of my sisters joins me and gives it to me.

  I do not hug her.

  I cannot without falling.

  And hugging is a tall-crab thing.

  Swallow the pearl

  And I can join my sisters again.

  Don’t swallow it

  And I may yet become sea foam.

  In the morning, I seek out my prince.

  He is already outside, on deck,

  And has found himself a small corner

  Where he will not get in anyone’s way.

  It is not as good as my corner,

  But I suppose he would not

  Be able to sketch if he used that. ^_^

  I think he likes sketching as much

  As I like dancing. He is always doing it

  Whenever he can, just as I always sway

  To the music that is ever around me.

  I do not know what to say to him.

  How do I tell him about my sisters,

  About becoming sea foam, about being me?

  He smiles at me as I sit beside him,

  Then shifts his body around to face me.

  At first I think it is a good sign,

  Then I realise he wants to sketch me.

  He will not see me talk if he is sketching.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks,

  Charcoal stick resting on his knee.

  I shake my head.

  I cannot explain.

  His dark eyes search my face,

  They scan my hands for movement.

  I keep them carefully still.

  “This is about yesterday, isn’t it?”

  I say nothing.

  But perhaps my silence speaks more than I think.

  “I needed a pretence.”

  I cock my head to listen.

  “I cannot just run off onto the sea,

  Not on a whim, not without reason.”

  He looks away from me,

  Down at his papers, and adds a few lines.

  Neither of us speaks.

  “I like you,” my prince says.

  “You never try to make me do things I don’t want.”

  He sighs.

  I stay silent.

  “Most of my sisters loved

  Those stories. Dreamt of princes

  And adventures with them.”

  My sisters have never dreamt such things,

  Would never think to dream such things.

  “I always thought it was stupid.

  They teased me. Said I was just a boy,

  That I’d grow out of it in time.

  They say it now, while I’m a man.

  But you never do.”

  “No.” I agree. “I never do.”

  I do not tell him it is because I do not understand

  Tall-crab stories of romance and love.

  Though I like the dragons.

  They remind me of fish.

  Dry, hot, still land fish

  That move like birds.

  “I wish I could join a monastery.

  Two of my youngest sisters became nuns.”

  My prince’s hand moves and moves.

  He is caught up in his art now,

  A contented frown on his face,

  And would not see me speak

  Even if I had something to say. ^_^

  The pearl lies uncomfortably in my hand.

  My prince is asleep,

  Making noise in the darkness.

  I look down at the little oval.

  Swallow it.

  Become myself again.

  Leave my life among tall-crabs behind.


  I wish I could talk to the Witch.

  Does she come to once-sea creatures?

  I dare not go outside tonight.

  The sea is rough.

  I might drop my sisters’ gift.

  I might fall into the waves and drown.

  At least I would not become sea foam

  If I drowned.

  I sit, pearl forgotten, and stare out the window.

  The dark waves lash up at the moving land.

  I think I hear thunder.

  But there is no flash to accompany it.

  I sigh.

  I wish I had someone to talk to,

  To tell me what I am supposed to do.

  But I am alone.

  I think I am alone.

  Until I hear a rustle

  And a giggle.

  I turn.

  At first I do not see her,

  Dark as shadows,

  As night-time ocean.

  At first I do not recognise her,

  Legs not fins,

  Tall-crab not sister.

  The Witch.

  “Help,” I say.

  I do not know if she understands my hands,

  But surely she must.

  She is the Witch!

  “Have I not helped you, little sister?”

  She has, but. I do not know.

  Am I angry? Am I hurt?

  I do not understand.

  “I am afraid,” I say.

  “I don’t want to become sea foam.”

  “Perhaps you won’t.”

  Oh, but I will. I know I will.

  Unless I swallow the pearl.

  Has this all been a game to the Witch?

  A ploy to teach me not to think of tall-crabs?

  “Tell me about them,” the Witch says.

  I purse my lips. She laughs.

  “I hardly read your thoughts.

  I have no need.”

  It does not reassure me.

  “Tell me,” the Witch says again.

  Her voice is more gentle now.

  I cannot remember her saying more to me

  Than now and we foraged together!

  I sigh and look to where my prince is sleeping.

  “He will not wake until morning.”

  I do not look at the pearl

  That has fallen onto the ground,

  But the Witch picks it up, gently,

  And puts it aside.

  “Tell me,” she repeats.

  “Your sisters were very generous.”

  I sigh again and settle onto my bed.

  They were more than generous.

  Where does one start?

  When the tall-crabs pulled me from the ocean

  Everything was overwhelming.

  I hardly knew where to look,

  What to do.

  Oh, using arms and hands is easy enough.

  Looking around.

  Legs… By the time they let me stand

  I had observed enough to know

  That they moved separately

  Instead of like a single fin.

  It almost made sense.

  There are clothes and underclothes

  And people wanting to put them on me.

  People so close to me I could smell them.