
Heavy are the clothes around Sybil, their long hair twisting and flowing like seaweed as if unaffected by the forces that hold us firmly planted to the ground. Water has the uncanny effect of mimicking the cosmos above, it robs us of stability, of direction, of dimension, breath, warmth and once you descend deep enough - sight. Sybil saw little. They were deep down indeed.
The feeling of cold is steadily replaced by a creeping, eerie warmth. all encompassing, beckoning, luring Sybil into a sense of belonging, like they could - and should - remain wrapped in the infinite embrace of this realm beneath crashing waves and harsh, stinging sunlight. Forever doesn’t seem so bad down here, once you hear the call from below and soon enough feel the ever-tightening grasp of inky black tendrils around your throat.
Sybil’s eyes shot open, suddenly roused from this twisted enchantment by the feeling of gnarled and aged fingers twisting into the collar of their now thoroughly drowned shirt and heaving them upwards to burst through the membrane separating the child from the only world they have thus-far known. Once again blinded by the light above and thankfully spared the harsh bite of a wind threatening to chill Sybil to the bone aided by the introduction of a heavy blanket around them. Accompanied by the scolding tones of Sybil’s adoptive parent and guardian - Anlorgog.
“Gods’ abound child! How many times must I tell you not to give in to over-eagerness when a catch takes the bait? Damn near tipped our haul right back in to the sea along with yourself!”
Anlorgog tried mightily to mask the mixture of concern, relief and fear with biting words and a harsh expression, letting out a deep huff as they surveyed the gently rolling bay from within their fishing boat. Ultimately the misplaced frustration faded and they turned back to their young apprentice, reaching out for another warm blanket and aiding in the drying of Sybil’s hair.
“You are alright, child?” Anlorgog asks pointedly. “You did little to try and reach the surface yourself. It was concerning.”
Softly, Sybil answers, “I had meant to reach the surface, but, I suppose something must have happened. I was dreaming - I think - It felt strange.”
Glancing at the water’s surface to the murky depths beneath their boat, Anlorgog wrinkles their nose and a sudden flutter reaches the edges of the fins which stretch the length of their forearms.
“Surely just the shock of the impact and sudden cold. We best be headed back home before your bones freeze and shatter.”
The undine stored their gear, gathered the old fisher’s young charge into a bundle of blankets, and rowed with some haste back to the docks of Osprey’s Cove. Never before so thankful to be planted firmly on solid ground.
📷Pentax SP1000 - Super-Takumar 35mm f/3.5
🎞️Ilford HP5 - Scanned on Plustek 8100