Samhain Calls

It had been a year since the transformation, he reflected as he held his head above water. He pointed his wet nose up at the white moon, his cold, whiskered face basked in its sensual glow. Briny waves rippled across his dark, sealskin as he the glided onward. The gentle rocking of the water lulled him into a haunting memory of the same dark shore he swam to now. When he and his cousin cast off in a wicker and ox hide coracle onto a heaving sea.

When the boat had capsized, he was had been jerked under by a turbulent wave. He kicked and slapped the his way through the turbulent water in a desperate attempt to break through to the surface and breath. He was suffocating. He needed air. Dizzy and filled with fear, Malcolm could hardly believe his eyes when several large bull seals swam up to him. The large black creatures encircled him. But they were more than beast. Selkies. Shape shifters of the sea.

A soft hallo of light encircled each large, dark creature. At that moment, Malcolm had felt light, buoyant, full of joy.

In unison the selkies chanted, "Chosen, Chosen, Chosen"

Malcolm reflected on the startling voice in his head. "Ye are chosen as a selkie. Become one of us and live. Make the sea your home."

He had uttered, "Aye, I will."

He put aside his life as a human. Until this day, when the feasting and revelry of Samhain called to him. Tonight he would have fun as a lusty young man flirting with young maidens around hot bonfires.

As his fin touched the shore, he gazed up at the full moon and let his sprit absorb its power. He let go of his body, freed it to stretch, pull, and change. Breathing deeply, he became more and more relaxed. His human body shifted into place. A tinge of pain cut into his marrow at the final stage of transformation. He let out a deep grunt and shed the sealskin from his body. Malcolm stood on the sandy shore, with two legs rather than fins, human once more.

Malcolm reached down, clutched his sealskin, and folded it with a ritual air of awe and reverence. For if any harm came to the sacred skin, he would die. Stretching his legs, he walked across the rugged shore to a large rock dusted with sand. With more than human strength, he pushed the rock aside, scooped up the moist sand, and dug a hole with his bare hands in which he laid his skin. After sliding the rock back, he picked up a small stone with which he scratched a mark onto the boulder so he would find his way back to his most precious belonging, his only belonging: his selkie skin.

It was Samhain, and intending to have fun as any young man would, Malcolm headed toward the village. At first sight of a man approaching him, he froze. He stared at the tall man walking toward him then grinned as he recognized his cousin.

"Kenneth?" Malcolm stretched out his arms and embraced his cousin. "Greetings!"

He stepped back, and took in the changes a year had wrought in Kenneth. His cousin was a bit taller and more muscular, but in other ways he had not changed. He noticed Kenneth clutched a wad of clothes to his chest.

"Aye, as I greet ye." With his free hand he gave Malcolm a hardy pat on the back.

"It has been a long time cousin. Glad I am to see ye alive and well," Kenneth said in a jubilant tone.