She lived alone in the lighthouse by the sea. Old now, she had lived there all her life, following in the footsteps of her father in a long line of light keepers that manned the tower. The small coastal town knew her as a simple woman. She stayed isolated in her lighthouse, rarely showing her face for she had no need for weekly groceries when she subsided on her personal garden and stores. But they all knew the stories of her youth. Of her heroism when she dove into churning water to save crewman of a wrecked ship along the rocky shore one stormy summers evening. Of her independence when she turned down a courtship of a wealthy merchant captain who promised to take her away and show her the world. Of her slightly eclectic collection of sea glass and dried seaweed and pearls (though they never knew where she found them as their region was not known for pearls).
As the woman aged into her twilight years, the stories grew wilder as fewer people remained who remembered her in her youth. There were some stories that the children would tell now where she was a sea witch, banished from the ocean, so instead she practiced her magic by the shoreline during thundering nights when she was surrounded by water and rain. Some would say that she could summon sirens and merfolk to carry out her bidding, while others said that she herself was a mermaid, trapped in a human body but always longing for the sea. It was a small town, and in such towns as these, stories would grow until they seemed a truth. And really, every town needed a good mystery and legend. And what better legend than of an old woman who lived alone in a lighthouse by the sea? Of course, none knew how close they really were.
- - - - - - - -
It was evening and the stars shone overhead, bright without a moon in the sky to drown them out. It was warm enough for her to leave her shawl up at the house as she made her way to a small dock that stretched out into the water, led by the light of the tower overhead. Like most nights, she carried a small basket of cheese and fruits, which she spread out on the old wood and then she lowered herself down to dip her toes in. Singing softly, she rummaged through the basket until she found a knife to cut the cheese. The song was one from her childhood, something about light on the water and young lovers under stars and silver fish in the sea. A counterpoint harmony soon joined her and she laughed as the song reached its end and she turned towards his voice.
A man, as old as she though he didn't quite look it, was swimming easily towards her. His dark burgundy tail lazily flicked behind him as he hoisted himself up besides her, splashing water onto her nightgown. Time had always treated the merfolk better than humans, and so his hair was only streaked with silver and his broad shoulders and arms still held strength. His mouth still quirked up into that bright grin with a winking dimple at the corner and his eyes had softened with age from storm clouds into a misty gray. They crinkled at the edges as he wrapped her in a hug and drew her in for a kiss.
Their love had been forbidden of course, and their tale of love and loss was one for the ages but was now lost to living memory as all those who were there before were now gone. It was a tale of lightning and magic and love and the ocean, but a tale for another time. They were old now, and some of their strength had been lost to time, but never this. For here all that mattered was that they were together, and together they remained and their love for each other never tired as time passed around them. Though separated by sea and sky and so many other things in between, this was as constant as the waves upon the shore and the stars in the heavens. This love between them had cost them both dearly but they remained, for together, they were enough.
They met often, down here at the dock by the light of the stars with no moon. He would lift himself and his tail up and lay his head in her lap. And she would comb through the thinning strands and tell him the new stories that the children had created. And he would laugh and wonder if maybe she was spilling some of their secrets if the children spoke so accurately of merfolk and magic. She would cut up cheese and spread jam on crackers and he would feed her fruit and they would sing softly together into the darkness.
But tonight was different. She could feel it in her bones that it would be the last night that she would be making the climb down to the shore from her lighthouse. And so tonight she asked for stories of shipwrecks and storms. And he asked for stories of daring rescues at sea by the light of whale oil lamps. And when the stories were finished, he sang the song of his people. The song that brought them together and tied their love along the strings of fate. When the first fingers of dawn reached the edge of the water, he lifted himself from her lap to cradle her in his arms down into the sea. Holding her gently, weightless, he swam with her into the open water.
He carried her on the surface far from the land and the lighthouse as the stars burned away in the light of the morning. He sang lastly of their story, of how a woman of earth had fallen in love with a man of the sea. And here, she felt the years slip away until she was the bright eyed strong woman of her youth, when she had rescued a merman from fishing nets and listened to his songs under starry skies. When she had fought and won her right to love, a lifetime and an age ago. Now there was nothing but the strength of his arms and the smell of salt on the wind. She was old and she was happy and she was ready.
And so it was that the old woman passed on in the arms of the man and the sea that she loved.
This has nothing to do with The Old Man and the Sea, I just borrowed the name for my own short story. If you want dangerous fishing tales of marlins and sharks off the Gulf Stream in the Straits of Florida, then turn to Hemingway. Otherwise, enjoy!
:) Kathryn
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