Adult Fairytale Competition 2018 - Winner

I was fifteen when the voices started.
At first, I had a shushing in my head, like a radio station that’s gone off frequency.
The more I tuned in, sounds akin to voices dominated the sound-space. And though I could not fathom words, nor did they call me by name, somehow, I was sure they were calling to me.
These unusual visitors were most active at night, and often what followed was a recurring dream I’d had since childhood. From the high-rise concrete box I called home, on the outskirts of Glasgow, I would dream of the moonlit sea.
Beneath the star dusted sky, the watery darkness ripples with silver; the moon like a perfect hole in the sky to somewhere else. As I drink in the vastness of the ocean, some primitive force stirs from beyond the horizon, pulling me into the water. I resist and struggle, but I am no match for it, as it pulls me under. My body is heavy, then weightless, as it is dragged down into the smothering blackness. I am sinking deeper and deeper into the watery tomb...
Suddenly, I awake as if I have crashed to the ground, gasping and shivering as the sweat dries on my face and chest.
The nightmare never changed, nor did the wonder leave me as to its vivid realism, for I had never been to the sea in waking hours, in all my years.

* * * * *
I awoke from that persistent dream, clammy and frayed. As I entered the kitchen, the smell of frying batter turned my stomach.
‘Good mornin’, Erin. Happy Birthday!’
‘Thanks.’ I observed my dad’s eyes, bloodshot, as usual.
‘Are ye alright, darlin’, ye look tired?’
‘I had the nightmare again.’
My dad looked away and attacked the contents of the frying pan with a spatula.
‘You should have grown out of these night terrors by now, Erin.’ He half coughed, half grumbled; it was something, at least, to fill the uncomfortable space between us.
‘Sweet sixteen eh! These’ll boost ye.’ My dad turned, his balding head shining. His hand shook as he handed me a plate of pancakes.
I twisted the ends of my waist-length black hair. The voices, that had become like the friends I so craved, rallied their support.
‘You don’t look so great either,’ I said. ‘On the whiskey again last night were you?’
‘Never you mind, lassie, that’s mah business.’
‘I don’t want you to do it.’
‘Well, I don’t want you to talk to yourself and rock to whatever madness is going on in your head.’ My dad threw the spatula at the wall.
‘Don’t make this about me as usual,’ I retorted, tears threatening.
‘Just stop, Erin.’ My dad’s voice softened. He anchored his hands on his hips and looked at me with his crooked smile. ‘Let’s not ruin yer special day, hey?’
‘But it’s okay to ruin our lives… for what? Whiskey?’
‘I told you not to talk about that. I’m warning you.’
‘Like I’m not to talk about my mum either? I bet you drove her away—’
His fist crashed the table.
‘You have no idea what you’re talking about, Erin. Your mother left you. Only one year’s old you were. It’s been me who’s raised ye since yer mother disappeared. I thought I was done with all that madness with voices when she left.’
‘You probably drove her mad with your drinking and being possessive.’
‘I’M JUST TRYIN’ TO PROTECT YE.’
‘FROM WHAT? LIVIN’?’
‘From yerself. Yer vulnerable, ye know that.’
He always knew how to knock me, leaving me feeling incapable, indebted.
‘This is a prison, not a home,’ I yelled, my rebellion taking me aback. My words crumpled his chest. He punched out air, the fight leaving him.
‘Ye obviously don’t want to spend today with me, so I’m off out.’ My dad didn’t move. He pinned me with his eyes; eyes that spoke of many things hidden in their blue depths.
Tears stung my cheeks as I stared back at my dad. He had taken care of me, and my mother had left. I looked at him, as if through a gun-sight, and saw a wounded animal who knows its time is up. My heart ached then. The anger began to dissipate, as it always did.
But then he bolted for the door, and the trigger went off.
‘That’s it, go and get drunk,’ I hurled at his back as he walked away. My jailer left, locking the front door behind him, as he always did.
The voices screamed like banshees. ‘You don’t belong here,’ they said over and over. I pressed my hands to my ears trying to stop the throbbing insides my ears. But nothing could stop the torrent of tears. I plugged my ears with music – the loudest death metal I could find. It was the only way to block the noise and confusion in my head.
That night, I went to bed wondering what time my dad would return. What if my dad had abandoned me this time? I cried and cried, wrestling my brain from over-thinking, and into fits of sleep.
Some hours later, out of the darkness, a silent shadow ripped back the duvet and dragged me from my bed. No sound, just laboured, whiskey breath.
‘Dad, what are you doing?’
In the painful hallway light, his tall frame stooped, eyes rimmed red, with dark centres, like an ogre from a Grimm’s fairy tale.
‘Put this on,’ he said with a growl, as he shoved a coat at me. It wasn’t mine. The hooded coat was almost full length. My fingers glided over the fibres, such furry softness. He took it from me and forced my right arm into it, his fingers digging into my bicep.
‘Ow!’
‘Well, put it on then. Make sure you zip it up.’
As soon as it was done up, he dragged me by the hood out of the bedroom and into the corridor, my socked-feet sliding.
‘What are you doing, dad? You’re scaring me.’
He snarled almost, and yanked the front door open, pushing me out onto the landing. The bitter wind almost took my breath away, and I was glad he had made me wear the coat. The concrete was like ice under my thin socks. He wrestled me down the landing.
‘Dad. Stop! Stop pushing me! Leave me alone!’
I screamed, even though I knew no-one would come. Not on this estate. Just rat-eyes blinking behind net curtains. Fear gripped my throat as we made our way down the eight flights of stairs. My heart hammered in my chest, and it hurt. Where was he taking me? Maybe he’d had enough this time. Maybe he was going to leave me somewhere.
He marched me over to our old, battered estate car, shoved me in the back and buckled me up as he had done when I was a child. We drove for what seemed like hours, the starbursts of headlights flashing my dad’s grimaced face on and off in the rear view mirror.
The silence in the car pressed down on us, but inside my head, the voices whispered over and over to me. I rocked with it and held my ears. Then my dad turned the radio on and cranked the volume up. But not even that helped soothe my head. I put the hood up and tried to bury myself as far inside it as possible. I continued to rock backwards and forwards to the limits of the seatbelt, until we stopped.
It was the sound that hit me first, a shushing that was wild and ferocious, and air that tasted of moist salt. The wind whipped my hair against my face, as my dad dragged me down a path, flanked on the left side by a high-rise of dark, jagged rocks. Then I fell, as the ground beneath me turned soft and uneven.
When I first saw the moonlit sea, the sight of it startled me to stillness, the sheer vastness of it. But it was its voice which scared me beyond my nightmare: urgent, rough and unforgiving, as it crashed against the rocks. My dad grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the shoreline.
‘No, dad, don’t.’ I dug my heels into the sand trying to anchor myself. He pulled me harder, dislodging my footing, and dragged me further.
‘What are you doing?’
He turned then, his face wet with tears, his hair wild. ‘We can’t live like this, Erin. I can’t take it anymore.’
‘I promise I’ll be good, dad. I’ll do anything you want.’
‘It’s no good, Erin. I’ve tried for so long.’
My dad hauled me into the moon’s brilliant, watery path. I fought him and the swell of water with all my strength. I screamed and yelled for him to stop. But I was no match for him and there was no-one to hear my water-choked cries. He pulled me deeper and deeper, until I could no longer stand. Waves rose and crashed over me, like his rage.
But moments later, he shouted: ‘I love you, Erin,’… and then, he let me go.
I couldn’t swim. I screamed as the darkness swallowed me. The water rushed into my clothes, dragging me down. And then I was under. Down and down I went, losing sense of time and orientation.
But then the coat tightened around me like a new skin and I was moving through the water on my front, my body feeling different somehow. I opened my eyes, which felt bigger, like my pupils had been stretched. My legs no longer kicked but moved as one.
Suddenly, up ahead in the inky darkness the water danced with phosphorescence, then with voices. My voices. They called to me, but not my name as I had known it. I was drawn to their force, just like in my dream, but I was no longer afraid. I propelled myself forward with hands transformed to webbed-digits. One voice, a female voice, took the lead and echoed through the water the loudest.
‘Selkie, selkie, my seal-child of the sea.’
 And I knew then, that I was finally home.