THE WELL, by Mari Ness 2/2
He was handsome, they told me. I am no judge of men, and did not argue. He was charming, they assured me, although he did not speak to me. I knew only that they had forgotten me, had forgotten to drown me in my well. I shivered in my bed, waiting for them or the curse. Would they take me, flopping and gasping, to a nearby lake?
When they came, they brought no rope. "I have not been drowned," I said, showing them my fair bare skin.
"It does not matter," they told me. "The prince is here instead. And he can skin you, girl or fish."
They dressed me in fair white brocade and silver chains and told me of the prince, how in one morning he had charmed the court, how he longed to take a bride, and did not object to youth. I felt myself longing for my rope.
"But will he love a fish?" I asked.
"He can skin you, girl or fish," they said again.
And so I stepped into our halls to greet him and his cold smile.
We spoke few words at our dinner feast, though he never broke his smile. His eyes, I thought, were cold and dim, though they wandered far and wide. He spilled a large goblet of wine upon me. "My pardons," he said. I tried to bow, and watched the deep red stain seep through my dress.
"It is no matter," they said to him. "She is used to being wet."
"Indeed?" he said.
"We tie her each morning and dip her into a well, to escape a fairy curse," they told him.
He smiled, showing the faintest hint of sharpened teeth. "How delightful."
I did not rise to change my dress. I watched the others feast, drowning themselves in wine, and shivered in our golden halls. I did not dance. As midnight struck, I crept away and stepped softly, lightly, to the walled garden that held my well, and caressed the stones that surrounded it, before sinking beside it, a dull shadow beside other shadows.
The night passed. I remained huddled by the well, in my wine-stained dress that never seemed to quite dry. I dreamed of water and food a little, of the sweet cakes and pastries that would be served at the feast. I thought of rising and dressing myself in my gold brocade and fragile shoes and the golden chains that so weighted down my neck.
Instead, I stayed beside the well and shivered.
They had been right. As dawn broke, and the skies turned grey, I felt my legs quiver, then tingle; saw silver marks glisten under my skin. I pulled myself to the stones that lined the well, sitting on the narrow shelf, and watched as my legs fused together and shortened, and cried out as my arms thinned and spread out and shifted into fins. When the skies turned pale and blue, I opened and closed my mouth, and flopped along the stones, gasping for air.
It did not take me long to fall into the well, where I swam, and swam, deep into its endless depths, dancing in the water, far from any prince who might come to rescue me.
Mari Ness has often dreamed that she has transformed into a fish, or more often, into something without shiny scales. Her work has previously appeared in Fantasy Magazine, Aberrant Dreams, Coyote Wild Magazine, and multiple other print and online locations. She keeps a disorganized blog at mariness.livejournal.com.
[previous] . 1 . 2 . [contents]