In Her Own Skin

Reads: 111  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Commercial Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

A happily married woman in a small seaside town struggles to understand why something always feels missing in her life despite seeming to have everything she could want. Much of her life is clouded
by an amnesia resulting from an accident and she suffers from bouts of depersonalization, but is there more to her sense of emptiness than appears on the surface?

Submitted: January 24, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: January 24, 2018




Ripples spread across the nearly placid surface of the ocean: the only remaining evidence that there had ever been a harbour seal lazily sunbathing on a rock just moments before. The corners of Aislinn McCordum’s lips hinted briefly at a smile as she watched from the bay window of the kitchen.

She knew exactly what Sean would say if he were there, could hear him as clearly as though he stood pouring himself a cup of coffee beside her. “Nasty fucking pests,” he’d growl low and bitterly, “should do away with the lot of them.”

Her eyes rolled out of habit. She had heard him say it so many times over the years it almost seemed like a colloquial saying around the small seaside town of Port Manteaux, Nova Scotia, and it was possibly the only thing on which she and her husband had any dispute. That, and the fact that the kitchen was in desperate need of a modernization.

“But it’s cozy,” Sean would argue. “And traditional.”

“It’s out of date,” Aislinn would quip back, the lilt of her Irish accent adding a melodic quality to her irritation. “People have electrical stoves now. Not these ancient – and dangerous! – gas ones. And some have these new magical appliances called microwaves. It makes their lives easier. And it isn’t cozy. It’s draughty. You never spend any time in here anyway.”

She was right, he had to admit: being a fisherman kept him away from home fairly regularly, and when he was home he really only went in the kitchen to grab coffee or food before leaving just as quickly. Aislinn, too, often stayed away from the kitchen, other than the moments when she would linger by the bay window by the breakfast nook, staring out to sea, just as she was now.

The doorbell rang, startling her from her daydream. She looked up at the large, anchor-shaped clock that hung on the sea foam green wall: 12:43. Who could that be? she wondered to herself and, though she had not been washing any dishes, she wiped her hands on the front of her emerald green dress before heading to answer the door.


Ms. Cortés (“Iris,” she’d tell you. “Call me Iris, dear.”) was an elderly and eccentric Romani woman with whom Aislinn had formed somewhat of a mother-daughter bond – as close, anyway, as Aislinn could remember having such a relationship.

Many of the local children would whisper – mostly excitedly and favourably – about Iris being a witch, as they often do with odd old ladies. Others referred to her by a certain word with more racial and unscrupulous insinuations, albeit most of them did so without realizing the negative connotations of the word; however, there were those who spat the word out as though her mere presence left a bitter aftertaste in their mouths. Iris paid them no mind, insisting that the universe would sort them out in due time.

She stood now, in the doorway of the Victorian house that overlooked the sea, in a sundress that was all the colours and patterns of an acid flashback from the mid ‘70s. It would not have surprised Aislinn at all to know that Iris had been wearing it since then as well.

“Ms… Iris!” (A knowing smile from Ms. Cortés.) “What a pleasant surprise. I didn’t realize you’d be getting back today.”

The two women embraced. “Ah. Well, the funeral was really tough on Abby. She made it clear that I was not needed nor wanted, and who am I to decide how she should grieve?”

Aislinn had always admired Iris’s seemingly endless reservoir of compassion and understanding; her ability to never take anything too personally and never expect anyone to be anything other than what they were.

“Please come in, Iris,” Aislinn motioned somewhat absent-mindedly to the open door. “I was just about to put on a pot of coffee.”


“My heart goes out to her, really, it does,” Iris was saying as she idly stirred her coffee, “but I told her I can’t be the target of all her misdirected anger. Though I can’t say I blame her. It’s bad enough losing a mother at such a young age, to also lose a daughter…”

Her throat caught for moment and she raised a hand to wipe the tears beginning to well in the corners of her eyes. Clearing her throat, she continued, “And I’m sure Dennis will be very helpful, getting drunk and taking it out on her. Just like that no-good sonofabitch who ran out.”

Flames danced behind the pale green of Iris’s eyes. Aislinn had seen Iris angry only rarely, and it was always when she remembered Him, a man she refused to name. What Aislinn had been told about Him was that he had married Iris’s sister, Lillian, when she was 18. He was five years older, and had come to Port Manteaux, as a door-to-door salesman, despite outside visitors being rare in those days. Abby had been born shortly after, and He ran out on them an even shorter time later.

Iris shook her head as if to clear away the swelling anger. “Anyway… they say they may never find her body,” she stated matter-of-factly, raising her coffee to her lips. Aislinn instinctively looked toward the ocean for comfort, as if the sea would know the right thing to say. But she received no answers; nothing except the same constant calling and beckoning of the waves, and so she said nothing but returned her attention to Iris.

“She belongs to the sea now, I suppose, though I can’t say I’m convinced she actually killed herself. I know there was a witness – a boy and his dog – who saw her jump off the cliff, but…” Iris placed her cup on the table and inhaled deeply, “I just don’t feel that her story has ended. I can’t explain it, but in some way, it feels like it’s just begun.”

Perhaps noticing Aislinn’s focus being drawn in more and more by the ocean, Iris decided to steer the conversation away from graves in the waves. “I’d say that’s quite enough of my tales of woe for one day,” she said warmly. “Tell me, dear, what have I missed since I’ve been away?”

Aislinn’s gaze remained fixed on the water as if seeing into other worlds, its surface seeming to grow choppier the longer she stared.


“Mm?” Aislinn said absent-mindedly, without breaking eye contact with the sea. “Oh, um, nothing.”

“Is everything alright, dear? You seem distracted,” Iris asked gently, though it was not uncommon to find Aislinn staring out to sea. Many of the other mothers would gossip about how she missed most of her children’s soccer games by watching the ocean instead. When asked what so transfixed her about the ocean, the only answer she could ever offer was simply, “I’m not sure. It reminds me of home.” Normally, however, she could keep up with conversations.


“Huh?” Aislinn shook her head. “Oh, Iris, I’m sorry. It’s just… Sean’s been out fishing for the last week or so and I’m wondering if he’ll make it back tonight.”

“Oh, dear, it’s no worry,” Iris said reassuringly, though she suspected there was more to it than Sean merely being away.

“It’s our seven year anniversary tonight.”

“Sean’s a good man, and he loves you dearly. I’m certain he wouldn’t miss your anniversary.” Iris reached a hand across the table and placed it on Aislinn’s wrist. “Aside from that, how have you been?”

Again, Aislinn’s eyes were pulled in by the tides. “Not bad,” she said flatly. “The kids are well. Colleen’s going to be moving into Rolling Oakes, so Ronan and I are going to sort through some of Sean’s old things in the attic when he gets home from school.”

“Mm, but how are you doing?”

Briefly, Aislinn eyed Iris, as if trying to discern the proper answer to her question, and then resumed her thousand-yard stare out to sea. “I’ve been… well, you know. I mean, I’m fine; it’s just that there’s something missing. And I don’t mean with my life. I’m very content with everything in my life; it’s just there’s these pieces of myself I can’t find.” A small smirk spread across her lips, “Maybe they’re lost at sea.”

Pausing for a moment, Aislinn glanced toward Iris, who was looking back at her with sympathetic eyes and enough wisdom to know that, sometimes, silence is the best thing to say. With a slight shake of her head, as if to clear the fog forming in her brain, Aislinn adopted a more conversational, albeit still sombre, tone, “Did you hear what’s happened with Liz Enys while you were away?”

“No, dear,” replied Iris in a concerned yet curious voice. “Is she alright?”

“It’s simply tragic, it is,” Aislinn said, her eyes reuniting with the waves breaking on shore. “Poor little Davey. They say she went mad – got it in her head that Davey wasn’t her kid; that he’d been replaced. God, I hope the rumours aren’t true, but they say she may have hurt him. They took her to the hospital not five days ago.”

Inhaling slowly, Aislinn turned to Iris expecting to see her distraught, or at least in disbelief; however, she only seemed pensive, as if she had just been told a riddle and was trying to work out the solution.

“That’s rather peculiar, don’t you think?” she inquired after a pregnant pause.

“It’s shocking, certainly, though it’s not unheard of, I suppose. Granted, I can’t even begin to imagine thinking Ronan wasn’t my son any more. I feel disconnected from myself, most days I don’t even feel human, but to be that disconnected from your own baby… I just can’t imagine.”

“No, no, dear, not that,” Iris said in a near-whisper. “It just… it seems odd for such a thing to happen twice in such a small town.”

“Twice?” Aislinn replied incredulously. “It’s happened before?”

“Yes. Not with Liz, of course – it must have been fifty years ago,” Iris closed her eyes while Aislinn’s, despite being intrigued by the story, sought out the sea once more.

“A woman had moved into town, which in of itself was fairly unusual back in those days. She had a young son, just about Davey’s age, and they mostly kept to themselves. After about a year of being in town she had neglected to show up for work for about a week before anyone thought to check in on her. They found her, panic-stricken and repeating the words ‘not my son’ to herself. They say they found her son in the basement, burns on his wrists and ankles, locked in iron chains.”

A tear fell down Aislinn’s cheek as more welled up behind her eyes. “How awful,” she wiped away the tear with a finger and inhaled sharply. “I hadn’t heard.”

“I suppose the town would rather forget that it happened at all. It slips my mind, sometimes, that you’re not originally from here yourself.”

Amusement briefly flashed in Aislinn’s eyes as her gaze shifted once more toward Iris. “We’ve only lived here six years. Well, I have, anyway. Sean wanted to come home to help Colleen out the year after our wedding.”

A look of bemusement spread across Iris’s face. “You know, Aislinn,” she said. “I don’t think you’ve ever told me about how you and Sean met, or even about your life in Ireland. It seems odd that it never occurred to me till now, but I can’t recall anything about your past.”

“Neither can I, really,” replied Aislinn after a moment’s hesitation. “I can’t remember anything before waking up on the beach after the accident. The doctors believe that’s part of what contributes to my depersonalization disorder.

“Sean’s face was the first thing I remember seeing. I knew only that he was handsome, and though I didn’t recognize him, I had strong feelings of attraction. Love, even. I suppose I heard his voice first; he seemed in distress urging me to open my eyes. He looked relieved when I finally did.

“I asked where I was and what happened, and he explained that we had just been married. We were on a boating trip just after the wedding. You know, taking a small honeymoon to a nearby island. Nothing fancy because we couldn’t afford much, but that was all we needed. We hit some rocks and I guess I fell overboard and hit my head, triggering the amnesia. He didn’t seem familiar to me at all but I took his word about our wedding because I did have such strong feelings of devotion toward him.

“He took me to the hospital where, oddly, they could find no medical records for me. I could remember my given name and nothing else. Sean had to tell them my maiden name; however, he told the doctors that I was going by a false name in order to prevent my family, who I had become estranged from after some sort of falling out, from contacting me and that he was never told my birth name. None of it rang true for me – it still doesn’t – but, of course, that’s not unheard of with amnesiacs.

“When he took me home, he told me how frightened he was that he was going to lose me because he had lost his first wife to breast cancer. He had come to Ireland to visit his father, needing to get away from the constant reminders of her everywhere, and he left Erin and Brigit here with their grandmother so as not to uproot their school lives.

“I had no doubts about our relationship because it was clear that I loved him deeply. The following year, Colleen had a minor stroke and Sean wanted to be with her, and as I had nothing…”

“Sorry I’m so late getting back today, babe!” Sean’s baritone voice resonated from the front of the house. “I’d’ve been home a bit earlier but the crew wanted to take me out for a pint to celebrate the day. Oh! Hello there, Iris!”

Iris greeted Sean with a glowing smile as he entered the kitchen. She had known him since he was just a boy and had always held him in high regard. Sean McCordum was a sensitive and precocious child, full of curiosity and compassion, who had grown into a refined and respectable gentleman. If only, thought Iris briefly, Abby had ended up with Sean, but the thought was quickly brushed aside by the look of pure joy gleaming in Aislinn’s eyes.

“It’s no trouble, love,” cooed Aislinn affectionately. “I hope it was a good time. Iris just got home today and we’ve just been catching up.”

“Ah. My deepest condolences, Iris,” said Sean. “It was too soon. If you need anything…”

“Not to worry, dear,” Iris reached out a hand to pat Sean’s arm. “It’s much appreciated, but I’ll get on just fine. She had her reasons, and she will always be in my heart. I would not want to rain on what should be a happy day! Aislinn was just telling me about your little fairytale rescue.”

Sean chuckled. “I’d hardly call it a fairytale… or even a rescue mission, for that matter,” he looked over at Aislinn admiringly. “The love of my life was in danger and I did what any decent man would do.”

Warmth spread across Iris’s heart as she watched Sean and Aislinn stare at each other with more love than she could remember seeing anyone look at each other. Seven years, she thought to herself, and they still have such passion for one another. She had noticed, as she had noticed on many other occasions, how Aislinn’s demeanour seemed to change when Sean entered the room – how her eyes would brighten, how she seemed somehow more alive, how her gaze was drawn less to the sea. But even then, every once in a while, you would catch her eyes sneaking away ever so briefly to meet with the ocean, like forbidden lovers stealing glances.

“Mum needed some help with moving today, eh?” Sean’s voice suddenly pierced through Iris’s reverie.

“She does, yes. She wanted us to collect some of your old things from her attic. I was going to head over after I pick up Ronan from soccer… what time is it now?” She looked at the anchor clock on the wall, “Oh, shit. I’d better get going if I want to get there before practice ends.”

“Do you mind if I meet you over at mum’s after? I just wanted to grab a shower and a bite to eat first.”

“Of course, love,” Aislinn replied gently. “Actually, I was going to ask if you could pick up Brigit after her drama rehearsal and drop her off at her friend’s? Her rehearsal ends at 4, and it would give Ronan and I a half hour head start on the attic if we didn’t have to wait for her.”

“Not a problem. I’ll meet you at mum’s around 4:30 then.”

Aislinn kissed him softly on the cheek. “I’ll see you shortly. Iris, did you want to come? I’m sure Little Seal would love to see you.”

Iris smiled. “Ah. It would be lovely, dear, but I’ve got some stuff I should really take care of now that I’m back in town. I’ll have to see the little ones later this week.”

“Of course, of course,” Aislinn said as she grabbed her purse and headed for the door. “I hate to leave in such a rush, but I’ll see you. Love to you both.”


Stepping out of her car, Aislinn stopped for a moment to stare across the sea. The wind seemed to have picked up, whipping her hair wildly across her face, and a feeling of uneasiness crept into her bones as she looked up at the dark and foreboding clouds swelling with a pressure waiting to break. Inhaling deeply, she took one more glance toward the choppy waters and turned toward the soccer field where a smattering of small blue and white figures was running around energetically.

“Hey, Aislinn!” called one of the mothers as she approached the field.

“Hi, Barb,” she smiled politely. “How are you? Has practice been well?”

“Mm. Yeah, practice has been good. Ronan is becoming quite the little goalie. He didn’t let a single goal into his net all day.”

Aislinn looked over towards the net where Ronan stood guard, his eyes ever fixated on the ball, and her heart swelled with pride. “He really loves it. He practices all the time at home.”

In the following silence, Aislinn’s attention was again pulled towards the roiling sea at the end of the street.

“Are you alright?” Barb asked.

“Mm? Yeah, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“You just seem a bit on edge. Like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop or something.”

“I’m a bit anxious, I guess, but I think it’s probably just this weather.”

Barb looked upward as the first few droplets of rain began to fall. “Yeah,” she said as the children started walking off the field and back to their parents. “And it wasn’t even supposed to storm today.”

“Mummy! Mummy! Mummy!” came Ronan’s excited calls. Aislinn opened her arms and scooped him up.

“What’s up, Little Seal?”

“I didn’t let any balls into the net!”

“I heard and I’m so proud of you, baby.” She kissed his forehead. “Are you ready to go, though? We have to go through some of daddy’s old things at Grammy Colleen’s. Daddy’s going to meet us there real soon and you can tell him all about it.”

“And Grammy, too!”

“Yes, sweetie. You can tell Grammy, too, but she won’t be home for an hour or so.”


Colleen’s attic was crowded with a variety of old furniture coated in a fine layer of dust, various knick-knacks collected from garage sales over the years, heaps and bags full of mothball-scented clothing long since outgrown, and memories rarely thought about or completely forgotten. Cobwebs decorated the rafters like streamers and particles of dust filled the air like mist in the early morning as Aislinn forged a path through the clutter to the large, octagonal window, which was the only source of light in Colleen’s neglected tomb of nostalgia.

We really should have started this months ago, Aislinn thought as she wearily wiped away a small circle of dust from the windowpane. She let out an audible sigh as her eyes met with the sea, roiling waves rushing frantically across the surface as though waving for her attention.

“Mummy?” Ronan’s voice called, pulling Aislinn from the haze she was falling into.

“Yes, my Little Seal?”

“This is messier than my room,” Ronan said with a hint of disbelief and shock.

Aislinn’s lips curved into a smile. “Mm. It certainly is. Probably shouldn’t have left it to the last minute, huh?”

Ronan kicked a dishevelled teddy bear off to the side as he stepped closer to his mother. “Yeah,” he stated pertly. “Why doesn’t anyone yell at Grammy Colleen for not cleaning it up?”

“Silly Little Seal,” Aislinn replied, tousling his chestnut brown hair. “You know Grammy Colleen has a hard time going up the stairs. If anyone should be yelled at for not getting it cleaned up, it should be me or your father.”

“Oh. Well, you better start cleaning up.”

Aislinn laughed and patted Ronan on the back. “Okay, buddy. But I could really use your help. Here,” she handed him a shiny black trash bag. “There are a lot of old toys over in that corner there. If you could go put them in this bag it would be very much appreciated.”

Ronan looked over at the toys in the corner and back at his mother. “If I see any cool ones can I keep them?”

“I doubt you’ll find much – I think it’s mostly old teddy bears and dolls that Erin or Brigit didn’t want anymore – but you can keep anything that you like.”

As Ronan ran off to the corner of toys long forgotten, Aislinn took one more quick glance towards the ocean, took a deep breath, and shifted her attention to the stained oak wardrobe standing beside her. It was a beautiful piece of work, handcrafted by Colleen’s late husband himself, but a few spots on the doors had begun to warp after years of neglect. Opening the doors, she scanned the dresses that Colleen would have worn in her youth, possibly even before Sean was born. Being a modest Irish Catholic, the dresses were all plain and conservative in style; the wardrobe was an achromatic rainbow of earthy tones mixed with shades of black, white, and grey. The most colourful dress on display was a lavender sundress that looked to have faded over the years (though it would not have surprised Aislinn to know it was simply a livid shade of lavender).

She looked in the large mirror adorning the left door and examined her face. The eyes that stared back at her from the glass seemed a million miles away but felt like the only familiar part of her appearance. Though she had often scrutinized the features of her face, it still felt almost unrecognizable whenever she would stare at her reflection. Today she somehow felt even more alienated from herself and her appearance, as though they really were two disparate things, like her face was merely a mask she wore to hide the fact that she was little more than an empty shell. For a moment, she wished that she could reach through the mirror, grab the strange woman on the other side, and shake her for taunting her in such a manner.

“Mummy?” Ronan called from the corner, again pulling her from her reverie.

Clearing her throat, she replied, “Yes? What is it, love?”

Ronan appeared beside the wardrobe holding a coat of some sort. “I found this fur coat in the toy box but shouldn’t it be over here?”

“Fur coat?” Aislinn said perplexed. She reached down to take the coat from Ronan. “That’s odd. I wouldn’t think Colleen would own anything as extravagant as a fur coat.”

Ronan shrugged his shoulders, his mind wandering back to the chest of toys and the hidden treasures he was sure he’d find there.

“Guys? Are you up here?” came Sean’s deep voice from the stairs.

“Wait,” said Aislinn, turning the coat over in her hands. “This isn’t a fur coat.”

Sean came through the trapdoor to the attic. “Hey, you two. Sorry I’m a bit late. You know how Brig has to talk to every single person before she leaves anywhere.”

“This is a seal pelt,” Aislinn gasped. Storm clouds started rolling in and the attic dimmed drastically. Water welled up in Aislinn’s eyes. She could taste salt in her mouth, she could hear the waves crashing on rocks, could feel the coolness of the ocean on her skin.

“Ais?” Sean said tentatively, stepping towards the wardrobe.

She looked out the window, holding the seal pelt up to her chest. “For seven years you let me believe that I had lost my memory. That I had some sort of depersonalization disorder caused from a boating accident.”

Sean’s voice was calm but wavered ever so slightly, “Ais, please calm down. We can talk about this.”

Thunder rolled in the distance. “But there wasn’t any accident, was there?”

“I can explain.”

“I remember it quite clearly now. It’s all flooding back.”

“Mummy?” came Ronan’s soft and nervous voice.

Aislinn turned to her son and smiled reassuringly. “It’s alright, my Little Seal,” she cooed soothingly. “Everything will be okay. Wait for mummy down stares, k? Daddy and I have some things to discuss.”

“Ais,” Sean started as Ronan ran down the stairs.

“Don’t, Sean. Just save it.” Outside, the wind howled viciously as the sky grew increasingly darker. “Seven years. I was your perfect little housewife for seven years and this whole time I hated myself for feeling like something was missing from my life. You told me I had no family and you let me believe it. You let me believe that I had possibly been abused by people who don’t even exist. You knew all along and instead of telling me you took me to doctors!”

“But, Ais, I couldn’t tell you…”

“No, of course not,” spat Aislinn disgustedly. “Of course not. That would entail you losing your spousal servant, I suppose, wouldn’t it have?”

“No! Aislinn, I love you.”

“Save it, Sean.”

“Just let me explain. I promise I can explain this…”

“You can’t. I’ll listen but we both know it won’t make me stay,” Aislinn said, the fury in her voice beginning to soften to regret.

“I was heartbroken and devastated after my first wife passed, and I had gone to Ireland because I wanted to get away from our memories together. One night I was down by the beach and I saw a group of women dancing naked on the shore. I turned and was about to leave the beach when I noticed five seal pelts behind a rock.

“It seemed odd, but then I remembered the old sailor tales about seal women. Selkies. I didn’t really believe in them, but I grabbed one of the skins. One of the women – you – collapsed on the beach, and the others dove into the sea, their pelts disappearing as the water touched their human skin.

“I ran over to you, and that’s when you woke up and you didn’t appear to remember anything. I… I didn’t know what else to do. I felt responsible for you.”

Aislinn stared at Sean, anger and sorrow burning in her eyes. “If you felt responsible, you should have just told me the truth and let me return to my home and my sisters!” she shouted.

“I know, I know,” Sean nervously answered. “I made a mistake. I’m sorry. We can work on this.”

“Work on this?” Aislinn hissed in disbelief. “No, Sean. I’m going home!”

With that, she brushed passed Sean and headed down the stairs. Ronan was waiting at the bottom, and she grabbed his hand. “Come on, Little Seal,” she whispered soothingly. “We’re going home now.”

“But Grammy’s attic…”

“Daddy can take care of it,” she spat venomously.


The clouds had become so dark they almost appeared black and they surged with angry lightning as Aislinn and Ronan pulled up to the Victorian house overlooking the sea. When they got out of the car, Aislinn once again grabbed onto Ronan’s hand, but instead of heading for the front door, she led him towards the top of the cliff.

“Mummy? Where are we going?”

“Home, Little Seal. To the sea,” Aislinn replied in a mesmerized voice.

“But, mummy, we don’t live in the sea. We live over there,” he pointed back toward the house, his voiced panicked.

“It’s okay, my Little Seal, it’ll be alright,” Aislinn said, trying to sound reassuring but sounding distant and detached.

“No. Mummy. Wait.” Ronan struggled to get free of his mother’s grasp.

Aislinn stopped. She turned to look at her son, his face wet with the rain and with tears, a sudden realization dawning upon her. “I…” she started, her voice, barely a whisper, catching in her throat. “I can’t take you with me.”

“What are you talking about, mummy? Where are you going?” Ronan cried out confused.

“I have to go home, Ronan,” she stated, tears falling from her eyes and her voice trembling and breaking. “I’m not from here. I’m not part of your world. I belong in the ocean. With the seals.”

“Don’t go, mummy, please,” Ronan pleaded desperately.

“I’m sorry, Little Seal, but I can’t stay,” she held the seal skin up to her chest. “Be a strong boy for me, k? I love you. I love you so much, Ronan, and I really wish I could stay, but I can’t. I have to go.”

Aislinn bent down, planting one last kiss on Ronan’s cheek knowing she would never see her little seal again. Her heart broke with the sudden realization that, now, there would always be pieces of it missing.

Standing at the edge of the cliff, she turned one last time to look upon her baby boy, his tears hidden by the rain and his weeping drowned out by the wind, and she held her skin to her chest.

Ripples spread across the surface of the choppy waters: the only remaining evidence that Ronan’s mother had ever stood beside him on the cliff just moments before.

© Copyright 2018 Leo Moonrise. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

More Commercial Fiction Short Stories