THE OTTER-MAN

This is based on a dream I had a few weeks ago...

Eyes peered through the sea-foam gloom. The darkness shrouded the riverbed, that once gentle place; it’s vile touch torturing the peace. Whiskers twitched in the water, the quiver of unease. There was no taste of danger above the surface. In one swift movement the creature pushed itself though the stream, its heavy current but a faint battle.

            The night was still as black above the floods, its horror illuminated now and then by the terrifying boom of a thunderous light. Gradually though the ripples emerged a head, the very skin of the human brow, the petrified golden eyes of a gentle soul, and the flat russet snout of lutra lutra – the river otter. Gliding through its own living nightmare the malformed creature hurried along its course, quacking every time the firelight caught itself in the rivers reflection. Above another howl erupted and the downpour began.   

            Tears welled the creature’s eyes and like that miserable rain soaked the creature to its very core. What wretchedness is this? It thought, what evil walks abroad my home? And with a terrible cry the creature sank below the surface once more, wishing its instinct gone, so that it may waste in the depth. But nature is a hard master to be rid of and all too soon the creature swam the tide again, remembering its final purpose; it’s reasons not to burn. And though one may not credit such a creature a soul or thought, this one knew. In its heart it held pain, anger and betrayal. It knew loss and wept for it. And only its memories smiled.

            Winds roared fiercer then before, tearing at the creature as it drove its tired body further against the river. It was there on the black horizon, where dawn would soon appear that the creature headed. It would not be long now…

 

Even in the blackest time colour can come from thought. And tonight was such a night for Nye. His body was weakened and cold fever was beginning to claim him, but above all this he was lost. From the peak of happiness he had fallen and so he wished to remember those happier times, not dwell his final hour in this torment.

            The river had not always over rode its banks. Once it had been a sunny shore of lush soft grass and golden earth, its waters blue starred with jade. The sun would beam down heating the waterway with comfort. Frogspawn clung to the think reeds, as small birds hurriedly gather stick and twinge to nest. Schools of trout and fresh course fish lived merrily and numerously in the depths of the brook, providing sport and meals. Wild daffodils lined the river path, a harmony of gentle trumpets played by the blissful hums of hoverflies, their darting shadows never casting a single hindrance over the apatura iris lazy atop an aging panther. Everything had flourished once. From the emerald drapes of the weeping willows to the distant golds of the twisting hazel tree, the picture of a contented nature blossomed forever spring.  

            Nye would swim in the humid waters, drifting playfully against a calm current. By the time he was grown he had explored many miles around his riverbank, over land and stream but never did he see another like himself. A long way down the river was a small family of creatures, each with a broad head and small ears, long tails and a shinning chocolate coat. And each and every one held the small flat noise upon their whiskered muzzles, the same feature Nye had seen in his reflection. But as he watched them sleeping in the sunny rocks, the dog grinding its teeth into a newly caught eel, Nye knew. These where not kin, not the same as he. And so he continued further down the river, past his home, towards the place the sun was born.

Soon after, when his energy was starting to ebb he came across a strange rock. Or was it many? It grew from the grown, towering over the bright meadow below, its angles straight and strong, not unalike the oak trees that kept the forest but this was not of nature. It held ice water in smooth bark trim in its face, like the glossy eyes of the nut-boring weevils. Its character was still like a stone, so it could not be living. Crawling up the riverbed, the creature peered at the thing, wondering if it was safe, when the thing burst into life with a protesting moan, and a mouth opened. Diving back into the waters, Nye placed his misshapen paws over his hairless chest, panting hurriedly without air in safety.

            Soon he calmed and chanced the surface once more.

            Back on the riverside a strange purring was heard. It sounded as sweet as the cornfield poppies tasted. It drifted thought the air like a swift, filling Nye with a warm joy he had never know before.

And then he saw movement and he knew that that was the source of the sound. But what a bizarre creature it was that came from its burrow of tall stone. It wore garments about its body, for Nye knew what they where though he did not know how, and he remembered something like this he kept in his hovel. But no other animal he knew wore garments. Its skin was pale and smooth in the sunlight, a rich pink glow garlanded its cheeks in-between set was a very strange nose, not unpleasant but one of which Nye had never set eyes on. Its eyes where round and distant, a beautiful blue light set in their centre. Long locks of hay-corn hair fell down its back, lovelier then the Eternity Waterfall itself. The creatures forelegs swayed lazily by it’s torso, gentle playing with the wind with it’s long toed paws, the same as Nye had, and just as he sometimes did it moved on it’s hind legs, straight and tall. 

Pausing on a slight hill, the girl looked about her as a small bleat broke her sweet song. Following her gaze Nye saw the small pepper spotted lamb stranded away from its herd and sighed as the girl swept it up into her soft arms and danced away into the distance.

Nye watched that place until night. He saw others like her come and go about their business, and she too, with the beauty of a flower wondered the meadow, hanging garments over a line of think silk and bringing in milk from the friendly cows that grazed over the rise. And then with darkness, the other humans left and the girl went back to her home. Nye watched until they had all gone away, feeling truly content for the first time. These things, these humans as he thought them called where so magnificently beautiful. And they looked more akin to him then even the shiny chocolate coats that slept upon the sunny rocks. Is this family? He thought.   

He came again at dawn, this time in the garments that had always resided in his habitat. He thought they would feel strange but they were not, it was natural to wear them and he felt ashamed that he had never done so before. And so like the day before he crept from the waters and lay on the glorious grass, drying in the sun, waiting. He did not wait long. Soon a rooster crowed and sure enough, from the house as he called the tall stone, came the lovely girl again. She danced to the base of the hill, where the grass grew tallest and thick and seated herself and begun to pick the many sprigs of heather that grew there. For hours she sat in the sunlight, gathering her crop and fashioning it into a strange oval.

And then she stood and went to enter her house again. But instead she stopped midway and turned, a look of upset on those sweet lips.

“Will you not come out of your hiding sir?” She called, a smile tracing her lips for a second time. “I shall not be afraid to see you. Please come speak with me?”

Nye was about to creep silently back into the water, afraid to be revealed to soon and even more so that he could understand the sounds she made, the words she spoke, when the girl called out again, “Please?”

How could he refuse her?

Dragging himself from his perch he corrected himself into that manner of walking the humans adorned. He moved a foot forward on the gentle sward, moving with a care, his face directed towards the ground. He neared her slowly. Then he felt a tender stroke of those long fingers under his chin, motioning his head to face her.

A quite gasp escaped her lips as she beheld him. That long russet hair, casually lifted in the breeze, those bronze eyes piercing against the blue of the sky, that strange feature of his face, like an animal but kind.

“See, not so terrifying as it could be.” She sang sweetly.

 

Over time a fatal friendship bloomed over Miss Gardenia and the strange being that was Nye. For the first few visits Nye was happy just to sit and listen to the lovely girl as she chatted merrily about such things as the farm, her family and her joy at living in such a free countryside. Nye would smile and nod and gradually his confidence grew. He was no longer afraid to sit out in the open. He was happy here. Free. And after a week he himself said so.

            “Please Miss Gardenia.” He said, slowly surprised at the sound of his deep voice echoing about in his jaws. The girl clapped merrily on hearing her name and smiled that winning smile. “I shall like to tell you…how pleased I am to know you…so very pleased.”

            “Me too.” Was the reply, for the girls mind was so frantic with wanting questions that she could not focus on words. He could speak. What a marvel, yes! And to think he was such a strange shy thing, but so lovely and true.  

            And so questions began and they found out their most favourite things, among themselves as that sat presently among the honeysuckle in the sweetly scented breeze of a spring sun. Nye told her of his life in the waters, and when she asked how he had came to be he sat for a moment in stillness and thought long and hard about his memories, contented.

            “I awoke in an underground shore, Miss Gardenia, very beautiful it is too, and one day I shall take you there so you can see it for yourself. It has sandy walls of fine earth, golden. They mirror the light of the water well, one would suppose like the starlight on the silver birch, light-hearted like music. It is always warm in the underground shore. It is home. This is where I woke up and found my first sights of the world. I was in so many marvels that I did not notice the absence of company and remembered never having any or of what it should be like. I am alone in this world as I was made to be, save my friend in the water, its green glory set at the end of the underground shore, its cavern ending with its hope. And so I came to be.”

            “But what of the future?” Asked the girl meekly with a smile, hoping to disguise her desires.

            “I was created with knowledge, that of which I don’t know how I acquired, the same as these garments came to me, it is a mystery. I knew I was alone and I knew not to fear it. I knew how to move and walk, hunt and play in the water, how to breathe above and below and the names, both normal and secret of all things, even myself. It is the same, as I knew how to speak without ever trying before. I also knew that one day when I am too old I shall have need to make a journey to the Eternity Waterfall and ride over the very top. I knew when I have done this I shall be happy and at peace.”   

            The girl’s musical applause reached his ears and he blushed.

            “And until that time?”

            “Until that time I am pleased to know you.”

            And they smiled at each other again.

            At that moment voiced flew over the hill, and spoke out in greeting. Hastily Nye jumped to his feet and bowed he’s departure to Miss Gardenia, and hurried back to the waters. It was three days before he dared return.

            “Why did you run away?” Asked the girl upset. Nye wanted to comfort her but knew himself the coward, he was not meant for human eyes and it was selfish of him to be here. He told he so.

            “Then please be selfish for I want you here too. Please stay, and come with me tomorrow into the town, I would like very much to show you to my friends.”

            But Nye knew it would be difficult, he knew it was forbidden and a continuance of this action would follow. However Gardenia’s pleading melted his frosted air despite all his resolve and they where going to town.

            The poor creature alarmed at the vastness, the intensity, and the rush of the town curled up in the carriage holding back his weeping eyes, wishing only for his secluded little hovel of golden sand.

            “Fret not Nye, dearest Nye.” Said the girl gently patting his arm and entwining her fingers into his. “They shall love you as I do and you need not be afraid.”

            And what’s more they did.

            The beautiful people greeted him with warm arms and did not jeer at his appearance, for they knew that no one was perfect and that they to could be un-comely, for some in sickness had lost their teeth, while others help pot scars from plague. But Nye saw not an imperfection in their smiling faces and he knew for the first time what friendship truly was. He was no longer alone.

            He wished to thank Gardenia for his given glory and so made good on his promise to take her to his home. He held her tenderly in the water and taught her how to catch her breath and once under held her hand, guiding her though the magical ocean that was his. And when she ran out of breath he breathed her his, pleased to let his lips touch hers.

            Into the night they spent there time in the underground shore, Gardenia applauding over the many tiles of slat that Nye kept, on which with wood bark paint, berry cordial, chalk and charcoal, he had recreated her in many ways, rescuing a frightened lamb, gathering heather and simply smiling.

            Love fed the night.

 

Weeks past. Spring became the heart of summer and that heart gave way to the bronze of autumn. The greylags took from they furrow fields and journey south. Squirrels became few and far between as their readied for a winters slumber. The world was changing. The darker months where here.  

            And so too that much feared consequence.

            They came at night, the travelling circus. The top hat stood in the town square and many came from afar to wonder at the acrobats and the many strange things within that canvas. Miss Gardenia insisted and thus the pair attended the great display and laughed and clapped with the other town folk. Enjoying their show neither notices the conductor watching them from a darkened stall. He watched their loving hands hold each other, their laughs and merry speech, but most of all he watch that distorted noise upon the creatures face and he knew that sin walked here.

            The circus night ended and the lovers walked home, silently followed but the conductor and his immoral crew. Nye parted his beloved Miss Gardenia at her door, seeing her safely at home and returned to his river. He slept little that night, un-at-ease with himself, knowing there was something he must do. And so he left the underground shore, a beaming smile on his muzzle as he ventured back to his sleeping love to ask her to walk the aisle with him. He rose from his water in elation, despite a trickily nerve that plagued the back of his thoughts.

But before he could take a step, he was knocked to the ground. A net flew though the air, trapping him in a muddy fleapit. Wet boots kicked his face, shovels breaking his back as they beat him, delighting in his pain. They dragged him in front of the house and tied him to a stake they had erected, and beat him still further with sharpened birch wood and chain.

Though a bloody vision Nye beheld it, and wept and scream and cursed his hatred, his anguish. He watched in horror as these strangers laughed and taunted as they placed to flame the house in which his lover slept. He watched as she scrapped and beat the glass as the flames licked at her feet, unable to escape and pleading for release. He saw how they laughed, how they jeered, chanting ‘devils w***e’ and clapped at the sight. His stomach churned and he knew this was the end. He saw her die in an inferno of nightmarish hell and he knew hatred. He knew pain. He knew loss. He had known love.

The circus folk threw his limp carcass into the river, believing him dead. He felt though the unfriendly waves, he slept in their depth and called out her name.

 

Tears welled the creature’s eyes and like that miserable rain soaked the creature to its very core.  I should never have loved her, he thought, should never have wanted, never have looked.

Thunder appeased the darkness with a ghostly song; it’s beat the whip of the devil in a laughing voice. Stones of water lashed at the river about the creature’s head, but now he no longer felt pain. For far in the distance the first whisper of pale light emerged over the fast flowing ravine. 

Alone once more the creature knew his purpose now that life was gone.

His last sight as he drifted over the peak of Eternity Waterfall was her face and he knew his memory was real.    

The otter-man knew peace.

 

Reviews

[emmajoy]

What a beautiful story, mysterious yet the emotions so real. That Nye should find a love out of his own world, that Gardenia would accept him for what he was .. that's how our real world should be ..

Your phrasing truly brings the tale to life, and, your language is gracious and correct for the near mythical form, 'For hours she sat in the sunlight, gathering her crop and fashioning it into a strange oval.' You have a sense of the unreal yet write with reasoned shape.. there's no melodrama, no excess frills.

There's such a show of life as it is: the cruelty that exists, the lack of empathy, the intolerance and bigotry. You include it without apology yet write with great diplomacy.

The ending is near terrifying but the final words are so tender, near divine. Sad yet .. a lesson learned.

(There's a book called The Minotaur takes a cigarette break': Steven Sherril .. it's harsher yet beautifully written by the poet SS.. your story reminde me just a little of it._

[Ruby Moon]

this was a sad but beautiful love story...
some parts i had to re read a few times before understanding it because of the way the sentence was structured...
but because of the way the sentence was structured it also made the story seem more surreal...

[R J Askew]

Marvellous strage story. I'd have to read it about six times before I cld begin to try and 'solve' it. But then I don't think it is a story to be solved by reason, just marvelled at. There is great innocence and charm in the natural ways of the creature. There is a flowering of love that seems perfect and then there is ridicule and violence. People are friendly but then they also enjoy the spectacle of the circus. I wonder if the eternity waterfall symbloises great emotional shifts and energy that wash away the unpleasantness promising a pool of tranquility beyond? The sheer otherness of the storyteller's point of view was delightful. The dab about ... burrows of tall stone ... was perfect. Above all I enjoyed surrendering to the strange sadness of the tale which took me out of my hard-headed reason.