The sea took the girl to itself, playing with her hair and dancing her round and round in a gentle waltz until it laid her down in its soft sand bed. Carefully the ebb and flow of watery fingers smoothed out the dress, arranged the limbs and played with the hair. Fishes kissed the beautiful face over and over; crabs and shrimps cut at the dress with their scissor claws. Bit by little bit the sea took the woman and rolled her about, turned her over and stripped her clean. Each tiny nibble and kiss stole piece after piece of her until all that was left was the ivory bone and slender form of her skeleton.
Year after year the sea and her denizens danced with the skeleton girl . Year after year the skeleton girl danced up to the surface of the moon lined sea, to stretch her arms out and stir the surf with her bony fingers. To turn up her blind and shadowed sockets and see if she could find the betrayer of her trust. To open her gaping maw and try desperately to recapture her voice, stolen by the wind .
|Looking for the story in the sea|
What was that my lovelies? When did this happen? Why many, many years ago.
The young man, you ask? He lived on, haunting the cliff paths, begging the ocean to return his love. Year on year, until death took pity and released him, a broken old man. Yet the sea never gave him back his love... no, she wasn't given back to him at all.
The old man had been dead many years when I was a girl but on cold and moon drenched nights we would dare each other to climb the cliff path. The story was those brave enough to climb would catch a glimpse of him. That is if moon permitted, you might see his hunched form stretching out to catch his love. Legend was that if you kept yourself silent and listened carefully you would catch the stolen screams of the woman tumbling over and over in the wind. Those who claim to have dared report a chase over heather as he reached for the intruder; that if you were caught you too would follow his love over the edge and into the sea.