The Little Girl and the Sea Beast

          Once, long ago, before the time of busy-bee cars and rocket planes, before even trains, back when the land was quieter for the absent of horns and honks and grinding machines, there lived a girl along the coast of the Irish west-sea. She lived with her grandparents in a lovely cottage along the big cliffs. The cottage stood alone, about a day’s horse and wagon ride to the nearest village, but the little girl was not lonely, for the sea foam, the squawking puffins, and the brown hares where her friends.

            Now, a sea-beast lived offshore in the waters, beyond where any fishing boat dared sail, but near enough that its mass shadowed the horizon a bruised purple at dusk. The sea-beast had come oh some sixty years past and had devoured many maidens. A hundred-fold brave knights had ventured one-by-one into those waters to try to slay the beast, only to be lost. And so the sea-beast remained and the people left the land, save the little girl and her grandparents, who were stubborn folk with roots deep in those soils and would not abandon the land of their childhood.

            The little girl often sat on the cliffside with her friends the hares and the puffins, and wondered at the sea-beast and the maidens and knights trapped inside. She felt sorry for the maidens and knights having to live in the beast’s belly and wished she could think of a way to free them. She did not think to slay the beast. In the villages, some said little girls couldn’t slay beasts because that was the job for men while others declared that little girls ought to slay beasts because the big men couldn’t, and these contrary sayings confused many little girls (and big men) who lived in those villages into a mid-life identity crisis. Still, the little girl, being far from the villages, had not heard this gossip. And so she did not think to slay the beast only because she knew she was, after all, just one girl. She had learned this wisdom from the hares and puffins: one girl or big man, no matter how grand they are, could not both defeat the sea-serpent and free those inside its belly- both were human.

            The little girl sat and thought, and, along with the help of her friends, schemed a way to free those inside the sea-beast. 

            Early one morning, before even her grandpapa rose, the little girl stole into the pre-dawn, climbed down the steep, cliff stairs, and rowed her grandpapa’s fishing boat out into the waters. She had brought with her cheese wrapped in cloth, dried cod, and water in skins. The puffins her friends accompanied her, but the hares stayed onshore as hares are not creatures meant to be on the sea. Before parting, her friends the hares gave her an amethyst stone. The little girl also took her grandma’s rosary, for, though firm in resolve as she was, the journey ahead frightened her and the rosary beads comforted.

            She rowed and rowed. The oars sliced into the foamy sea like great fins, the green-gray water splayed with the Irish wind, and she was wet and cold. Mid-day she ate some cheese and drank some water. The little girl grew tired. The sun fell and orange-red shadows licked the gray water like flames. The sea-serpent still was far away, the starry-sky awoke above the sea, and the little girl fell asleep.

            While she was sleeping, the wind picked up. The puffins, who know of coming storms before humans do, tried to wake to the sleeping girl, but it was too late: a great storm arose. Mighty waves hurled the fishing boat about as if it were a child’s toy, the wind shrieked in gleeful rage, and rain whipped against her. Disoriented, the little girl could not tell up from down from left to right and was terrified. This went on for a great while. Several times the fishing boat nearly capsized. Suddenly, materializing out of the tempest’s onslaught, a great, looming crag jutted forth like a giant’s talon, and the fishing boat smashed into the rocky outcrop. Thrown from the fishing boat during the collision, the little girl slammed onto a stone ledge where she hit her head. Luckily, the ledge she landed upon was high enough the heaving waves could not reach her. She lost consciousness. Her friends the puffins, scattered during the storm, found her at dawn when the winds and waves had quieted. She was still unconscious, and they flew off seeking help.

            The girl had hit her head too hard, and the impact should have been fatal. But a trickle of her blood smeared her grandma’s rosary, and she was healed.

            At mid-day, when the little girl awoke, she found herself alone. Her boat smashed, her food stores lost, and her friends the puffins nowhere to be found, the little girl was quite distressed, and she cried for a bit. She discovered she still had her grandma’s rosary and the amethyst stone, both of which she had stored in a pouch sown beneath her tunic. This comforted, and the little girl rose to look for drinking water, if it could be found, because she was thirsty.

            She found water and shelter. The rocky outcrop was not very big, and for two days, she wandered it back and forth, looking for her friends and for a way off. It was then her friends the puffins returned, leading another small fishing boat. The puffins had to search far because no-one, besides the girl and her grandparents, lived in sight of the sea-beast, and this is why it took them so long to bring help.  A boy, with curly red hair and a few years older than the little girl, rowed the boat. The boy, the son of a fisherman, was out on the waters the day after the tempest. The puffins, like the girl, were lucky, because not many can understand the language of birds, but the boy was one who could, and more so, he was kind. So upon understanding that they had a friend in need, he put away his fishing net and followed them.

            The boy met the girl on the rocky out-crop, and they shared a meal, for the girl was hungry having not found food on the small isle. Then, the girl told the boy of her quest. “I aim to free the maidens and knights trapped in the sea-serpent’s belly,” the girl told the boy. “But the storm destroyed my grandpapa’s fishing boat and I am without a means to travel across the sea. Would you lend me your boat, and aid me in my quest?”

            The red-haired boy sat and thought for a long while, and the day turned to night. His dilemma was such: He thought the girl’s quest dangerous. More so, his fishing boat was special to him, for his da and him had built it together, and his da was now buried in the Irish soil. But he also thought the little girl’s quest noble, and admired her for her courage and resolution. And so, the following morning at dawn, the boy told the girl, “I will not lend you my boat, but I will go with you, for a company of two is better than one, and a friend is better than none.” The latter of his words had been a favorite quote of his father’s.

            So the boy and the girl left the crag and rowed west toward the sleeping sea-beast.

For two days they rowed, taking turns sleeping, and the sea-serpent’s rolling and coiling body shifted from small mounds to a snowy massif.

            The sea-serpent was not hungry, its belly bloated with maidens and knights, but the boy and girl’s approach irritated him like a fly might a horse. It swished its tail and slammed it upon the water. Huge waves rocked the little fishing boat, and it was tossed back, away from the beast. Sea water splayed the little girl and boy, soaking their clothing, and the salt crusted their ears and dried their mouths. Three times they approached, and three times the beast’s tail flicked and they were hurled away like dolls tossed aside.

            The sea-serpent was vexed at their persistence, and it lunged forward, its jaw unlocked. The puffins shrieked. Waves heaved among wailing wind. Wood splintered with a sound like a whip. The boy leapt from the boat. But the girl was swallowed.

            The red-haired boy was tossed about among the heaving waters. Sunk in the ocean, he could not tell up from down from left to right. By chance, he surfaced. The sun shone but his bones shivered as he floundered among the waves, and the beast’s shadow loomed before him. Yet the sea-serpent did not attack him. It did not see him, small as he was in the wide ocean waters, and the sea-serpent thought it had swallowed the boy with the girl, and readied to settle for a nice, long nap.

            The boy, struggling against the waves, swam towards the sea-serpent. Red sea-moss grew along the serpent’s grey green scales, and small crustaceans crawled among and between the plates. More so, the sea-serpent became sleepy, and fell into a dream. And such, the sea-serpent did not take notice of the red-headed boy who climbed atop it.

            The puffins had rescued the boy’s fishing spear from his boat and brought it to him. The boy crept among the sea-serpents spine, and mounted its crown. Raising the spear, he struck it into the sea-serpent’s great yellow eyes, first one, and then the second. The sea-serpent, awoken from its dream, thrashed, and the boy was tossed again into the sea.

            Now the girl, upon being swallowed, tumbled down the sea-beast’s light-less gullet to land in its belly. It was dark like the interior of a cavern, but a green, dim haze shadowed all like smoke, and it smelled foul. A small, purple light emitted from the pouch sown beneath her tunic, and upon opening it, she brought forth the amethyst stone given to her by her friends the hares. The amethyst radiated a purple light like that of the moon, and the moon-like light brought sight. Ragged and bone-thin, maidens and knights stood before her. With hands thrust upwards, they shielded their faces against the purple light. For though it was dim compared to the sun, their eyes so accustomed to the beast’s interior, the purple glow pained them.

            The little girl then brought out her pocket knife, and gave it to the maiden before her, who, along with the help of other maidens and knights, cut a hole in the beast’s side. The knights and maidens climbed through the hole in the sea-serpents side, and out into the world, where the puffins and many other birds of the sea waited to carry them to shore. The little girl climbed out of the beast, too, and her friends the puffins carried her to shore. There, she met the boy, who had been rescued from the sea and brought to shore by the sea-birds too.

            The sea-serpent, with a wound in its side and blinded by the spear, was defeated. It left the Irish sea-shore and was never seen again. A great celebration followed, and there was a week-long festivity with banners and drums, wine and song. The wounds of the maidens and knights were treated and healed. And there was much merriment to be found afterwards for many years. 

            The little girl was reunited with her grandparents, and her friends the hares rejoiced at her homecoming. She returned to her grandma her rosary, and gave her as a gift the amethyst stone. The red-headed boy and the little girl’s grandpa built two new fishing boats, and they fished together often afterwards.

            Afterwards, the little girl’s life was as much the same as it ever was.  The sea-foam, the puffins, and the brown hares were her friends, and now, the red-headed boy was too. The little girl and the boy did not grow up to get married- for though those tales are lovely, this is not one of them- but they did remain the truest of friends until the end of their days.

The End