Original Work - Seal Tales
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It seems the air is in a tangled web
That each step tears and each move rips.
Serene the eve lingers in dusky haze.
Though safe my heart wallows in mild soft gloom.
— Xuân Diệu, translated by Thomas D. Le
The fairy-tale book lay open in his lap as Robert Sanger leaned back against the old apple tree and contemplated the lie that his life had been. The wind whispered through the leaves, the sunlight dappling through them, golden light wavering as uncertain as reality itself under his attempted grasps at it. Things are difficult when, all your life, believing yourself human, you find out that you are a mythical creature. Robert could count himself lucky that he had discovered this near the end of his freshman year; any later, and he might have been driven mad or, worse, completely ignored the call of his true self. He did not think himself lucky, however.
- Part 1 of Seal Tales: Beginnings
Before he had a name, he had the sea and the ice. His people were the seals that the Inuit call nattit, and they lived their lives under the pack ice, dining on fish and squid. The people were also known among their greater kin as the Lone People, for they never congregate in rookeries, living out their lives in ones and twos. Many of the Lone People would be more than satisfied with a solitary existence, if it weren’t for the mating season.
He was not like the others, for he craved more than a lonely existence in the icy seas, an urge that marked him as a shaman of the Lone People. Shamans have always existed among all the peoples, both of the land and of the sea, but they are never celebrated by the Lone People, who have no need of them. Such a potential shaman of the Lone People has a hard road ahead of them, for if they would learn their art, they must do so from another people. If they are lucky, their nearer cousins, the Heavy-Jawed People, will teach them; if they are unlucky, they must attempt to appease more dangerous relatives, like the Tusked People, or to cross language barriers, as with the Wise Ones that sing in the deeps.
The Hunting People are not to be thought of.
- Part 2 of Seal Tales: Beginnings
PTSD has otherworldly consequences in the Immortal Lands.
Written because I need serious catharsis from my own PTSD.
The goddess of love has no heart. I was her sister; I should know.
- Part 3 of Seal Tales: Beginnings