Forthcoming
Forthcoming
Sarah wakes in an oarless boat, adrift on the sea, heading towards an unknown, inhabited island. While she is full of questions: where am I, what day is it, how will I get home? She can’t ask them without attracting attention to her situation. With no shoes, identification, or money, only dressed in a linen shift, her faith is tested.
Her initial plans for returning home crumble when her partner, Ian, and friends prove unreachable, A series of chance encounters provide more than shelter and friendship. Later, when she speaks to Ian, she admits to him and herself her desire to remain, relishing the time and space to integrate her underworld odyssey, free from old patterns. Tensions ensue.
While Faith remains invisible, a neighbor, Angus, shares Faith’s capacity to know Sarah’s unspoken thoughts and feelings. Their undeniable attraction challenges Sarah to abide by her vow to act with authenticity and integrity.
Read excerpt below.
Return Chapter 1: ARRIVAL
The lulling sounds of Waves and a Gentle Rocking motion held me in a drowsy slumber.
Eventually, my eyes focused on wooden slats, as if I’d slept in a giant cradle. I lay curled in the fetal position, on top of a green-and-blue-plaid wool blanket that itched my lower legs. A long-sleeved cream linen shift dress, a replica of the one I’d worn with Faith before I’d become a mermaid, was bunched at my knees. At least I’m not naked.
As I peered over the rail, the skiff tipped precariously to one side until I centered my weight. I was drifting towards a small harbor, bordered by houses. In my underworld odyssey, I’d never seen a neighborhood, nor other humans that weren’t an aspect of myself. Meeting the embodiment of my Judgements, Impatience, and Rage, as women with their own voices and mannerisms, was no holiday. Never seeing them again would suit me. However, I hoped my guides—Faith, Compassion, and Forgiveness—didn’t make themselves scarce. I’d even welcome Rage, given her transformation into my Peaceful Warrior.
Chilled by more than the morning air, I lay back down, knees bent toward the sky. Even though I floated on calm waters, my insides roiled. When I rubbed my face, crusts of sleep loosened from around my lashes, confirming this wasn’t a dream.
Why didn’t I wake up in my bedroom? I’d expected to return home, through the mirror, the way I’d left. Where in God’s name am I? A few biblical rays of sunlight escaped through the slate clouds.
I called upon Faith but didn’t sense her presence. My last memories with Faith were as a mermaid near the shipwreck, where she instructed me to compose a vow that reflected my commitment to myself. The opening line, “to grow wild by the sea,” was decidedly different from being adrift on it. If this was her idea of a sense of humor, it was lost on me.
When I’d swum back to where I’d left Faith and my Peaceful Warrior, eager to share my vow, Faith was alone. She indicated she already knew it since she didn’t need the spoken word to perceive my thoughts or feelings. After all, Faith was a part of me, even if I’d ignored her for years.