Berengaria's Best: The Ultimate Short Story Collection

Lemuria, Whispered The Sea*

Lemuria (originally written for TalesOfTheSea's contest "The Calling" Summer 2020.)

It was on a cloudy day in that calm undecided time between summer and autumn when we first heard the whisper.

We lifted our heads, stalks of coarse sand grass hanging from the sides of our mouths, and listened hard into the wind. Many of us expected to hear the rhythmic panting of an approaching wolf or the rustling of hawk feathers as a lone speck circled over our heads in search of its dinner.

In search of us.

But this was — different. Odd. New. It was vague and unformed, but already carrying the essence of language, of a word. We turned our heads in unison to the cliff, to the sound of the foamy ocean lazily caressing the rocks below.

Some of us continued to chew, bits of weed or bark from one of the straggly trees that marked the borders of our colony disappearing into pensively grinding jaws. We listened as the breeze swept the tones over us in waves, ruffling our fur and nestling into our ears, settling into our bones, our blood.

It took days until we were able to hear it distinctly, to understand each nuance. And when we did, we stilled in shock.

Lemuria.

We had heard the legends of our ancient homeland from some of our most elderly, many of whom, in their final hours, believed they were swimming to Lemuria, heeding the call of the water, heeding the call to come home, as their hearts ceased to beat and their paws curled into death fists.

Anxiousness gripped us. Fear and excitement widened our eyes. Rumours made the rounds in our overcrowded tunnels where we'd burrowed deep, creeping from nest to nest like parasites. The water was calling us, we concluded in hastily organised meetings. All of us. Calling us to come home.

Lemuria, the sea continued to whisper, day after day. Lemuria.

We assembled on the cliff, moving as close as we dared to the edge to listen to the Word that drifted in on the salty currents of the wind, and search the horizon. But all we saw were the lichen-covered rocks that jutted out above the flat mirror of the water like teeth, the small peaks of waves and the glistening backs of fish and seals as they passed by.

The sea became more beautiful, more tantalising to us with each sunrise, with each repetition of the Word.

Before we knew it, we were hearing the sea whispering in our dreams, making us hallucinate the final journeys of the old ones. Making us taste the salt of the water on our tongues, feel weightless as we swam in the night-dark sea of our collective unconscious.

When we woke, we danced and lashed each other with our tails in excitement. Lemuria, we groaned to ourselves and our loved ones. Lemuria.

And then, the urge, the pressure, overtook us in what felt like seconds, blocking out everything until the entire world consisted of only the Word and the sea. The sea and the Word.

We stopped eating. We stopping thinking.

We ran, hurling ourselves over the edge of the cliff one right after the other. Not caring where or how we fell.

Cold water clapped shut over our heads like the wings of a hawk, but we resurfaced, swimming and screaming.

And the sea spoke.

Swim.

Your home is waiting. Not on the other side, but down below.

Swim.

Then burrow deep.

Find Lemuria.

And we did. We swam out into the open embrace of the ocean until the cold worked its way through our fur and chilled our insides, making them feel hard as shells. We swam until our arms and legs began to lock. Until we began to falter, and sink, the Word still on our lips.

We burrowed down, sank deeper, but strangely became lighter as we went, as if we had no more need of our bodies. As if we had no more need of anything but to reach Lemuria.

In our final moments, we saw it, just like our elders had described, shimmering in the marine twilight among the rocks and swaying weeds. The long silvery gateway to our legendary homeland, like a whale reclining on its side, a jagged entrance way that lead to our one desire blossoming up out of its belly .

And as we drifted, one by one, into the ever darkening gateway, we knew we were safe.

Don't think we wanted to die.

It was just the only way to come home.