Not A Fish Girl

I am not a fish girl. Unlike many around me. I grew up in a fishing village, and I live in a  fishing village, but I am not a fish girl. Still, I favour the nights when I dress warmly and go  to the beach at nighttime to marvel at the sea life from millions of years ago. It’s easiest to get  pulled in when the weather is bad. I’m talking high winds, snow and ice coming from all  sides, and waves crashing onto the shore. As they break, tiny droplets splash my face drawing  me further in, while the dim stars above me tell the story of what was. I feel tiny. And  insignificant. 

As gentle giants swoosh past me, I stand several meters down from the promenade, looking  up at seemingly nothing. But I see water all around me. The pressure holds me in an embrace,  making me feel safe as more and more sea creatures appear. Massive whales delicately  switching lanes, octopuses hovering over the sea floor and swarms of smaller fish in the  distance creating shifting spectacles. When my thoughts briefly surface from my  unconscious, I notice I’m breathless, but I immediately get pulled back into the stories of  folkloric beasts and captains’ tales. Stories that echo through generations. Stories that I’ve  heard since I was born and the world before me. 

Behind me is my favourite trigger. The place where they dump all the ploughed snow. It  towers over the beach, forming a cave-like structure. Goosebumps cover my body. What  creatures might hide in here? I feel even smaller now, dreaming of deeper waters, and  stranger beings peeking out from under the cave. Still, I feel safe, and I can’t help but think  how nice it is underwater. Underwater in an eternal embrace. Held and soothed by the cooling  tide that draws out all the nasty thoughts and floods me with clarity. I trust the water to keep  me safe, yet I wonder what might have survived from back then, or what evolution brought  with it. What is hidden in the depths of the sea? Reveal thyself to me. 

These moments of wonder and imagination relieve me from my duties and lift the world’s  weight off my shoulders. No matter how many times I go, the feeling never subsides. Almost  like an addiction, I keep going back for the adrenaline rush and I feel empty without it in the  bright, Arctic summer. I started this habit in my first year of studies, most likely as a coping  mechanism to clear my mind. Since I have only gotten more thrilled by the mysteries of the  sea and it turns out I’m in the right place for that. 

Glowing eyes that may evoke madness. Horse-sized creatures with shells dangling from their  fur. Dragon-like sea monsters endangering sailors. Iceland has a rich history of sea monsters.  Frequently, some get spotted in the fjords and interviews with locals show how serious it is.  One of the region’s museums is dedicated entirely to their sightings and keeps track when and  where they were last seen. According to several witnesses, four main monsters are seen again  and again, alongside countless others. 

In the sixteenth century, someone drew these known monsters around Iceland on a map, yet  we never found them. Are they really there? According to the stories they are. Beasts briefly  surfacing in the middle of the fjords, large enough to take down ships. Others chasing sailors  on empty beaches, eager to drag them into the water. Seemingly belonging to the past but frequently reaching into the present. 

I might not be a fish girl, but I have learned to listen, to look, and to wait.