My name is Taurva.

It’s a wonder I even remember it. To tell you my story is quite an extraordinary experience for me and I can’t quite believe I can remember it. For years I had no idea I was living on land as a human, oblivious to who I am really am, my past and where I really come from. So let me start from the place where it all came flooding back to me, the southern English coast during a strange May storm.

A couple of years ago I received a call from a friend who taught people how to dive safely in the water. Catching up, I mentioned the predicament I was in and to my surprise he told me he had a boat that needed someone to temporarily live on it. “Boats don’t do well, when left alone.” A rush of excitement and grateful relief filled my heart. Suddenly an interference jarred my brain for a moment, and I couldn’t quite figure out if it was de ja vu, or some sort of memory. It was a flashback of my teen self when I was on holiday, slowly strolling along the docks of a marina on one of the Canary Islands. I remember the white boats, bobbing merrily in the sun and people sorting empty nets with frowns on their faces. My heart was smiling and I started day dreaming in the shimmering water imagining that I was a mischievous creature of the deep. I had urges to run and dive into the sea and imagined slipping between the boats out of sight and return to the water once more. I imagined swimming with the marine life, dancing through the sun’s rays in the water.

I quickly snapped back to the phone call “I’d absolutely love to stay on your boat, yes! Thank you so much, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Unfortunately a couple of months later he sold his boat so I bought my own little sailing boat. I couldn’t sail, had no idea what I was doing – only that I needed a space to call my own. A year later a storm hit in the marina in middle of the night and I awoke with a start. As it rocked I felt the boat moaning and screeching with stress, it was frightening and unnerving. Something was wrong. I’d been on my boat in bad weather before but not like this. I switched my fairy lights on and sat up, steadying myself on the ceiling and walls. I got out of bed, my body banging on everything as the boat jerked and shook. I grabbed my dressing gown and fell through the small cabin door on to the narrow floor space of the saloon. Cursing loudly, I grabbed on to whatever I could and tried to stand up. My heart was thumping with frustration and a sick feeling of dread filled my stomach. Fumbling for more lights I looked out the window as a wave came up and smashed against the side of my boat, threatening to pull it away from the pontoon. I needed to get off to check my boat was still secure.

Taking a steadying breath I climbed out of the hatch. The wind smacked me straight in the chest and took my breath away, making me stagger back. After shouting in shock remembering it was not a personal attack from mother nature, I pulled myself up and the over railing and stepped on to the pontoon. I could hear people shouting across the lit marina helping each other with their boats. Sighing with relief that I wasn’t alone, I looked back at my boat with my hair whipping in my face. Then it happened. Before I could shout for help the boat gave a huge moan and was pulled away from the pontoon so hard, a cleat snapped off, hitting me straight in the face.

Everything went quiet.

I felt my world swaying in slow motion. Warm fluid trickled down my face and my vision blurred. I fell silently backwards, disappearing in to the dark water. The rumbling sounds of the storm muffled, my mind was calm and dark and my body slow and heavy. Suddenly a flash of light streaked across my vision and blurred images danced across my eyes. My ears pricked and I heard shouting in a language I recognized, but this was not my native tongue. Somehow I knew it was Old Norse the language of the Vikings. The images sharpened and I looked to my left. A stunning yet primitive black haired woman was staring wide eyed and anxiously up at the surface, her long hair waving in the current.

Why was she so familiar? I followed her gaze and saw a huge wooden ship. They ship was caught in a storm and the crew were shouting and helping each other to regain control over the vessel. The woman cried out in distress and the sound reverberated through the water. Moments later I saw them appearing out of the darkness. I knew exactly what they were – Mers. Each one of them uniquely beautiful, tails shimmering in seaweed tones. The black haired mer pointed to the ship and they immediately understood her. They rushed forward to guide the boat to shore. The black haired mer surged towards the surface and I followed her. As she surfaced her warrior cry pierced through the storm.

“Ubbe, we are here!” she called.

Why did I recognize this name? I looked to the boat and saw a man soaked to the skin, with his hair tied in a knot. He leant over the side searching the darkness until he spotted her and his eyes filled with hope.

“Hvilken vei? Which way?” He boomed.

She pointed in the darkness towards the shore, wind whipping her hair around her shoulders.

“Takk min kjaere…thank you, my love.”

I looked back at the woman, shocked at this familiar exchange as she ducked back beneath the waves. I followed her under and saw her swim towards the boat which was now changing course. Suddenly I felt desperate hands grab my shoulders, pulling me up to the surface. More hands grabbed at my waist and clothes, placing my limp body back on to the pontoon. I felt pressure on my chest and through the panicked voices around me I heard her; the unwavering distinct voice of The Ocean.

“Taurva.” She whispered.

My eyes snapped open, I inhaled.

​To be continued…