Poor Unfortunate Soul: A Tale of the Sea Witch

by Serena Valentino

  Circe wasn’t like her sisters, Pflanze mused. She loved. And Circe felt Lucinda, Ruby, and Martha had finally gone too far with their magic, hurting someone she had once cared for very deeply. Pflanze didn’t blame the sisters for what they had done to the Prince, the curse they had helped set on him, or the torments they had rained upon his head. They had almost driven him mad, and with good reason. He had broken Circe’s heart and treated her rather shabbily.

  Everything they had done, all the meddling and scheming, was for their little sister. But Circe was terribly angry with them for the part they had played in the curse, which had sent the Prince further into his greedy, hurtful ways, nearly destroying kingdoms in the process.

  No, Circe couldn’t forgive her sisters, and Pflanze was almost sure she would never speak to them again as their punishment. The beautiful feline hoped the visit from Ursula would inspire a wee bit of wickedness and bring her mistresses out of the deep depression they’d been suffering.

  But Pflanze’s musings were shattered by screams that caused Martha to drop the glass teapot, breaking it into tiny shards on the black-and-white kitchen floor. Ruby was sobbing. The glass sparkled like diamonds, dazzling in Ursula’s eyes. Soon Ruby’s sobs were so severe she found herself in Ursula’s arms as the sea witch tried to calm her theatrical ravings.

  “Pflanze thinks Circe will never speak to us again!” Soon all the sisters were screaming and crying, wringing their hands, and ripping their dresses. Martha started pulling her hair, and Lucinda was ripping at the feathers in hers, casting them about the room like a madwoman.

  “Ladies, stop!” boomed Ursula’s voice, and the sisters could see, cast onto the wall behind the elegant human body Ursula was hiding in, the shadow of her true form, dominating the kitchen.

  “Silence!” Ursula commanded.

  The sisters fell quiet.

  “You will see your little sister again, I promise you, but first there is something I will need from you.”

  The witches were standing on the rocky cliffs, looking down on the small coastal town of Ipswich. Its little weather-worn cottages were barely distinguishable under the thick layer of soot. You could feel the hate emanating from the place, the pain and suffering that were not only inflicted but that imbued the magic that caused this nightmare.

  The sisters were not only intrigued; they were impressed.

  Like all witches in the land, they had felt the shudder of power when Ursula caused that ruination so many years before. The place stood like a monument to death, a reminder not to cross the sea witch. To the sisters it was beautiful.

  Even Ursula’s brother could not cleanse that land. As pure as his magic was, it could not penetrate Ursula’s hate. Not even the old queen’s rage had caused that much destruction. Oh, she, too, had blighted the lands, but she had left one singular tree with a shiny red apple, a symbol of the tiny shard of hope and, indeed, love that remained within the Wicked Queen’s dark and lonely heart.

  That was the old queen’s failing, the sisters thought: her love. She had never truly relinquished herself to grief and anger. She had never completely filled her heart with hatred. Even now the old queen looked in on her daughter, Snow White, stealing glimpses of her in an enchanted mirror, the sisters’ mirror! The thought of it filled the sisters with rage. Snow White still had one of their treasures and was therefore protected by the old queen and forever out of the sisters’ reach.

  The old queen had failed them so miserably, allowing herself to be swallowed by grief, loneliness, and fear, and ultimately weakened by love. Even in death, she surrounded Snow White with her everlasting love and protection. The sisters often wondered what the old queen could have accomplished if she hadn’t destroyed herself for the love of her daughter. She was such a bitter disappointment. But Ursula was different. There was no one to distract her, no one for her to love. She was alone in the world, alone in her grief, and alone with her pain. No, she wouldn’t disappoint them. Unlike the old queen, Ursula would be able to fill her heart with hate.

  Oh, but the Beast, he had been close to doing that, hadn’t he? Too close, they thought. He’d had a hate within him that sometimes frightened even the sisters. If it hadn’t been for Circe and Belle, he would have died of his hateful, greedy ways.

  Their thoughts returned to Ursula and how powerfully distinct she was from their other subjects. She was a remarkable creature and a magnificent witch with none of those human failings. Her hate was righteous and pure and untainted by self-doubt or conscience. There weren’t many witches like Ursula, and the odd sisters were happy to call her their friend. But why had she brought them there?

  What was that place to them?

  Unlike the odd sisters, Ursula was not privy to others’ thoughts. The sisters sometimes forgot that and then remembered they needed to use their voices if they expected to get answers to their questions.

  “Why this town?” “Yes, why? There are so many towns like it.” “Towns filled with murderous fishermen.” “Why take revenge on this one?”

  Ursula laughed gutturally at the simplicity of their scope. She hadn’t waged war on the human town because its residents offended the sea. It was much more personal.

  “This was my home, dear sisters. This is where it began, and I want to share my story.” Ursula paused, lost in thought, and then continued. “We’re here because I want you to help me kill Triton.”

  The witches shivered. Magic fueled by hate was very powerful, indeed. And if Ursula was willing to gather all their hate, which was their impression, then there was a chance they could destroy Triton—but the sisters needed a reason. They needed to be invested. They needed to hear her story.

  Hate—true hate—wasn’t just conjured; it was birthed. It had to come from within so it might become its own entity and slither into the hearts of its enemies to choke them. If this was a truly worthy cause, if their hate could be harnessed, then there was nothing the witches couldn’t destroy. Then the sisters thought of her.

  Their Circe.

  Her heart was full of hate, probably for the first time. She harbored hatred for her older sisters deep within her beautiful little heart, a heart they had thought was too full of love to hold hate for anyone, especially her family. Never even in their wildest of frenzies had they ever considered the possibility of losing their little sister’s love. It didn’t seem possible, but it was true: she detested them for their foul meddling with that damnable Beast! No matter how the odd sisters pleaded, Circe wouldn’t listen to reason. Her heart was broken, shattered into tiny pieces, and Lucinda, Ruby, and Martha couldn’t mend it.

  Circe’s magic could keep her from her older sisters for an eternity if she chose. At once, the thought sent chills down the odd sisters’ spines. Never to see their little sister would be the worst of punishments, the most horrible thing they could imagine. And they wondered if they deserved it. Surely Circe was making more of things than she should. Everything they had done was for her. In defense of her. For the love of her. All for Circe. All for their dearest little sister. They would happily risk their lives to destroy the sea god Triton if it meant they could see her again.

  They would destroy anything. And with stakes like those, they knew it wouldn’t be too difficult to muster their hate.

  Tucked away in the gingerbread-style mansion, Pflanze and her witches prepared for Ursula’s story. The sisters put Ursula in their most comfortable spot next to the fireplace, in a lovely overstuffed periwinkle velvet chair with many red quilted pillows piled high to rest her weary feet upon. She was not used to walking on land, on two legs, and it wore on her.

  Alongside her chair was a little round table with a rose-patterned teacup set on it. Steam curled up and out of the cup like wispy tentacles. If it hadn’t been for the unfortunate events for both the sisters and their dear friend, this would have been just like one of their countless delightful visits during which they’d usually gossip about the goings-on in the various kingdoms or share stories of their wicke
d deeds. There was nothing quite like sharing stories with other witches, especially with a witch like Ursula.

  She was a true witch with a royal background and with great power—but most important, she had a sense of humor. There was nothing she didn’t find humorous, even in herself. She was the cheekiest witch they knew, and that was probably why their little sister, Circe, liked her so well.

  Oh, Circe.

  Their dearest little sister. Would they ever see her again? Was she lost to them forever? “What if something terrible happened to her?” cried Ruby.

  “You must stop this obsessive fretting over Circe at once, Ruby, please!” “Yes, calm yourself. Ursula is going to share her story now.”

  Ursula’s voice was calm and flat. There was no hint of her customary histrionic flair. Her voice did not boom. It was almost small, and she seemed more serious than the sisters had ever seen her.

  “My father found me floating on the waves, clutching to a piece of splintered wood, which he presumed was the tattered remains of a terrible shipwreck. He scooped me out of the sea and brought me back to his village and that is where I lived.

  “With my father.

  “He called me his little sea poppet and raised me as his daughter—and that is what I was: his daughter. I waved him good-bye every morning when he went out on his fishing boat, and prayed the sea gods would bring him back to me safely—which they always did. He was the only person in the world who truly loved me. He thanked the sea gods daily for bringing me into his lonely life, and I thanked them for bringing him into mine. Neither of us could know of the thing growing inside me, the power I had, or the form I would eventually take. If only I had trusted in his love and confided in him when I started to fear the thing I was becoming.”

  The sisters were listening intently. Waiting. Waiting for the rage and fury. But Ursula had fallen silent, lost, it seemed, in her own thoughts. Memories, no doubt, of her father. They had never seen Ursula so pensive.

  Martha broke the silence. “Did he betray you? Men always do, don’t they? Fathers never love their daughters as they should!”

  Ursula shot Martha an icy stare but didn’t answer.

  “Was he revolted by your aquatic form? Frightened of your power?” “Oh, I bet he tried to kill you! Fathers are always a disappointment!” “Oh, we can help with hateful fathers!” “We can call upon the old queen if you don’t believe us!” “If only Snow White didn’t have the mirror!” “Oh, we know a thing or two about wicked fathers!”

  Through unexpected tears Ursula simply said, “No,” and the sisters knew they had gotten it wrong—terribly wrong—and they regretted their words.

  They fell silent, waiting for their friend to answer, even though they already knew it wasn’t her father at all; it was the people of the village.

  “It was them, wasn’t it?” Ruby muttered bitterly. “It was those wretched villagers!” Pflanze narrowed her eyes and adjusted her paws. She had very little affection for most humans. They had always proven to be distrustful and full of superstitious notions.

  “When I started to show signs of being other than human, I was frightened. I had no idea what was happening to me. I was afraid I had offended the sea gods in some way and they had set an affliction upon me.”

  “But you are a sea goddess of the highest rank!” the sisters chimed.

  “I had no way of knowing that then. I was just a girl. Every day the sea’s call grew more powerful and the urge to leave my father’s shores harder to resist. The village was full of simpleminded fools, all of them too willing to blame every little mishap on the gods. All of them pointing fingers at those who may have brought the gods’ fury upon them. All except my father, who had managed to keep to himself until I came into his life.”

  Pflanze thought her witches might cry, seeing the salty tears well up in Ursula’s eyes and realizing what must have become of her father. What a terrible way to learn she wasn’t of this world.

  Inevitable, but terrible.

  “I walked to the cliffs every morning after my father went out on his boat. There I looked to the sea for answers, wondering why I felt this way, why I felt different from those around me, and why I felt compelled to dive off the cliffs. I thought I must have been going mad, and I feared there was something terribly wrong with me, because surely I would die if I were to jump into the sea. That I should want to end my life in such a horrible way caused me great terror, but somehow deep within me I sensed death wouldn’t be waiting for me in those cold, dark waters.

  “It was something else, something familiar yet far too frightening to discover. I knew in my heart if I succumbed, the ocean would claim me in some other way, and to me that was like a sort of death, to be away from my father, who loved me so dearly. Every day I stood there, willing myself not to jump, praying to the sea gods to give me strength to stay ashore, but one foggy morning I could no longer resist the urge and I jumped. And what I discovered was frightening beyond all imagination.”

  “Is that when they discovered you?” asked Lucinda, her eye makeup smeared from crying.

  “Yes, they were waiting for me on the shore. They dragged me to the center of town, where they were going to burn me. These were people I had known my whole life and they were coming out of their homes and piling anything that would burn onto my pyre.”

  “How did you escape?” Ruby asked.

  “My father drove most of them off with his harpoon, threatening to kill them if they didn’t let me go, but soon there were too many…”

  She was quiet again, clearly caught in the nightmare from her past.

  “They ripped him to shreds, my father, trying to get at me. Trying to put me back on the pyre. He put himself between us, giving me the chance to escape, and I did, into Triton’s realm.”

  Lucinda spoke. “Triton’s realm, you say! By rights it is yours, as well! You are his sister!”

  Ursula sighed. “I didn’t know who I was then. Triton didn’t make himself known to me until I blighted Ipswich.

  “He is no brother of mine. He didn’t care what those foul humans did to my father! What they did to me! Oh, he brought me to his kingdom and presented me as his beloved sister, but even he wouldn’t let me live among his people in my true form!”

  She stood from her chair, knocking over the pillows, clenching her fists, and raising her voice in anger. “This was the face that greeted my new family! And this body, with the exception of a mermaid’s appendage! He didn’t think his precious merfolk could stomach the likes of my true design, so he ordered me to hide myself within a mermaid’s body!” she continued. “He didn’t want me as a sister! He wanted this!” Pflanze understood. Triton had stolen her beauty. He made her hide in a version of her human form, not allowing her to be herself. She had been trapped and made to feel loathsome.

  What a sorry brother Triton was, the cat thought. What a terrible brother indeed. Lucinda and Martha listened, fearful of saying something out of turn, but Ruby, as she often did, went against her sisters’ wishes. “You are a very powerful witch and can take any form you like! What does it matter which one you choose?”

  “What does it matter?” Ursula yelled, her body now growing taller and more expansive. “What does it matter?” Very rarely did Ursula show her true self while on land. It was painful and made it difficult to breathe, and in the wrong company was possibly very hazardous to her well-being. But for just a moment, just the slightest of moments, she let herself be revealed, as if the anger within her could no longer be contained.

  “You’re right! I can take any form I like! This is how I choose to look, and I have nothing to be ashamed of!”

  “Of course you don’t!” sputtered Martha, clearly in awe of Ursula’s rage.

  “But that wasn’t the worst of his misdeeds, my darlings! Remember, I was in that village for years and my brother never came looking for me! It wasn’t until after my father was killed and I returned to destroy those foul murdering humans that he made himself known to me! And w
hy? Why do you think he came? Not because he loved me! Not because he had been searching for his lost beloved little sister! He sought me out because he couldn’t rightfully take the throne without proving I was dead or unworthy! He abandoned his baby sister and didn’t bother looking for me until it served his aims! I think he used his magic to bring me into my powers so I would transform among those who would hurt me. He must have known I was among humans and how they would react. That they would try to kill me! I would be surprised if that wasn’t his goal. His actions caused my father’s death and he felt nothing for my loss of him! You know how Triton feels about humans. He wouldn’t have bothered with condemning me for what I did in Ipswich if the humans hadn’t been transformed and sent to besmirch his realm—to soil his precious kingdom with unclean human hybrids!

  “You should have heard the tales I learned while I was at court! Stories of Triton’s wrath brought down upon humans who offended the sea were legendary! Why, then, would my actions be so offensive to him, do you think, if not to set me up as some madwoman, some evil, vile murdering creature unfit to share his throne? When things were at their worst between us, when he was still making a pretense of wanting me to be by his side, he actually said my father deserved his fate for the countless murders he committed as a fisherman, and for not fearing the gods.”