The greasy café window is ready for the show A hundred different stories drifting by Keep your eyes on the shadows lurking on the pavement Cause no-one has any faith in the sky They’re all actors on the stage Nothing appears, as it would seem I like my coffee black, no sugar I like my coffee black, no cream There’s too much make-up on the waitress So many places she’d rather be She’s a masterpiece of abject sorrow Her demons will never set her free She moves around tables taking orders She moves around a broken dream I’ll take my coffee black, no sugar I’ll take my coffee black, no cream She won’t listen to the wisdom of the young She really doesn’t care what those boys think There’s a secret buried behind her eyes Runs darker and deeper than her ink Just more soul food for the demons of this underworld Veiled behind a curtain of rising steam She pours my coffee black, no sugar She pours my coffee black, no cream I like my coffee black, no sugar I like my coffee black, no cream ‘After The Storm’ by Carole Kelly, narrated by Shane Porteous. A watery morning sun did little to warm Seth's frozen hands, as he worked his way methodically along the beach. Here, on the South Wexford coastline of Eire, denoted as one of the most dangerous stretches of coastline in Europe, violent storms were common. Last night, however, had been one of the worst that Seth had experienced, in the twenty six years he'd been living on this isolated beach. Enormous piles of driftwood, seaweed and other debris littered the sand, like giant's discarded toys, and made it difficult for him to pick his way through to the shoreline, so that he could assess his beachcombing possibilities. Seth relied on the sea to provide him with almost everything he needed, to survive in his solitary existence. Driftwood provided shelter and fuel for his fire; seaweed, shellfish and ocean fish gave nourishment; and occasional cargo from sundered ships supplied welcome bottles of alcohol, or crusty unidentifiable items that could be sold to gullible visitors. It was the latter, that he was now hoping to find. Pickings after a storm were always richer, and there was a café in the nearby village that had begun to sell beachcomber artefacts, alongside its locally produced preserves and amateurish watercolours. Seth had no interest in homemade art, but was happy to provide the materials in exchange for a few luxuries. His multiple scruffy layers were insufficient to deflect the effects from the piercing wind that blew across the Irish Sea, and ruffled his long scraggly beard. Occasional handfuls of stinging hail lashed his craggy face, and mindful of the hot soup waiting for him back in his shack, Seth decided that he would just check out the tangle of kelp washed up on the shoreline, before returning. At first, he thought that an unfortunate seal had been caught in the storm, and beached up amongst the other sea debris. Then a brief ray of sun illuminated pale skin, and a snarl of long flaxen hair that couldn't possibly belong to a seal. Breaking into an awkward run, Seth quickly reached the side of a young naked girl. Her splayed limbs were entangled with seaweed, and her dark eyes fixed on the horizon. Sure that she was dead, Seth searched for her pulse and was shocked to find a weak response. He hastily removed his top coat and wrapped it around her cold body, then carried her back to his shack where she could be warmed. There seemed to be no point in worrying about possible injuries, when hypothermia was the biggest risk. Cosily wrapped in grubby blankets, and as close to the fire as possible, the girl lay unmoving, with only shallow breaths to indicate she was alive. Seth frowned, as he regarded her still body. He had no desire to involve anyone else in his life, or to bring strangers into his property, but retained enough shreds of human decency to feel obligated to care for the forlorn waif who'd washed up on his beach. He decided to wait until tomorrow, before making a decision about her welfare. By the evening, the girl had begun to regain consciousness. Tossing restlessly in her covers, she disturbed Seth from a light doze by the fire, and he rose stiffly to attend her. As he bent over her, the girl opened her eyes with a startled seabird cry, and quickly sat up. Her enormous dark eyes watched him warily. Seth backed away and filled a mug with soup, before carefully offering it to her. "Do you have a name? Someone must be missing a pretty little thing like you." The girl took the mug and looked at it doubtfully, before placing it to one side. She shook her head, and placing her fingers to her blue tinged lips, appeared to indicate that she couldn’t speak. "That's good soup, I made it myself! Get it down you and we'd better get you back where you belong." Seth said gruffly. He turned away to find something suitable for the girl to wear, and was caught by surprise as she flung herself at his feet. The young, almost childlike female, woke up instincts that he'd thought to have been long lost, and he carefully wrapped her in another layer of blankets, before sitting down with the girl cradled in his arms. She nestled trustingly against his chest, her long fair hair drying into rippling waves that reminded Seth of the seafoam etched into the sand, after storms had passed. A mournful wind howled all night outside the dilapidated shack, but failed to keep either of them awake. When he woke again, his arms were empty and there was no sign of his mysterious visitor. Unsure whether to be relieved or disappointed, Seth set about building up his fire and boiling water for tea. Afterwards, he intended to resume the beachcombing that had been interrupted the previous day. With the proceeds from his haul, he planned to buy more of the cheap whisky that he favoured for his solitary drinking. Stepping outside, to knock out the dregs of his black tea, Seth was momentarily blinded by the sun glittering off the white sand. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his work worn hands, and turned away to pick up his sack. When he looked again, he saw the naked girl standing at the water's edge, tangled locks streaming in the breeze, and gazing out to sea. He hesitantly called to her, unsure if she was deaf as well as unable to speak, but she responded by turning to face him. Her dark eyes were filled with so much anguish, that Seth automatically went to her, and enfolded her in his arms. "I don't know where you've come from or why you're still here, but you're gonna freeze if you don't get some clothes on." He led her back into the shack and handed her some ragged pants and a threadbare jumper. When she regarded them with confusion, he dressed her like a doll, and settled her by the fire, before coaxing her into swallowing some of the leftover soup. Dressed and fed, the girl looked less waif-like, but failed to respond to any of Seth's questions. "Are you a bit simple darling? Or whatever the correct term is now. I don't know what to do with you but if you're gonna stay around I need to give you a name." He searched around in the tattered rags of his classical education. "I'll call you Cliodhna, Goddess of the sea." The girl, now Cliodhna, appeared to accept her new name equitably, and responded to it whenever Seth called her. As the days passed, an unspoken agreement was made between them that Seth would refrain from trying to make her leave, and she'd hide herself on the rare occasion that other people visited their beach. She still ate very little, and seemed to be unconcerned about wearing the tattered clothes that Seth had provided. Left to herself, she remained naked, and apparently impervious to the bone chilling cold. She spent most of her day wandering the shoreline and gazing wistfully out to sea, occasionally calling out with a harsh seagull sound, that remained unanswered. Unsettled, and unable to focus on his usual routines, Seth began drinking more heavily and passed his days sprawled in front of his shack, bottle in hand and furtively watching Cliodhna. His protective instincts, towards the girl whom he'd initially seen as an injured child, were now superseded by the realisation that Cliodhna was a young woman. At night he lay sleepless, listening to her soft breathing, and wondering how'd she respond if he approached her. In the end, the decision was made for him as he woke one night from a drunken stupor to find her naked body astride his own, as she rode herself to a climax. After making her strange call, Cliodhna collapsed onto his chest, and Seth wasted no time in flipping her over to find his own release. After that, she spent every night in his bed, and Seth frequently woke to find her already seeking her own satisfaction, before allowing him to find his own. Afterwards, she'd lie sprawled over his body, and he'd taste her silent salty tears trickling down his face. A cold showery spring eventually gave way, to an unusually warm summer. Cliodhna showed no signs of wanting to leave. She learned how to find the precious artefacts that Seth needed for bartering, and took over preparation of their meagre meals. For the first time in many years, Seth began to think more clearly. Less befuddled with alcohol, his brain slowly began to regain some of the sharpness, for which he'd been acclaimed as a younger man. Besotted by his sea gifted lover, he was also aware that there was something almost alien about her nature. Cliodhna rarely ate, but her slender figure showed no signs of malnutrition. In the warmer weather, Seth gave up forcing her to wear clothes, but her unprotected skin remained pale and almost luminous, like the inside of a shell. Her dark eyes were haunted and frequently tear filled, but Cliodhna gave no answers to Seth's tender enquiries. Summer passed into a brief autumn that quickly blustered into winter. The days became too cold for foraging, and they spent most of their time contentedly huddled around the fire. Seth liked to read aloud, and Cliodhna appeared to take pleasure in listening to his voice, as he re-explored the metaphysical poets favoured by his youthful self. Cosy in their fusty shelter, the days passed pleasantly. The winter nights brought about an increasing restlessness in Cliodhna, who frequently disappeared once Seth was sleeping, and he'd awaken cold and bereft. One particularly wild night, he was woken by her damp salty body snuggling up to his own, and realised that she'd been in the sea. Alarmed, he lit the kerosene lamp to look at her more closely, and for the first time noticed the slight swell of her normally flat stomach, and her heavier breasts. Pregnancy wasn't something that Seth had even considered, and he was annoyed with himself for not taking precautions. He suggested to Cliodhna that he introduce her to someone who'd be able to care for her and the baby, far better than he could, but that resulted in more tears and hysterical clinging, that left him feeling like a monster for suggesting it. Over the next few months, Cliodhna's belly quickly expanded, and by late summer she was heavy and ripe. Seth feared that the baby would arrive earlier than he'd calculated, and watched with concern, as she made herself a nest from blankets and clothes, that she rarely left. Seth was unable to imagine how they would manage with a baby in his draughty shack, with no fresh water or power. Overwhelmed by the need to make plans, he procrastinated, and once again took refuge in a bottle. One blustery autumn day, Seth had started drinking early, and it took some time for him to realise that Cliodhna was in labour. Her strange seagull calls were becoming more frantic with each contraction. Seth stumbled to her side, unsure how to help, and cursing his stupidity that had meant they were unprepared. The labour lasted for hours, leaving Cliodhna weaker with each contraction that wracked her fragile body. Finally, after a last despairing cry, she gave birth to a slippery slithering thing that breathed only minutes, before passing away. Seth desperately tried to stop the bleeding, and tried not to look too closely at his deformed child. Cliodhna refused to let him remove her baby, and clutching it to her breasts, she turned to the wall in silence. Anxiously, Seth covered her in blankets and sat watching over her. He eventually fell into an uneasy sleep, but was woken by a cold blast of wind entering his shelter. The makeshift door was open, and he quickly realised that Cliodhna and her baby were gone. Outside, a storm was building over the sea. Flashes of lightning punctuated the black clouds, and thunder echoed around the small bay. The sea tossed restlessly, and spumes of icy water lashed Seth's numb face. There was no sign of Cliodhna. Frantically calling her name, he rushed down the beach, unconsciously seeking out the place where he'd originally found her. A brilliant streak of lightning lit up the night, and allowed him to see Cliodhna standing at the edge of the sea, waves curling around her bare feet. She still held her baby in her outstretched arms, but as he desperately called to her, a huge wave reared up and covered them both. Seth watched in horror as it retreated, leaving Cliodhna standing alone with empty arms. For a moment, it seemed as though she was going to return to him, but then with an anguished cry, she dived into the churning water and disappeared from view. Seth spent hours searching the beach and hoarsely shouting her name. By the time the storm had blown itself out, and dawn was tentatively breaking over the sullen sea, he acknowledged that she was gone. Returned to the sea from which she'd come, leaving him locked in inconsolable grief. He sat for a while, quietly watching the seafoam washing up on the sand. In his exhaustion, he fancied that it still resembled Cliodhna's flaxen hair, and the distant sound of doleful seagulls only reminded him further, of all that he had lost.