Erotica Harem

Title of Book: Selkie Tears

Chapter #: Chapter 1

Author: Dragon (Cassi)


My comments are meant in the spirit of helping us all become better as artists; never meant to discourage or demean anyone. Use what you like and toss the rest!) !!

Plot: Sean Declan arrives at his ex-wife’s home on the beach to find Aran sleeping; he’d rushed to her aide when she called because she’s experiencing mental instability.

Style & Voice Third person from Sean’s pov – I made a few comments about using pronouns where appropriate to keep the reader clear on character actions.

Referencing All seems fine here; I love Sean’s accent!

Scene/Setting: Aran’s cottage on the beach; the small details yhou provide are perfect to draw the reader in and set him/her down in the plot; I like the rather comfortable feeling Sean has with Aran.

Characters: Sean and ex-wife, Aran. Both characters are immediately likeable; Aran is suffering from nightmares and Sean is still in love with her; I just love these two characters!

Grammar: Made corrections accordingly; suggestions

Just My Personal Opinion: I remember this story well and think you’ve captured Sean and Aran perfectly, especially the emotional connection Sean has with Aran and a “duty” to ensure she is safe (obviously, because he still loves her); a perfect combination!


Sean Declan pulled his Land Rover up to the one already sitting in the muddy drive. Sick with worry that she’d hurt herself this time, he’d driven all night to reach the remote Irish farmstead. Shutting off the lights, he sat for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the gray morning light.

Getting out of the vehicle, he grabbed the duffel he’d packed in a hurry, glanced at the dark house, and made his way to the door.

Knowing that the old wooden floor would creak under his feet, he dropped the bag inside the entryway, and tried to slip quietly through the house. The kitchen was a mess, dirty dishes piled at the sink and empty food containers lay strewn on the counters. Stepping into the living room, he found a dying fire in the fireplace. Unlike the kitchen, the room was tidy. A few papers were strewn here and there, and several manuscripts lay on the table near the big window overlooking the sea.

Taking the stairs, he had to hold himself back from leaping up them to see if she was all right. The early morning light turned bathed?) the hallway a pale gray and colors began to emerge. A hint of sunlight shone through the bathroom window as he passed. When he reached her bedroom, he (Sean) took a deep breath, and gently pushed the door open.

Aran slept soundly, the blankets barely covering her lithe body (or frame) . Sean moved across the room to the bed, and pulled the covers up over her. Since he’d met her (Aran) , he’d had no idea how to help her out of the dark pit he found her in at times. The only thing he’d found that consoled her was to move her out here, away from the hustle and bustle of daily life. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he stroked her hair and watched her sleep.

After the sun was up enough to light the house, he made his way down to the kitchen. He’d clean up for her and make some breakfast. He was certainly glad that he’d had solar power and a generator put in. There was even a satellite so Aran could use her computer or the phone. Otherwise, there would be no power out here at all.

As he scrubbed the dishes, he remembered the fight he’d had with her over moving here.

“I don’t want ya out there, it’s too remote. What if something happens to ya?” he’d asked her, his Irish brogue heavy with anger.

“What do you care? You have her, now. Just let me go. Do what you need to make the house mine. I don’t want to stay here anymore. I can’t deal with all the people. Please, Sean.”

Her pleading made him give in and he had bought the place. The ancient farmstead had belonged to her family for centuries, until their lawyer decided to sweep it from under Aran’s feet. He’d done that by declaring her unfit to manage the estate. After some footwork, Sean found out that the bastard had sold it to a vacation company who rented out cottages. They were all too happy to let it go, stating it was {c} way (far) too remote for their clients. In this way, he’d given Aran back a part of her heritage.

Collette hadn’t liked that he (Sean) spent so much money on his ex. She didn’t understand the bond they had. He’d been stupid to cheat on Aran. What was worse, he’d done it (betrayed her) while she’d been in the hospital after trying to cut her wrists.

Drying his hands on the dishtowel, he started gathering items for a hearty breakfast. If the mess in the kitchen was any indication, Aran hadn’t been eating well or that much at all . There’d been more wasted food on the plates than eaten.

Soon, eggs, sausage and potatoes sizzled in the pan and the kettle began boiling. Sean stared out the window toward the sea. She’s always had an affinity for the water.

“I didn’t expect you so soon,” Aran’s voice came to him, soft as silk.

He turned from the window to find her standing in the doorway. Her gentle, hazel eyes harbored dark circles beneath them and her short, chestnut hair stuck up at odd angles. “You sounded like ya needed me in a hurry. I didna wanna wait.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Why don’t you go sit in the livin’ room and I’ll bring ya some breakfast.” He rushed her out of the kitchen, not wanting to hear her say – take you away from Collette. A sharp pang of guilt shot through him every time he heard those words from her mouth. Whenever he came out here, her apology was the same.

The kettle screeched and the smell of burning food made him turn back to the stove. Rescuing breakfast, he placed it (their meal) on two plates. He found a teapot, and prepared the tea. Carrying a tray out into the living room where Aran rested on the couch. He set the tray on an ottoman.

Settling himself on the floor next to the sofa, he poured them each a cup of tea and handed her a plate.

“Was she mad?” she asked around a mouthful of egg.

“Didna tell her where I was goin’,” he answered, watching her eat without any enthusiasm.

Aran nodded and took another bite.

They ate in silence for a few moments before he (Sean) spoke again. “They’re back, aren’t they? The dreams?” The bad times seemed to have a cycle coinciding with them. The doctors had told him if he could figure it out, they would have better chance of controlling her deep depression.

Refusing to acknowledge him, she (Aran) placed her plate aside. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

“Look at me, Aran. They are, aren’t they?” He moved to kneel in front of her. Lifting her chin, he made her look at him. Tears shimmered in her eyes.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He moved her plate to the tray and sat next to her, placing an arm around her. She leaned into his embrace. Resting his chin on the top of her head, he held her. He clasped his hand around her ankle feeling the braided leather band with black stones woven into it there. He smiled, knowing she’d never taken it off. It’d been his first gift to her. “You still wear this old thing?” he whispered, fingering the jewelry.

“You always said, give Aran a piece of leather and stones, she’ll be happy. It makes me think of you.” She gazed at him, the tears still shining in her eyes.

Losing himself in the moment, he almost kissed her. Jesus Christ, what are you doin’, Sean? He cleared his throat and broke from the embrace. Gathering their plates up in a rush, he carried the tray back into the kitchen and set it on the counter. He leaned against the sink, trying to regain his composure.

“Sean?” She called from the living room, her voice growing closer as she entered the kitchen. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so much trouble. Maybe you should go on home. I’ll be ok. Dafydd will be by in the next day or so with supplies.” A peal of thunder shook the house and the wind picked up, rattling the shutters.

“You’re not any trouble. I just bloody, damn well wish I’d been a better husband. I had no right to go fuckin’ around on ya when ya needed me.” His emotions bubbled to the surface. He closed his eyes, and swallowed the lump in his throat. A gust of wind shook the house and rain began to pelt the tin roof. “Doesna look like I’m going much of anywhere. Besides, I just bloody well got here. Come on. Show me what you’ve been workin’ on.” He walked across the kitchen and took her hand.

Aran wrote, painted and sketched as an outlet. Another sore spot between Collette and him was that he made the effort to sell her work. A publisher hadn’t yet picked up the books, but her paintings and sketches sold quite well. He’d hired a friend with a gallery to take her stuff on consignment. Sean saw a cycle in her paintings as well. Their content grew darker when the dreams came. None of her buyers seemed to notice. All they seemed concerned with was that the paintings were Aran Declan originals.
****



That evening, after Aran had gone upstairs to bathe, Sean used the phone to call Collette. He dreaded hearing her voice when he told her where he was. He dialed the number and listened to the rings, five of them before she answered.

“Hey. I--uh--I’m at Aran’s” Cringing at her shrill voice, he listened to her rant.

“What are you doing out there? You come straight home.” He could picture her beautiful features pinched into a hag’s face.

“No, I can’t. I’m not leaving her alone.” They’d had this conversation many times and he tired of it.

“You should find a good Psychiatric hospital and have her committed, Sean. She needs help.” His nostrils flared and he gritted his teeth to keep from yelling at her.

“No, I told you I wouldna do that. Christ, Collette, she’s a human bein’.”

“When will you be home?”

“I don’t know. I’ll call you when I’m on my way.”

“Are you fucking her?” Her voice was so quiet he barely heard her question.

“What’d you just bloody say?”

“I asked if you were fucking her.” This time her voice was cold as ice.

“No, I’m not fuckin’ her. Jesus, what kind of question is that?”

“You were married to her, Sean. You had to have fucked her when you were her husband.”

“Yeah, we were married but that doesn’t mean we’re…” The phone went dead. He wasn’t sure if it was the satellite connection or if she’d actually hung up on him.

Pacing the living room, he stopped to throw another peat brick on the fire, before continuing to wander the same path across the worn throw rug. He fumed over Collette’s words and not for the first time. She always suggested – no, demanded he have Aran committed. She had no qualms about reminding him that he was the only one who could. Aran’s family was dead. What ate at him even more was for her to suggest that he kept his ex-wife so he could come out here and enjoy a good romp.

His mind turned to the wonderful times he and Aran shared when they were married. The sex had been hot. The demure, soft creature she was during the day changed at night when they were alone in the dark.

An ear splitting (hypen) scream halted him in his tracks. A thud above him made him jump and he ran for the stairs. Rushing down the hall to her bedroom, he pushed the door open. She stood in the middle of her bedroom floor, staring at the open window.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?”

“I thought I saw…” She shook her head and turned to him, still wrapped in her bath towel. “I guess it was just the wind in the curtains, but I thought I closed the windows.” She laughed and there was a nervous tremor in it.

“Are you all right then?” He needed to get out of her room and away from the temptation, she offered him. She doesn’t even know I still feel that way about her.

“I don’t know…there was something… Oh, I don’t know.” Her eyes met his and tears shimmered there. So strong, yet so frail, he thought. “Will you stay with me tonight, Sean?”


Jon Michaelsen
http://www.jonmichaelsen.net
http://www.facebook.com/jonmichaelsen
michaelsen@gmail.com


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