The Lady’s Lullaby

About the Story

This little short story is probably a rather strange interpretation of the song that inspired it. While listening to a radio show of a friend of mine, I heard a beautifully written song by Zoë Wren. The song is one of the tracks on her album which can be purchased on Bandcamp. The track which is titled Silkie Lullaby can also be found on my Jaidie’s Favourites spotify playlist.

The Lady’s Lullaby.

I had a child once; he came from the ocean. I found him in a basket of seaweed that lay upon the sparkling sands of the beach I call my home. We lived in a little hut on the edge of the beach surrounded by a green wall of forest where I thought him all he needed to learn during the day. By night, we sat by the fire I would light on the sand and I would sing him a lullaby that my mother sang to me. He grew from a little boy into a handsome, strapping young man who craved the tastes of adventure. He began to ask questions about lands unknown…questions for which I had no answers.

I watched as he built a boat and made plans for setting sail. I watched as he gathered the necessary materials he would need for his journey. I watched and could do nothing to stop him. While he worked, I sang our lullaby, giving him something to take on his travels while never forgetting his home.

On the dawn of his leaving, I hug my son, a man who smelt of salt and brine. As he boarded his boat, he gave me one last message. “Think of me my mother dear, as I venture far from hear. Your son I may no longer be, now I’m a sailor meant for sea.”

I watched as he pushed his boat out into the water and climbed aboard with oars in hand. As he set sail, I sang the lullaby with my face lifted to the heavens. With my heart full of emotion, I continued to sing though I knew he could no longer hear her voice.


They say that if you travel past the Sule Skerry you will still hear the lady’s lullaby. If you look carefully, you might even see a sailboat passing by, a young man at the helm.


One thought on “The Lady’s Lullaby

  1. Hello, I heard about your perpetual inability to find work. Listen, I understand: being a useless, no-skilled, fat suit of moving meat would make it hard to find work. But, if I may, let me proffer a suggestion: you should go into fettish curement treatment. I mean as a specialist. Imagine how much scaring you could impose on a human brain with that cottage cheese anus, or those hairy armpits with the greasy underarm hairm or the feet dripping in sweat and toe jam from just a night’s sleep.


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