My husband’s first wife was a merrow. She was a perfect wife in every way, the true lady of the house, the proper mother of my children, my husband’s one true love. 

     Being a fisherman he spent many days on these rocky shores. On one such day he saw her. She was brushing her hair and enjoying the light of the sun near to him. She was positively radiant, a truly beautiful young lady. Despite her hair too green, her teeth too sharp, her fingers too webbed, he knew she was perfect for him. He knew about the merrow already, everyone in town had at least heard of them. He knew the best way to make her into his wife. 

      Without making a sound he snuck up behind her to where her red cap was sitting on the rocks. The cap held their power to live underwater, and without it he knew she would be forced to stay on land. Only after grabbing it did he call out to her.

      She wept, he said. She cried for a long time upon turning around and seeing her red cap in his hands. Despite that, she did not refuse when he asked her to marry him. He let her finish combing her hair. She also said goodbye to the ocean and to its inhabitants before turning to follow him. 

      He walked her into town, her eyes never leaving the red cap he held in his hands. He begged any priest there to marry the two of them that very same day. He held the cap tight the entire wedding. 

      They walked together, hand in hand like the beautifully married couple they were, back away from town to the lonely shore where he made his home. He spent hours and days agonizing over the perfect place to hide the red cap. He spent days and months moving it all over the house so that she would never come close to finding it. It was to protect her, he said. If she ever found the cap she would be compelled to return to the cold unforgiving sea.

      She was the best wife he could have ever asked for. She was perfectly dutiful and obedient to him. She seemed to grow to love the home she made. Together they had two lovely children, a boy and a girl. She was a perfect and attentive mother to them for years. She loved them deeply. 

      One day he was called to visit a family member of his in another village. He felt it best to leave his merrow wife and their two children at home. He would only be gone for a few days, he swore, he would return quickly to them.

      She was cleaning the house when she pulled a fishing net down from where it was hanging on the wall. Behind it there must have been some loose plank of wood or some other imperfection because she tore into the wall like a ravenous animal. And when she found her cap hidden in the wall she left. Despite how much she loved her children, despite how perfect of a homemaker she was she left without a second to think about it. 

      When my husband returned to the house he found no one but his two children, crying and hungry from the days of neglect. He searched the entire countryside, far and wide, in hopes of finding her, but deep down, he knew she had returned to the ocean. 

      My own marriage to him was far less romantic and dramatic than her’s. I was growing older, as were my parents, and I knew eventually I would need to find someone to support me. When I was younger I got plenty of attention but I naively refused all of it. I was hoping for some sailor I met to take me away on grand adventures with him so I would not be trapped with the same boring people in the same boring town. That predictably went nowhere so I found myself alone. There was no motivation for love in my marriage. I knew with each passing year it would become more difficult for me so I accepted the next proposal I got. 

      He was also not particularly motivated by love, he told me so himself. His true love was still alive, out there somewhere, under the ocean just waiting for him. He did need someone to watch the children though, and enough time had passed that he would not be faulted for remarrying. It was simply a matter of convenience for him. 

      His house was boring. It was closer to the coast than to town so there were few neighbors to talk to. He spent days working and was often quiet at night. The kids were very sweet but they were also quite young. Weeks would pass without me seeing a single adult who wanted to have a simple conversation with me. It was quiet. 

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      I tried my best to keep up with the house and the children. It never seemed to be enough though. His first wife was better for them and I would never measure up to that. There was a persistent foul smell of fish and ocean that never went away. The children were keenly aware that I was not their mother so they sometimes were disrespectful to me. I kept my head up, I was determined to be good for my family.

      He met another merrow in his life. This was well after we were married.

     He was out one day when he saw the unmistakable red cap and seaweed hair. Thinking it was his lost wife he chased after it with ferocity, following it to a nearby cave. Rather than the beauty and grace of his lost wife that he expected, he saw a hideous beast climb out of the water. It was a male merrow, with sharper teeth than my husband expected. 

     Him and the merrow soon got talking. Them mentioned the many ships that traveled past the area, carrying expensive items from far away lands. Both of them had a habit, they noted, of going out into the waters after bad storms and looking for any such luxuries that may still be in the water.

     The merrow invited him under the ocean for a drink. My husband refused twice explaining how I was at home waiting for him and how he would be unable to survive under the water for so long. The merrow reassured him that with a second magic red cap on his head he would be unable to drown, causing my husband to agree to go with him. 

     The merrow’s home was completely dry despite being so far under the water. The two of them drank and ate strange foods from underwater, or from sunken ships. They were talking like old friends about every aspect of their lives. 

     After many hours had passed the merrow asked him if he wanted to see his collection of treasures. My husband was curious enough and agreed. There he saw many gold and jewel trinkets but most notably he saw rows and rows of empty pots. 

     “Careful not to open them,” the merrow explained, “when some sailors drown at sea their souls get lost down here. They don’t like cold water very much so I give them a warm place to swim into for a little while. If you open them, they might swim away and get lost again.”

     My husband was of course horrified at this fish monster keeping souls from being able to get into heaven so he resolved himself to help them. When next the merrow offered to bring him under the waves to drink he agreed, and he agreed every other time after that. Each time he went and distracted the merrow, giving him enough time to open all of the pots and free the souls trapped inside. 

     Soon enough he was going every night to free trapped souls. He insisted, when he was getting home late at night smelling of alcohol, that he was drinking with the merrow. He had to keep going to save all of the souls that the merrow was keeping captive. He had to go away again the next night and the night after that, because he was a hero. 

     It was around that time that my boredom with my life started to grow more relentless. If I didn’t know better I would say it drove me insane. I began talking out loud to myself, just to hear anyone’s voice. I began to imagine seeing people out in the waters. I could imagine them talking to me, or singing to me, trying to get me to join them.

     The children were growing older. Soon enough they would leave home, find work, get married. They hardly needed me so much anymore.

     I didn’t want to be like his first wife who left without a second thought. I spent days and days deliberating. I knew the kids would miss me, and I hoped he would too in a strange way. It would be worth it though, to get out of there, to go somewhere, anywhere else. 

     So I ran off one night. I took up shelter in a cave near the coast for just one night. I had planned to go from there to town the next day, hopefully before my husband could tell them I had run off without permission, there I would gather supplies for getting to another town and hope I could make it. I never assumed he would pursue me with the same ferocity he pursued his first wife after I left. He found me there that night. 

     He apologized, begged me not to abandon him and the family so callously as she had done. He begged me to return with him. I told him I couldn’t, I couldn’t go back to that place. 

     He accused me of being insane, said he saw merrow calling to me from the ocean one day and that they had to have driven me mad and I needed to go back with him. I refused. 

     He pushed me out of the cave and into the ocean. 

     I heard once that merrows are actually people who died in the ocean. It’s very rare but sometimes when a person drowns, a cap gets put on their head, and they get to live a little longer under the water. 

     It’s cold and dark around me, my lungs are burning for air, but I am not afraid. It feels like there is someone else in the water with me. I can almost see her floating there in front of me. It feels like someone gently placing something on my head, the pain goes away.