Roof (Notevember 2021, #13)
The giant turtle let out something between a groan and a hiss. She was none too pleased, and more than willing to show it. Millicent nearly fell off, and had to cling to the beast’s neck to not be dunked in the sea.
“Woah, steady on, Mawn!” she exclaimed. “It’s just a bit of netting, girl. We’ll have it off you in no time.”
Millicent sighed deeply, and not for the first time today. Mawn was a lovely House Turtle most of the time, but lately she had been getting in trouble alarmingly often. Being placid and easy to placate were the hallmarks of her kind, and her owner had few enough complaints on that front. But did the turtle have to be so inattentive to all the flotsam and other debris they were passing through?
“How ever did you manage to get your fat neck through the only hole large enough for it to fit through?” asked Millicent in frustration.
Mawn gave a sort of hiccough as an answer. It could mean all sorts of things, but right now Millicent felt it meant her companion was taking umbrage.
“Yes, yes, I know your neck isn’t fat. And you couldn’t very well have put your neck through a hole too small for it – that goes without saying. But it’s like you’re actively trying to get stuck. There!” She had finally cut the last of the ghost net off Mawn’s neck. As it came free, Millicent tossed the net away from their path with as much force as she could muster, nearly putting her in the ocean again.
Mawn turned her gaze slowly toward the remaining tangle of blue fibre. She looked toward it almost longingly.
“What are you doing, girl? No. NO. Don’t you dare play fetch with that.”
The turtle let out another, slightly different hiccough, which Millicent knew translated to a petulant “fine!” of the sort a child might utter.
“A little gratitude would be in order, I think,” she told Mawn, who – of course – showed none. Still, the turtle showed visible signs of relief, so her mood was likely to improve imminently. Mawn was already speeding up (not that a House Turtle was quick even at the best of times), and finding her correct heading once again.
“I’ll just get started on breakfast, then, shall I?” said Millicent, and headed back inside the shell.
They had been travelling together for nearly three years now. Buying the House Turtle had taken almost all of Millicent’s savings, but it had been worth it. Sure, Mawn was a bit on the small side, considering her pedigree. Then again, she was young, and likely to grow at least a little larger. Not that Millicent needed the space, except perhaps to store more souvenirs in the years to come. Besides, Mawn’s youth had meant that bonding with her was easier, and she was more energetic than a veteran animal with more training would have been. Most importantly, though, Mawn was low maintenance. She wasn’t picky with her food, rarely complained, and didn’t need any special tending besides the usual shell polish and barnacle removal.
She was much like her owner, in that sense. Millicent had no more interest in luxury than in a sedentary lifestyle. The nomadic life on the waves suited her fine, with nothing but her House Turtle for company and shelter. What most people only figure out much later in life, Millicent had realized already in her early thirties: don’t waste your time on things, places or people you don’t love.
The former two were easy enough to part with; possessions she considered more a burden than a necessity (with few exceptions), and she had yet to find a place that felt like her own. The latter, however, had proven to be a repeated stumbling block and source of misery. Her time spent in love only turned out to be wasted when that love revealed itself to be one-sided – and it kept happening. After a while, Millicent stopped trying. The places and the people only sparked bitter memories, and she knew she needed to get away.
Her family (and they were a set of people she was all too happy to leave behind) told her to get a dog. “Their love is unconditional,” they said. In the end, Millicent combined their notion with her own, and purchased Mawn from the best House Turtle breeder on the island.
Mawn turned out to be her salvation, and Millicent loved her for it. She was kind to the turtle, always, for which Mawn loved her in return. They were less owner and pet, and more like travelling companions. Hot hearth, warm heart, and a mode of transportation to anywhere the sea touched – the turtle was everything the woman needed, and they both knew how lucky they were to have found each other.
Once Mawn had been fed her share of the fish, Millicent grabbed her own plate of smoked mackerel sandwiches and a cup of lemon tea, and climbed up on the shell roof. She sat down with her back against the chimney and her legs stretched out toward the House Turtle’s tail. The sun was still rising behind them, promising a warm day.
“Hey, flipper-girl?” Millicent said. “We’re getting kinda low on water. A few days, maybe. When a large enough island comes along, steer us to shore, would you?”
Mawn let out something akin to a bark. It always meant the same thing: “Land, ho!”
This surprised her passenger. That they were close to terra firma was expected, considering both the frequency of floating refuse and the occasional cry of seagulls. They should not have been this close, however. Maybe the turtle was mistaken? Mawn’s sight was not exactly her sharpest instrument, and she tended to rely on other senses – senses unavailable to humans – for navigation.
Millicent set her breakfast down and stood up. Turning to face the direction they were heading, she scanned the horizon for darker spots just above the vast water. Usually, this would involve squinting, but this time she needed to put no such strain on her eyes.
In front of them, at a guess barely two nautical miles distant, rose a wall of sheer cliffs. They were a deep burgundy color, with horizontal streaks of black or maybe dark grey in regular intervals from top to bottom. These were certainly unlike any rocks the pair had encountered before. In addition, they looked nothing like the way the local coastline was described in the travel journals Millicent had read.
They couldn’t be off course – Mawn’s inner compass had never failed before, and the small islets they had skirted in the past week were a perfect fit with the sea chart Millicent consulted on a daily basis. So what was this out-of-place behemoth doing here? The turtle seemed hesitant, slowing down slightly, but still swimming straight for the reddish mass.
Millicent squinted her eyes after all. It appeared as though the cliffs were moving, bobbing up and down in the water – but surely that was a mirage? Such phenomena were common enough on the sea. She headed back inside to fetch a large pair of binoculars, then leaned against the chimney for support as she directed her amplified gaze to the unexpected land.
She hadn’t been wrong. The cliffs were indeed moving. Up and down, up and down like the largest of oceangoing ships being gently rocked. And there, on the top, there were smaller instances of movement. People! And not just on top – along the entire cliff face, too. Surely those were people milling about like ants? What was this thing?
Millicent thought she could make out music, now. Snippets of it were being carried on the wind, then cut off as it shifted. It sounded upbeat, with a bouncy rhythm. As they drew near, she spotted patterned domes of olive green, brown and yellow bobbing gently along the side of the gigantic vessel. There was no mistaking those for anything but House Turtles. Mawn had noticed them too, and vocalized her excitement in a small symphony of chirps and grunts.
They were within speaking distance now, and getting closer by the minute. People walking along gangways and bridges – the dark streaks from before – seemed to pay them no mind, except for a portly man, who stopped and waved.
“Ho, there!” he roared. He looked very official in a drab uniform and hat of matching colour. “New arrivals, eh?”
“That we are,” Millicent answered him. “But where are we?”
“Oh!” The man flashed a broad, toothy grin. “First time, or just lost?”
“Never been here before, but as to the second item – I’m not entirely sure just yet.”
“Well, lost or no, may I have the pleasure of welcoming you to our fine establishment! Please, secure your turtle and come aboard. You’ll find everything you need and want here, and then some.”
“Quite the advertisement.”
“And a true one, miss. Trust me – you are in for a treat. Several, in fact. Welcome to The Floating Paradise!”