Fiction: Urisk

By Jacqueline Collo

Noun: a creature from Scottish mythology; variation of a water spirit/brownie (fae) that lives near waterfalls and/or ponds—often controlling the water and the surrounding area. These creatures seek human companionship but are often feared for their strange appearance, which is noted to resemble that of a goat god—like Pan—with goat legs or horns.

The sun reflected off her auburn hair in waves; the curls draping themselves over her shoulders and down her back. Perhaps it could have served as a blanket in the biting air if it were not for the fact that it was coated with flecks of white. She trod slowly, feet rising and sinking into snow piled high against her ankles with each step, toward a small pond.

It was a peculiar pond. Not the water itself, but rather, the area around it. Snow slowly died away in the surrounding radius— bleeding into fresh grass with colorful flowers spread generously about. Time itself seemed irrelevant to the small body of water and the oddity of it all scared her, forcing her hands to nervously toy with the crossed rope handles of her tote. Even as she shook in the cold, her nervous ticks did not stop her, however, from keeping the top of the bag secured tightly, so as to ensure that the pages within did not find themselves damaged from the torrential weather surrounding her. 

A lone figure sat before her, staring deep into the pond water that lay in front of them both. It shuffled, leaning forward, and letting its fingers run against the top of the water, scooping upwards. As her cold feet met with the warm grass, the water drizzled between its fingers- falling inevitably back into the pond. It seemed alone, she thought, and nobody ought to be alone. Not when the cold had the habit of driving most people apart.

“Excuse me,” she called to it, voice raspy with disuse. “May I sit with you by the pondside until the snow stops?”

She froze as it turned. A man-like creature sat in front of her, dirty and tired. Its face was long, shockingly so, as was its nose. While it had lost most of its white hair, she could still see some on its head and there was a small patch of hair on its chin. It was then, she noticed, that the hair was gray- not white- and only seemed so because its worn skin was filthy, covered in dirt and grime.

The odd warmth that the air surrounding her possessed as she stepped further into it did nothing to stop the chill that ran down her spine as the creature stood before her, examining her as her voice trailed off. It was ugly; dreadfully skinny with slanted ears and the legs of a goat—covered in rough fur, only slightly clean in the places the water had trickled onto it in its time at the pondside.

A moment of silence, before it was broken by a deep hum—a sound which filled the air around her and came deep from within its chest. She stumbled backward, away from the noise, and the cold snow which brushed against her ankles and stole the warmth that had been running through her body startled her further. She gasped, eyes flickering down to the snow before flashing quickly back up to the scene before her. 

In turn, it frowned and turned back to settle once again by the pondside. Silence. Her ankle burned from the snow biting at it and her whole body ached from the way she trembled, even after only a few brief moments in the cold. She held the tote of books close to her chest as she examined the pondside once more—closer, this time—before choosing the respite against the harsh winds. She cleared her throat and tried again, pressing forward onto the grass a second time and setting her cargo down gently next to a ring of small mushrooms as she spoke.

“I’m quite cold, you see. My legs are numb from this dreadful weather and the snow has made it hard to see my path; I fear I will lose my way. A small break before heading the rest of the way home is all that I need.”

She sat without waiting for a response and it flinched, obviously startled. The odd pair sat at the quaint pond in silence for a few moments before it broke the quiet, watching her as she touched the surface of the water gently and then plunged her hand into its warmth with childlike wonder shining in her eyes.

“Aren’t you afraid?” it said, its question so quiet that she barely heard it speak.

“Winter is very long and very cold, sir. I think the warmth we so desperately seek during the snow is best found with a friend. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Jacqueline Collo is currently a senior at the University of Pittsburgh studying English Writing with a focus in fiction. Post-graduation, she plans to pursue an MFA in writing and a career as a literary agent. She is interested in exploring the morally gray character, both as a reader and writer. Her poem, Limerence, and short story, The House of Mirrors, can be found in Northampton Community College’s Literary Magazine, The Laconic.