For World Sea Turtle Day, here’s an excerpt from my YA fantasy novel Painting Sunsets:
“You startled me,” said Lissa.
“Talking animals can have that effect,” said the turtle.
“True. Although it seems to be unusually common around here.”
“That depends on whom you talk to. Some of us are usually uncommon.”
Lissa examined her new acquaintance. His shell was almost flat and very smooth, and his legs, not legs really but more like fins on a fish, were waving slowly in circular motions, as he hovered in front of her.
“I have never seen a turtle underwater,” said Lissa.
“Are you often underwater?” said the turtle.
“Not really,” Lissa said.
“That could explain it,” said the turtle.
“I suppose so,” Lissa agreed, wondering that she had not thought of it first.
“There are many turtles here,” he said in a lecturing tone that Lissa found oddly familiar. “Many ages ago, my ancestors left the land and returned to the sea, as you are doing now.”
“What? Oh no. This is an accident. At least I think it was an accident. I fell.”
“You may have fallen but it was no accident. Of that I am sure.”
“Thank you for that clarification,” said Lissa. “Once I figure out what it means, I’m sure it will be very helpful.”
“You are welcome, Lissa,” said the turtle.
“You know my name!”
“We were told you would be coming. My name is Pri-Mer. Are you Day Crew or Night Crew?” he asked, swimming in circles around her, so that she had to keep turning around herself to see him. Much more of this and she was going to get dizzy.
“I don’t know. I don’t know what that means,” Lissa said.
Pri-Mer stopped and floated just in front of her eyes for a second, nodding to himself, then began slowly drifting down.
“All will be made clear in time,” he said.
“You have a way of speaking much and saying little and speaking little and saying much. You aren’t a poet by any chance?”
Pri-Mer settled gracefully in the golden sand and began making angel wings with his legs. Fins. Limbs.
“By any chance I am,” he replied.
“There you go again.”
“Possibly, but here I am.”
Definitely a poet, though Lissa. She had met many, through her father. They were very pleasant people generally, but it was hard to get a straight answer from them. Lissa thought it was because they didn’t see the world in quite the same way. They were outside looking in, instead of inside looking out, like most people.
