"Where the Current Chooses Mercy"

Where the World Watches Back series

WTWWB - Mythic - 02

Once, the Kelpie belonged to wide, open waters—rivers that moved with the rhythm of nature, reflecting sky and stars without interruption. Its song was clear then, haunting, carried easily on the current, a sound that made people stop and listen and follow. The waters changed. They became guided, narrowed, redirected—into canals, into culverts, into the tunnels beneath the city. Rain fell harder here, faster, gathering in places full of concrete instead of grassy shores. The current had to learn new routes. And with it so did the Kelpie. Now it moves through storm drains and busy sewers, its form slipping easily between shadow and reflection. Its mane trails behind it in soft ribbons of color—oil-slick rainbows that catch even the faintest light, turning murky water into something briefly beautiful. It still sings. The song isn’t as clear as it once was, filled with the pollution that surrounds it, but the message is still clear, it is the water and within the water just as it always has been. It hums low through the pipes, echoes gently along flooded curbs, rises just enough to be noticed by those who need it most. Not a call to follow blindly—a way to find a safer path. Because the Kelpie has chosen a different role here. It watches the water when it rises too quickly. It lingers when paths disappear under rain. It learns the rhythms of the city—bringing those who need it towards safety from the floods. And when someone needs it,  The kelpie guides. A subtle current nudging them toward steady ground. A flicker of movement that draws their eye to change direction. A presence that makes the path forward feel traversable. Sometimes people don’t even realize they’ve been helped. They just find themselves out of the flood, out of that moment where everything felt like around them was overwhelming, like they were being pulled under. But some notice. They see the shimmer of color in the water that shouldn’t be there. They hear a thread of song where there should only be silence. They feel that something was moving with them—not against them. The Kelpie doesn’t mind being unseen. It isn’t here to haunt. It’s here to keep things moving—gently, steadily—toward better ground. The city has given it new waters, new challenges, new reasons to stay. And though its song is quieter now, though its world is narrower than it once was. It carries something just as strong as before: A sense of direction. they promise that even in unfamiliar currents, there is a way through. And if you listen closely—past the rush of rain, past the noise of the streets you might hear it, soft and steady, guiding you onward. Not pulling you under helping you find your way back to the surface, and beyond it.

painted on a skateboard

31"h by 8"w