Skellig (“The Creature”) Character Analysis

I thought he was dead. He was sitting with his legs stretched out and his head tipped back against the wall. He was covered in dust and webs like everything else and his face was thin and pale. Dead bluebottles were scattered on his hair and shoulders. I shined the flashlight on his white face and his black suit.

I reached across his back and felt something beneath his other shoulder as well. Like thin arms, folded up. Springy and flexible.

[…]

“Who are you?” I said.

The blackbird sang and sang.

“There’s something I could show you as well,” I said. “Like you showed me the owls.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know if it’s true or if it’s a dream.”

“That’s all right. Truth and dreams are always getting muddled.”

“I don’t know what to do,” I said. “The garage is going to bloody collapse. You’re ill with bloody arthritis. You don’t eat properly. I wake up and think of you and there’s other things I need to think about. The baby’s ill and we hope she won’t die but she might. She really might.”

Mina kissed his pale cracked cheek. She stretched her arms once more around his back. Her eyes burned with astonishment and joy.

“Who are you?” she whispered.

He winced with pain.

“My name is Skellig,” he said.

She unfastened the buttons on his jacket. She began to pull his jacket down over his shoulders.

“No,” he squeaked.

“Trust me,” she whispered.

He didn’t move. She slid the sleeves down over his arms, took the jacket right off him. We saw what both of us had dreamed we might see. Beneath his jacket were wings that grew out through rips in his shirt. When they were released, the wings began to unfurl from his shoulder blades.

“But the [archaeopteryx] was a heavy, bony thing. Look at the clumsy, leaden tail. It was capable of nothing but short, sudden flights. From tree to tree, stone to stone. It couldn’t rise and spiral and dance like birds can now.”

[…]

I thought of the baby in my lap, of Skellig slung between Mina and me. I thought of his wings and the baby’s fluttering heart.

“There’s no end to evolution,” said Mina.

She shuffled closer to me.

“We have to be ready to move forward,” she said. “Maybe this is not how we are meant to be forever.”

I felt Skellig and Mina’s hearts beating along with my own. […] All I knew were the hands in mine, the faces turning through the light and the dark, and for a moment I saw ghostly wings at Mina’s back, I felt the feathers and delicate bones rising from my own shoulders, and I was lifted from the floor with Skellig and Mina.

I closed my eyes. I wanted to imagine nothing. The baby was dead. Skellig was gone. The world that was left was ugly, cold, terrifying. The blackbirds squawked and squawked while Mrs. Dando told Mina’s mother about what a great footballer I was, about how I loved having a crazy time with the other boys.

“And then he reached right down with both hands and lifted her up. She was wide awake. They stared and stared into each other’s eyes. He started slowly to turn around…”

“Like they were dancing,” I said.

“That’s right, like they were dancing.

[…]

“And the strangest thing of all was, there were wings on the baby’s back. Not solid wings. Transparent, ghostly, hardly visible, but there they were.”

“You went to my sister,” I said. […] “You made her strong.”

“That one’s glittering with life,” [Skellig said]. “Heart like fire. It was her that gave the strength to me.”

[…]

“But worn out now,” he said. “Exhausted.”

Then he reached out and touched Mina’s face, then mine.

“But I’m getting strong, thanks to the angels and the owls.”

Then the owls flew back in and came to us. They laid something on the floor in front of us. A dead mouse, a tiny dead baby bird. Blood was still trickling through the ripped fur, through the young feathers. […]

“Savages,” I whispered.

“Killers,” said Mina. “Extraordinary presents, eh?”

“They think we’re something like them,” I said.

“Perhaps we are,” said Mina.

I thought he was dead. He was sitting with his legs stretched out and his head tipped back against the wall. He was covered in dust and webs like everything else and his face was thin and pale. Dead bluebottles were scattered on his hair and shoulders. I shined the flashlight on his white face and his black suit.

I reached across his back and felt something beneath his other shoulder as well. Like thin arms, folded up. Springy and flexible.

[…]

“Who are you?” I said.

The blackbird sang and sang.

“There’s something I could show you as well,” I said. “Like you showed me the owls.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know if it’s true or if it’s a dream.”

“That’s all right. Truth and dreams are always getting muddled.”

“I don’t know what to do,” I said. “The garage is going to bloody collapse. You’re ill with bloody arthritis. You don’t eat properly. I wake up and think of you and there’s other things I need to think about. The baby’s ill and we hope she won’t die but she might. She really might.”

Mina kissed his pale cracked cheek. She stretched her arms once more around his back. Her eyes burned with astonishment and joy.

“Who are you?” she whispered.

He winced with pain.

“My name is Skellig,” he said.

She unfastened the buttons on his jacket. She began to pull his jacket down over his shoulders.

“No,” he squeaked.

“Trust me,” she whispered.

He didn’t move. She slid the sleeves down over his arms, took the jacket right off him. We saw what both of us had dreamed we might see. Beneath his jacket were wings that grew out through rips in his shirt. When they were released, the wings began to unfurl from his shoulder blades.

“But the [archaeopteryx] was a heavy, bony thing. Look at the clumsy, leaden tail. It was capable of nothing but short, sudden flights. From tree to tree, stone to stone. It couldn’t rise and spiral and dance like birds can now.”

[…]

I thought of the baby in my lap, of Skellig slung between Mina and me. I thought of his wings and the baby’s fluttering heart.

“There’s no end to evolution,” said Mina.

She shuffled closer to me.

“We have to be ready to move forward,” she said. “Maybe this is not how we are meant to be forever.”

I felt Skellig and Mina’s hearts beating along with my own. […] All I knew were the hands in mine, the faces turning through the light and the dark, and for a moment I saw ghostly wings at Mina’s back, I felt the feathers and delicate bones rising from my own shoulders, and I was lifted from the floor with Skellig and Mina.

I closed my eyes. I wanted to imagine nothing. The baby was dead. Skellig was gone. The world that was left was ugly, cold, terrifying. The blackbirds squawked and squawked while Mrs. Dando told Mina’s mother about what a great footballer I was, about how I loved having a crazy time with the other boys.

“And then he reached right down with both hands and lifted her up. She was wide awake. They stared and stared into each other’s eyes. He started slowly to turn around…”

“Like they were dancing,” I said.

“That’s right, like they were dancing.

[…]

“And the strangest thing of all was, there were wings on the baby’s back. Not solid wings. Transparent, ghostly, hardly visible, but there they were.”

“You went to my sister,” I said. […] “You made her strong.”

“That one’s glittering with life,” [Skellig said]. “Heart like fire. It was her that gave the strength to me.”

[…]

“But worn out now,” he said. “Exhausted.”

Then he reached out and touched Mina’s face, then mine.

“But I’m getting strong, thanks to the angels and the owls.”

Then the owls flew back in and came to us. They laid something on the floor in front of us. A dead mouse, a tiny dead baby bird. Blood was still trickling through the ripped fur, through the young feathers. […]

“Savages,” I whispered.

“Killers,” said Mina. “Extraordinary presents, eh?”

“They think we’re something like them,” I said.

“Perhaps we are,” said Mina.