Merman
don't get close to the water
I can’t resist shuffling through the sand, kicking my bare toes in the cool darkness beneath.
“Don’t get so close to the water!”
The townsfolk call out and I shrug, ignoring them yet again. I did promise to listen when we left the village, for the sake of safety, to their repeated concerns about the rolling waves and icy undertow.
But they never mentioned it.
Coppery limbs flex and reach for the lavender sky as I stare. It’s not disbelief that keeps me riveted to the shimmering movements, graceful and strong in the echo of the setting sun.
It’s love.
I step into the inviting shallows and the surf swallows my feet within its foamy breath. The shouts behind me are immediately distant, my ears closed to anything but the water’s lull. My attention is riveted to the lithe figure as it undulates above the water and dives beneath the surface again and again.
The movements are smooth, the water still.
As I paddle further into the sea, my body bobbles with the water’s rhythm, fierce as it grows deeper. I stand on my tiptoes, my head tilted back so my neck is stretched far enough for my chin to stay above the gulping waves.
When it sees me, I smile. A pulsing beat of cold water fills my mouth and I choke as I reach for it, my arms wide and welcoming.
But it narrows its emerald eyes at me, and as it turns away, the last long threads of sunlight shimmer violet on that flawless form. It is the last, and most beautiful, thing I ever see.
This flash fiction is a response to
’s Flash Fiction Friday prompts, MerMay. As a mermaid trapped in a human body, I was drawn to these prompts like, well, a fish to water.
No Rest for the Wicked
The tire service shop is busy today, and I stare out of the grubby window, watching cars and old pickup trucks huddle together in a haphazard line on the street as the stoplight takes its time to change. The flat waiting for me this morning when I opened the garage door was a nasty but not unexpected surprise, not when my husband whispe…
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