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the little diveman

Eldin glimpsed his mermaid in the water, the one who stole his heart when he rescued her from the beach. He’d given up everything to find her.

He rushed across The Sea Witch and struggled into scuba gear.

“You sure know what you’re doin’?” asked the Captain.

“Of course.” Eldin flashed his forged dive ticket again.

The Captain cursed as the boy splashed into the water. “No deeper than 30m or the decompression’ll kill ya.”

Eldin found his mermaid waiting for him, smiling and holding out her hands.

She led him to an underwater village built of kelp and coral.

The regulator he needed for breath wouldn’t let him speak his promises of love, but he rejoiced at the warmth of her hand against his glove.

His depth gauge read 120m when his mask cracked. Eldin paid it little mind, his mind too full with the magic of first love.

She let go of Eldin’s hand as a school of merchildren swam to greet her. When she gestured to Eldin they rushed to hug him. He tried to smile but his stomach knotted up with doubts. A smiling merman shook his hand. Her family, Eldin realized, her children. Her husband.

Eldin turned, hoping they wouldn’t see the agony of his shattered heart. He needed to get away. To find somewhere alone to howl with this awful pain.

He released his dive weights, rushing to the surface, heedless of the Captain’s warning.

They never found his body. Some say he turned to sea foam, his sorrow clinging to the surface of her world and to his.

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the mermaid’s return

I slip inside the waves, the sea kissing my skin. We’ve been so long apart. She soothes my aching senses, dulling the sharp sounds and smells of the open air.

My tattered feet merge into my tailfin. Out of habit my eyes hunt for the notch I earned from a run-in with a nurse shark when I was seven. I take comfort that my true form remains the same after so many years hidden away.

Everything turns inward. I am aware of my self in the water, my breath, my heartbeat. I swim deeper, reaching for the distant clicks and whale song of the sea, leaving the land and all its ghosts behind forever.

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skeleton keys

“Skeleton keys don’t unlock skeletons, you know,” said the boy. “It’s a real shame, too.”

“I guess, but this one will open my mum’s closet,” said his friend.

The first boy shrugged. “Yeah, but who cares about some old shoes and dresses. Come on, let’s go play outside.”

The door slammed behind them.

The skeletons in the closet relaxed in a clatter of loose joints. That was close.

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Making Beaches Great Again

I believe artists have a social responsibility not just to provide escape, but to stand up for what’s right. To show a mirror to society, to speak up. While there is some movement on this issue, I encourage everyone to keep fighting for these families and children. We are all one natural disaster away from becoming refugees ourselves.

Making Beaches Great Again

“My Mom and I came to this beach a month ago. It’s something mermaids like to do, you know? We tell each other these heart-breaking stories of mermaids who fall in love with human men and everything goes wrong.” The mermaid gazes across the sea, her smile fading, her lips trembling.

Her mermaid name is not allowed in the camp. The pronunciation is too difficult for the guards. She’s been temporarily assigned ‘Zoe’ until her processing is complete.

“The immigration officers were hiding behind a sand dune. They called us ‘illegals’ and told me I’d never see my mom again.” Her chin quivers. “I haven’t.” Zoe brushes a smooth, turquoise glass from her cheek. It’s true, that old legend of sea glass being mermaid tears.

Immigration Affairs refuses to back down, despite the lack of infrastructure to handle the sudden influx of underage merfolk. “These aren’t international waters. These mermaids broke the law. Nobody wants to see our beaches overrun with mermaids. We take their kids, they’ll get the hint and stay in the water.”

On Tuesday the leader of the dry world tweeted We could solve a lot of our problems by having a fish fry. #mermaidsushi #gettingmesometail. The House of White quickly issued a statement that their leader is not a cannibal and only intends to eat the fish half.

Zoe isn’t on twitter. I don’t bring it up.

She digs her fingers into the wet sand and fights back a sob. Her lap fills with sea glass. “Do you know where my mom is?”

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Photo courtesy of Ian Espinosa on Unsplash
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fragile things and bubble wrap

“I am Sifa of the Fabled Sidhe, goddess of fragile things. I have been sent to protect you.” The woman tore a strip from a roll of bubble wrap she held in her hands.

My heart fluttered. Should I run?

“Stay still. I won’t hurt you.” Her bright eyes reassured me.

She reached into my chest and pulled out my heart.

“Whump whump,” it said. “Whump whump.”

“I know,” she said, her voice reassuring. “There, there.”

I stared. My heart was an ugly purple and smelled of uncooked meat.

“Would you mind?” Sifa asked, lifting my heart.

I held my heart for her as she wrapped it in plastic bubbles.

“Whump whump,” it apologized.

“I forgive you,” I told my heart.

“Whump whump.”

The plastic crinkled as Sifa stuffed my heart back into my chest. “There. You should be good.”

I straightened up, a tickle in my chest.

“How does it feel?” she asked me.

“Whump whump,” I said, giddy as a child.

“Good.” She draped the last of the bubble wrap round her face like a veil, winked once, and disappeared.

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the rainbow fairy of crooked creek

As most of you know, the Daily Post is shutting down. I will miss the weekly photo prompts and community I found therein. For the final edition, we’ve been encouraged to share our all-time favourite photo. Here’s mine:

The fairy’s graceful lines and colourful foliage are famous throughout the province. If you whisper, you can ask her anything you like, but be warned: any disrespect and she’ll turn the creek against you. She is no stranger to cruelty and prejudice. She bears her scars. Young folk of marginalized sexualities can call on her for help and kinship. She turns none away.

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twisted

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I hide behind the twisted metal wreckage of the daily news. In my darksome cave, I am safe from the monsters of reality.

No one bothers to ask the monster under the bed what he is afraid of. But I’ll tell you, anyway.

It’s you.

The things you do to the children of your world. Yet they have nightmares of me. I’d shake my head and harden my heart, but I’m a monster. I don’t have either. I have to feel it instead.

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a spill of light

Winter’s womb. A spill of light. Captured sunrise. Snowy grin. Portal. Gash. A rip in the space/time continuum. Danger. Predator. Stuck. Trap. Run. Get help. It’s eating m-

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talisman of flight

The phoenix flew, disappearing into the azure skies forever. The sun glistened off his human lover’s fallen tears as waves crept up to steal them. He left her a feather, a talisman of flight. Angry, hurt, and unwilling to forgive him, she left it there.

The waves knew not to touch it.

The rocks held back. The sand shivered and lay still, hoping it wouldn’t be noticed.

A child toddled along, craving seaside treasure. Seeing the feather she grasped it and up and up she flew, soaring over islands, bays, and oceans, till she landed by the phoenix’s side.

The phoenix wondered what this could mean. Why had his human love sent a child in her stead? Could it be … his? But nay, such things aren’t possible. Are they?

“Bird,” said the child. “Fire.”

The phoenix nodded and sent the child home with fire. A fool’s gift to one too young to fear it.

Her village burned, till the waves came up and doused it, gathering the child and pulling her into the sea. Fascinated by the sky it could smell on her skin.

There it kept her, safe from flames. She walked the seabed a smouldering ember, her head above water. Not sky, not sea, not earth, not flame.

Not happy.

The embers of her skin cracked as she grew, dividing into plates. Toughening with endless callouses and turning green with algae. Her eyes brightened with inner flame and her pupils lengthened into slits. Webbing grew beneath her arms as the talisman of flight twisted them to wings.

She flapped the wings and left the sea, fire roiling in her belly. The dragon soared across the sky. She left the talisman behind, free.

Frightened waves hurried the feather to shore and dared not touch it again.

The rocks held back. The sand shivered and lay still, hoping it wouldn’t be noticed.

A child toddled along, looking for seaside treasure.