After the first week, I fell into a pattern. Wake up at ten (or at least set an alarm hoping to,) have a shower to achieve consciousness and walk about the half-empty streets searching for something to do. It was Sunday when I got the Facebook notification about the Warf Fete on. Without anything to do, I messaged Keith, deciding to meet at the small, private beach just off the Wharf.
Hey, dude take ur time. I sent that text with the utmost sarcastic bite to it. A month back I’d had to deal with a twenty minute rant from him for being half an hour late to see a movie. Keith was the type to keep that stuff in the back of his head, a lingering grudge like a tiny thorn he liked to pull out and stab me with on the occasion
Someone might’ve found it foul how the salt in the ocean wind made me salivate like a dog scenting a dead rabbit. Most people described it giving them a sense of calm. They came here to swim, bathe in the sun or even meditate. For me, this place was a hunting ground. Dad once told me that even sharks feared us.
What I feared most right now, were the sharks walking with two legs and mocking me with two eyes and a pair of lips. A bunch of shit lords from school walked past, sniggering under their breath at the mere sight of me. You could say they were reason I spent most days in my lonely house. Uncomfortable, yet refusing to look like a coward, I made my escape slowly, casually as possible to the overlook. There, I sat on the one bench to stare at the horizon. Well, I would’ve, if I hadn’t noticed the other guy sitting on the bench. He looked around the same age as me, wearing a white sweater and grey jeans with a pair of pale green boots. From my awkward glances he seemed happy, even peaceful just watching the still horizon. It wasn’t his pretty blue eyes, or even the cute way he put his blonde hair back that drew my gaze, but the green-blue charm necklace around his neck. He was probably warned about us. Told about the Siphon creatures that will hunt them, that they appear as the rest of the men of the land.
Despite myself, he was the one that talked first.
“Pretty, isn’t it? Everyone always goes on about sunsets or sunrises, but they never talk about how pretty the in-between is.”
His voice is sweet. It’s got the rasp only guys around our age get. If it weren’t for the necklace, I wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. He could’ve been some guy from school.
“Sure. Didn’t know this town had any poets,” I said nonchalantly, leaning back into the seat.
“I’m not a poet. Just appreciative,” The blonde guy said, pulling his legs up to sit cross-legged.
“Appreciative, of this place? You’re new in town, aren’t you?” I said with a playful smile. My dad had taught me to fish when I was twelve.
“Yeah, that obvious?” He laughed in turn.
“Your clothes are a dead giveaway. Doesn’t suit our weird-ass weather,” I shrugged.
“I could go to the fete, show you around. It’s a pretty dangerous place for new comers,” I said with a click of the tongue and a small half-smile. My dad had taught me of the hook, the bait and the prey. It was a simple process, all in all. Looking to the fete, with the Ferris wheel, old rollercoaster, dazzling lights and the scent of popcorn and promise of fairy floss, it seemed to be another world entirely. A place of fruitless joy.
“I don’t know. I came here for the fete but…” he sighed.
“My name’s Rey, by the way. And, the fete does seem pretty boring. We could always find something else to do,” I suggested, looking straight at the horizon.
“Alright.”
146Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgnyk2bd5tS
He only mentioned his name as we walked back to my house. I didn’t bother messaging Keith, rather letting him sit, wait and stew on it. I was busy, hunting. We walked down the quiet street, not a soul to stare or question the two.
“So, what do they call you, from this faraway place?” I half-joked.
“Finn.” He said, almost as if it were a normal name. And I almost laughed. Finn, the merman. Oh, my god.
Inside my small summer house, I got a pack of semi-old beer and we sat by the pool, on the very same concrete that had been awash in blood the day before. It was there, in the kiss of summers sunlight, I really saw him. Where my jaw was sharp, his was square. Brown freckles curled beneath his eyes. His skin was white, but had a hue to it that projected the slight darkness around those pools of blue glass. You’re a kind soul, aren’t you? I took another swig of my beer. Condensation from the brown glass trickled down my hands, a welcome respite against the summers glare. It took a few moments, but it kicked in. Finn began to slouch, as if he were incredibly sleepy until he completely folded, falling into the pool with a gentle splash. I didn’t flinch against the cold brush of the pool water. I just watched him sink down to the bottom. He wouldn’t drown. They can’t drown. I’d never done this entirely on my own before. Sure, I’d helped, playing the part of the innocent kid to put them at ease. Mer-folk were such curious creatures. They were utterly fascinated with the contraptions and gadgets of the men who walked on dry land, like cars and planes. Finn was no different. With an inkling of hesitation, I slipped down into the cool waters, fully clothed. As was my kinds curse, I sank right to the bottom, able to walk across the bottom without much resistance. It was there I grabbed his sleeve, yanking him over I was able to reach beneath his muscle T and break off the necklace that marked him for what he was. Without this, his legs would shift and contort right back into their true form – a glittering tail of every colour of the rainbow. It’d take an hour or so, around the same time the drug’s effects would wear off and Finn would come to.
Using the groves carved into the side of the pool, I climbed up and out, the necklace stuffed into my back pocket. For a second, standing at the bottom of the pool with no need to gasp for air, I’d taken my time. I had the necklace, my task was done and yet…I hesitated. I stood there in the complete and utter silence of the blue water and held his jaw in my hand. His first eye-lid was open, leaving his clear blue eyes open and staring, protected by the translucent shield of his second set. I stood there, holding him still, focusing on his lightless blue eyes. Curiosity lures them. It tempts them and eventually kills them. But I see its temptation. I could feel the taste of temptation of curiosity. It was a sweet taste. One that tugged and pulled, almost relentlessly. One that asked for more.But I had to ignore it. A lion that questioned its prey would quickly become a lion that starved.
After drying off, I put my phone on a timer. One hour. For that one hour, I’d listen to my music and let myself sink back into the quiet heat of the day.
ns 108.162.216.43da2
and then Add to home screen.