Exploratoring The Real World - The Racecourse

Three and a half years ago, I wrote about a place in Northampton called 'The Racecourse' that was a nice place by day, but dangerous and to be avoided by night. This held a lot of symbolism for me, so I wrote and recorded this. Thanks for reading.

 The Racecourse

     Do you walk dogs, or do dogs walk you? That's what I was thinking. Swaying on those swings – rusted and immaturely coloured with reds and blues. Those creaky chains could resist the wind, but not my weight. I wasn't swaying forwards and backwards, as it was more of a side-to-side; my mind was peaceful – simple. Noticing the childish smoke from my mouth, I pretended to be a dragon in the way that had always been funny since I was little.

     It was a heavily coated dog, walking a heavily coated man. That's what it was. The dog had a jovial bounce to his step – somewhat of a skipping child on four legs. He was as fluffy and grey as the looming clouds. A dark night threatened. The man tailed a rigid trail behind; he definitely wasn't in control. I stared out to the mass of open space peering closely at the hiding spots: trees that could hold dens or hills to roll down. The Racecourse was so innocent and vague; there were fewer things more sinister.

     Guess who I felt sorry for most, though? Those information signs that act so self-importantly. They sit and tell you things, constantly - sat gleaming their information to deaf ears and dull minds. Who was really going to stop and hear them out in that kind of cold? Must be hard to have a job. Or at least a boring one where you slave away the majority of your waking life to a cause that isn't your own. Those kinds of people probably cross through places like the The Racecourse every day in an attempt at being punctual. I doubt they even stop to look at the monotonous, striving, aimless field.

The signs probably should quit their jobs. They won't, though, because they work to live their ever extending life. You have to admire their persistence, calling out to happily married couples romancing hand in hand – clearly enjoying the rest of their lives so much more than the signs. I wondered how old they were – when does a sign retire, anyway?

     So many leaves on the ground from the time of year. Some of the leaves had a youthful shade of white spread over them as if trying to dye their 'greying' hair. Hiding from their own mortality. Brown must be a dull colour for a leaf; morbid and dry. Sometimes the wind would carry them speedily along as if chasing a hearse: 'Take me with you' they'd whisper in the despair of the night. At first they lose their tree, and then the death of darkness has to plague them, destroying their overt attempts at being innocent and pure. When the scythe strikes, The Racecourse wins.

I wonder if the dog made his way home? I bet the man got enough exercise. I made my own way home before dark, it's not quite my time, yet.

Take Your Pick! Short Stories!

In my opinion, these are my best short stories of the past, free for your viewing. 

Click the title to read:

Capsule - When reunited friends go camping as they did when they were children, it is not the night of simple reminiscing they expected. Horror, Thriller.

Maiden Of The Sea - In a rural seaside home, the ocean carries with it far more mysteries and beauties than one might expect. Folktale, Thriller.

Letter To A Princess - What does a roguish lowlife do when he is in love with a princess but doesn't know how to write? Comedy, Low Fantasy.

Something In The Wall - Moving into a new home can be stressful. Horror, Very Short.

A Keyring Memory - A memory on the keyring of his life. Unlikable Protagonist, Slice of Life.

Mimi Says - The disjointed, arrhythmic tale of Mimi. Do as she says. Horror, Psychological.

Mimi Says

           Mimi stands in the doorway at night. She knocks three times in the silhouette bright. My mum is unaware and Mimi says this is good. She compliments my hair and tells me I'm rare and I believe Mimi because she tells me I should. Mimi wears a plain white mask with big red curls and rosy red cheeks. She speaks quietly and calm wearing the innocent smile of the meek, and at this point she's visited me for weeks.

           Mimi says I should be her friend. And I do want to be her friend, saying that our friendship should never end. She's asking for proof. Proof that I am her friend by giving me tasks to perform, offerings of food, like bread or fruit or corn. The food must be simple, she says. No food from a lady, as that would be crazy. Women are the precious and taking their food is malicious. I now avoid milk and eggs or meat made from cow's legs.

           Mimi says I should wear white in bed. She says I should do this to accentuate the red. So I do. She says I should wear white gowns and never carry frowns so that I can look like her from toe to paw, every time I open that door. That way, when she knocks, I can look like her. “White and pure with a face of allure.” My feet as bare as hers and our hips both jut. When I grow, I shall keep my figure and never indulge in smut.

           Mimi says I should buy her a flower with thorns on it. Thorny flowers are the best because they can protect themselves. They smell to attract only certain things and avoid others. They are completely in control of their life.

           Mimi says flowers prove my friendship and that friends do things for each other. Mimi says I should not eat sweets and tell this to my mummy. Sweets use energy much needed for making babies and they turn boys into rapists with rabies. My mummy should know of the habits I intend to end and she still thinks I have an imaginary friend.

           Mimi says I should avoid boys at school to protect my womb. Avoid dark alleys where they might loom. Mimi says my womb is special and the white gown, once a month, should show off my red. She says it's because of my hair being red, and because my hair is curly shows why I'm special to have it so early. The other girls are not deserving. Not of my friendship, they are all immature bullies and meanies. They're not like my good friend Mimi.

           Mimi says she needs to know about my mummy. Mimi says I should tell her everything into her core. Whether she's had any more children or has ever been a whore. Whether her hair is dark as a midnight shore. Whether her conversations are a bore and everything more. She's happy with my answers and hates that mummy wears fur. She says it's horrid and that I should avoid her.

           Mimi says my mummy is special for having made me and no other. If she had she would not be a special mother. For all I am worth she should have no more girls. None to take over me with my shiny red curls.

           Mimi says I should not talk to my mum, to ignore her and keep up an act. She says I should not care how her days went and that I should avoid eye contact. She says that my mum thinks she knows best and will try to influence my life. But Mimi says she drinks alcohol and couldn't make a good wife.

           Mimi says I shouldn't let anyone influence my life and I should fulfil my greatest potentials on my own. I like Mimi. When she's with me I trust her the most. She is my friend and I'm happy to boast. Mimi says Lauren from school is selfish and is trying to hold me back. Mimi says to see the truth in people is what she has as a knack and that Lauren's friendship is something I should lack.

Mimi says when I grow up, my breasts will be small like hers. She says this is good as it is modest and that's something I deserve. Mimi let me touch her breasts so I could imagine mine. She says it's not a problem and that to feel like I do is fine.

           Mimi says I should kill a creature and keep it as my proudest feature. She says I should catch a male and preferably something with a tail. Mimi says that I should burn the filthy animal which turned out to be a rat; I squished the rat very flat. So with a box of matches I made the rat a cinder and from inside something hatches because it went “POP”. And all this liquid just wouldn't stop. I took a hammer and nailed him on my bedroom wall. Mimi says this should make me feel womanly and powerful and really very tall.

           Mimi says I should not feel bad and that what I am doing is good. I tell Mimi I do feel bad and she said she understood. But Mimi says she likes me and I like her too. And that she wouldn't like me if she told me and I did not do. So I feel less bad and Mimi isn't mad. Everyone's happy.

           Mimi says she wants a knife. I should find one soon. For her and for myself to use and protect my life. She says it should be sharp and that I should sharpen it more. I need to show Mimi the knife and hide it away. What happens next she wouldn't yet say and yet I have an idea. I get Mimi, I like Mimi. She's been my friend for a year.

           Mimi says I should use the knife tonight. She knocked on my door pale in the moonlight and told me it is fine. She walked into my house for the very first time and told me to use the knife. She walked with my upstairs, slowly but sure and we both stopped, standing at the bedroom door. Mimi didn't look at me, but I looked at her. The door swung open, the room lined with fur and empty glasses of wine and Mimi whispered that it's time.

           Mimi prepared me for this little act and that I was special was just a fact but I couldn't risk my mummy ruining that. So her bed was there and I stood with my eyes shut; then I plunged the knife right into her gut. She woke with a startle and I told her everything will be okay. Her eyes were full of shock and she wasn't okay. On my feet I rocked and I brushed my blood-soaked hand through her hair, telling her to shush – twisting the knife with an extra push. I smiled up at her and she didn't make a sound, but she struggled and gargled until she was a weight on the ground.

           When I turned around. Mimi couldn't be found, she was gone from the room and not on the stairs. I walked with my gown covered with thick wet hairs and oozing, dripping down my head was the red. Mimi stood in the doorway with her mask so big. I waited for her to tell me what I did and she pointed to me, pointed to my belly. I nodded, knowing what to do but my legs went to jelly. I was a special girl with red curls and I was more than this.

           I turned the knife inside my hand and stabbed myself where I stand and pangs of pain were met with pleasure as I felt the blood pour out of me with no regrets because Mimi said. Mimi smiles in the doorway dimly lit by the shadow and moon. I like Mimi, Mimi is by friend. Everything will be okay soon and I lull my feint head. Everything will be okay because Mimi said.

A Keyring Memory

           I saw this girl once. I saw her while she was working at the local food shop. She turned out to be a bit of an enigma for myself. She turned out to be quite significant to myself. And I saw her first.

           I was doing my weekly shop, which this week happened to be placed on a Sunday, and I had done my usual trick of eating before I came out to make sure I didn't buy as much stuff. I walked around that zigzagging rope for queuing that is never full and I took my place at the self service check outs. As I was walking there was when I spotted her, and at the time I can't say I thought much more than 'Ohh, you're fairly attractive.' like you think with every eighteenth person on the street. I beeped all my shopping through to the bags, carefully distributing the weight.

           I always had a problem with the security guard here, too. No matter how innocent I genuinely am and try to be, he always seems to walk around an aisle as if he doesn't trust me. So I look around to see whether the idiot is going to rugby tackle me to the ground over some Jelly Beans and I accidentally made eye contact with the girl. Twice. Now, I know I'm not the only one that when this happens automatically thinks 'she wants me', even though you know it's unlikely, and that is exactly what I thought.

           At that point was when I started to think about her, with her long straight black hair; dark eyes from the deepest mascara and pale complexion; tipped off with a red T-shirt and black trousers supplied by work. She was petite and while not the most obvious of beauty, there was something about her that I kind of liked.

           Then I left the shop. Stupidly enough, I was aware that not making my own opportunities meant I would get nowhere with anybody. But I wasn't going to speak to her. Of course not. She was nothing special that would make me step out of my comfort zone. Just an attractive girl.

She very quickly left my mind, the first time, and returned at the next visit. I was hoping she would be there before I even entered. The reason, I can not tell you. Perhaps I just like to be around pretty girls. She was not there, none-the-less.

           It must have been two weeks before I saw her there again on a Wednesday, stacking shelves. Needless to say, I skipped that aisle completely in the vain hope of not wanting her to see me, and again, I cannot tell you why. There was such an irrationality in my mind that it makes no sense even now. I saw plenty of people about my day, and she meant nothing to me, yet when I was there I was constantly aware of her presence.

* * *

           Another week goes by of complete absence from the shop before she is there again, standing at the self-service. I was only on a short trip this time to buy a bottle of rum for a 'lads night in' that evening.

           As I stepped up to my position at the payment point I turned to realise she was stood right in front of the bottle I was going for. I reached out my hand to suggest I wanted something there and I smiled at her. She gave me a half glance with a false-smile as she stepped out of the way. As I was paying, to be sure, I did notice my boyish smile as she walked over to ID me. Her fingers brushed mine. It was at that point, I realised there was something extra about this girl. Almost as if she passed some emotional thing to me via contact.

           Flowing thoughts of this girl on the way back to my flat was overtaken by thoughts of take-away pizza for lunch. Because, aside from our sporadic glances over weeks – I still had a life to live with things more important things to worry about.

           I did wonder, though, what that girl would look like in her normal clothes; what type of person she was. I will admit, I wondered about her a little too much seeing as I didn't know her in the slightest. However, she must have noticed me, too, apparently.

           Only a few days later I saw her again over a DVD rack in town. I contemplated talking to her; trying to spark a conversation, but, deep down, I knew there was no chance I would just talk to a random person. I didn't want her thinking I was a weirdo or something. So instead, when she looked in my direction, I just looked away.

           After she left, I walked round to where she was standing and saw she was looking at horror movies. My opinion of her went up, though I couldn't help think my usual tactic of using horror as an excuse to cuddle wouldn't work. Not that I thought mattered.

           Then things got a little more interesting.

           The bus I was on stopped. She walks on. She pays the driver and walks up to the back; two spaces away from me. Three guys followed her in that I barely noticed and before I knew it, we had eye contact.

           I smiled at her, wondering if she would give anything back - if she had noticed me.

           “Stop staring at me, and leave me alone.” she said in a harsh voice, yet almost in a sigh.

           “What?” I couldn't help but burst out, out of shock more than anything else.

           “I swear you're following me or something, I've seen you an increasing amount lately. And whatever you want, I'm not really interested. Okay?” she spat aloud, as I noticed the other passengers on the bus deliberately not looking back. I played as innocent as I was.

           “Woah, I was just trying to be nice!”

           “Nice? What by being creepy and staring at me, look, you don't know who I am – so I suggest you ignore me from now on.” She had calmed down at this point. I went to speak, but nothing would come out; my mouth hung slightly open and I obviously looked appalled and offended. She didn't seem to care. “Just go search for your bitch elsewhere.” That was an assumption I didn't like. She got up and walked over to the three guys, sitting a space away from them.

           She wore jeans that were tight around the arse and loose around the ankles, with a black T-shirt with some pink print. Her face was as pristine as I had always seen her in the shop, I couldn't put my finger on it, but she was with these lads who looked kind of like drug dealers. One of them with a buzz cut and an earring, wearing bright clothes, looked back at me, grinning and mauling his chewing-gum.

           I looked away as I had just been publicly falsely accused – which, in a way, I had been. For some reason, I was too curious to let things go, and her choice of words suggested she didn't really know what I wanted. Perhaps she was hiding something. I figured if I was in for a penny I was in for a pound.

* * *

           There are some boyish feelings that never go away. Things such as wanting what you can't have. I decided that it wasn't that I wanted this girl, it was more that I wanted to prove a point or just accept the challenge. Plainly to me, she was a difficult person, and I wasn't going to back off unless she gave me absolute reason.

           I re-visited the Tesco's every few days until I saw her working there on the Saturday. That was when the blanking started. I'm not sure if she saw, because I was too busy blanking her, but I made sure to seem too natural and therefore unnatural. I skipped the next week, so the other staff members didn't think I was odd. Then luck struck the next time as I blanked her, again. Just to emphasise the point.

           At the third time, I was sure she must have noticed me there. This time around I blanked her differently. I kept her in the corner of my eye, and when she was looking in my direction I swung my head to make eye contact and winked at her, before going back to blanking.

           This was a bold move, I am well aware. But what did I have to lose? She already seemed to hate my guts and I was naively going to take on anything.

           The rest of my life carried on as normal. I wasn't obsessive, but as I said, there was something about that girl. But seeing as there wasn't any girl in the world I was interested in, my playing it cool didn't last too long before I decided to have a bit of fun.

           The next time I saw her, I walked right up to her. Basket of shopping in hand. And I smiled. Her being at work, she couldn't do much to get me to shoo, so she quietly glared at me and said “Can I help you?”

           “Ohh, I was just wondering if you'd like to go for a drink.” I said confidently, expecting some vile spat in return about how she would get someone to beat me up if I didn't go away. Instead, she just rolled her eyes.

           “Okay.” She said, soft and casually. There wasn't a hint of chill in her words, and that confused me.

           “Tomorrow at seven? The King's Arms?” I said, out of shock. Confused expression riddling my face.            Did she even remember I was that guy from the bus?

           “I finish work at six, so I'll be there at eight.”

           “Deal.” I said, as I walked on, almost forgetting to pay for my shopping.

* * *

           It wasn't until she was back in my flat after six or seven drinks that I really thought about what was happening, albeit an overly tipsy realisation. This girl of whom I held round the waist until she was sat down and I offered her more drink, was the same girl that I had a fleeting, and careless, thought about in a food shop. It hadn't occurred to me before, that I might have been courting her for completely the wrong reasons.

           That being said, I'd had a brilliant night with this girl who all of a sudden was completely different towards me. She seemed so fun. I ignore the cliché of what people have in common – it's dislikes that is important, and we absolutely disliked the same stuff.

           After plenty of slurred conversation and tickling comments, we drew closer and then a bit of intimacy began to flow. This was the last thing I had expected at the start of the night and almost still was. I just ignored it, and went with her flow.

           Normally, I'm not the kind of person to sleep with someone so quickly. Though a mix of shocking enjoyment, not wanting to offend and absolute boyish lust drew over me until our clothes covered more floor than could be seen.

           I lost myself in the moment, and just before anything significant had happened, I felt her recoil.

           “I should probably warn you, before we do this. I do have a boyfriend.”

           The words, I later realised, were possibly the most worrying words that this girl could have said, and yet only caused a brief pause in my drunken and lustful state. Upon reflection, I should have made the link between the drug addled scum on the bus and the sores and fading bruses around her back, waist and shins. But in my mind, I assumed she meant 'but let's carry on anyway'. And that, I did.

           In the morning, there was nothing strange, just a casual getting dressed, a swift cup of tea and arrangements from her to leave. She explains to me that, “I had a lovely time,” she paused with a shy smile “It was great to have someone so caring.” I was expecting something more, before I realised the implications of what she was saying about her boyfriend.

           “Can I get your number, or something?” I asked in a vain hope, having already anticipated the answer. I knew I was unlikely to even speak to her again. “I don't think it's a good idea. I'd love to keep you as a memory though.” she added, as if trying to offer me something out of the experience. She knew I knew.

           There was a hug before she left. But then she was gone. The only time I ever knew anything of her after that was the knowledge that she no longer worked where I shopped, and that she had broken up with her boyfriend, somehow. What had happened to her around that, I have no idea. But perhaps I played a part in her life too.

           For me, though, for such a small and simple thing. I had learned so many things. That the people you oggle in the street have stories. And while there are other more important stories of my own life, I don't know how much more honest I could have been about this particular event.

An important keyring to the keys of my life, my mind; my being.

Maiden Of The Sea

           To see such a creature right before my eyes filled me with so many feelings. A feeling of shock, of worry and of awe. The gleam of that, who some would name a beast, reflected the sun to look as if to glow. A sight to behold that I'll never forget.

           I never wanted to lose the sight of it. Yet, I never wanted it to catch sight of me. That was the feeling of fear. Fear of what it might do; fear that it may leave and never come back.

                                                                  * * *

           October 12^th, 1814. My sixteenth birthday. I had woken up to a still dark sky. The earliest a morning could be, to me. My uncle was visiting my mother and I at our bungalow by the sea and he had promised to take me beachcombing.

           When he'd first mentioned beachcombing, I'd never understood it. Then he told me of many jobs that involved beachcombing, and I remember laughing so very hard at the term 'winkle-picker'. But I was only a little boy. He said when I was sixteen he would take me out beachcombing with him – as was his hobby – and suddenly, I became obsessed with the idea.

           I loved the sea. I loved the beach. To live so close was something I adored. But I stuck to a promise and never became a 'beachcomber' until my uncle showed me how. Not that I thought there was much to show. My mother agreed, however, that I shouldn't be going to down to the beach alone until I was of a more reasonable age. As a result, I spent most of my time helping my mum with house work and and visiting my friends during these summer holidays.

           When the time finally came round to it, I had my waders ready and bought a pair of gloves that I didn't wear until I needed them. A thick jumper was needed as it was cold before the sun came up. A bag for my findings. All other tools were carried by my uncle, consisting of a shovel a trowel and a rake. I looked at myself in the mirror with my rake, tall boots, jumper and straggly hair. My mother wasn't awake yet, but if she were, she'd have told me I looked just like my late father.

           The reason beachcombing was so important to my uncle was very much unknown to me. I had never realised the difference between fifteen and sixteen. But I trusted him enough, having looked after me and my mum for so many years after my dad passed away. Now it was almost like he was accepting me as an adult. So with bags and pockets-a-plenty, we left the house to the greyish blue sky of pre-sun mornings.

           It was barely ten minutes later to walk around the cliff edge and find our way down to the beach way. We were upwind for most of the journey to smell to strong sea breeze. Our beach was not as fine sand as they have on other beaches, but fine enough for rocks and pebbles to be scattered at distances. I stopped at the edge of the beach, looked up at my uncle and smiled. Speaking above the roar of the sea, he smiled back, wishing me a happy birthday.

           We watched the ground. Looking for something shiny was the best, but anything interesting could be picked up. We made our way systematically across the beach to the edge of the sea and even waded in a little. It wasn't the nicest of days, clouds were heavy but with no threat of rain. My Uncle got out a comb and started scratching the sea with it. I laughed a lot at how silly he looked.

           “What's with you, dear boy? Never seen a man combing the beach before?” He said as dryly as he could and we both shared the moment of laughter. At the time I had thought nothing of it, but out the corner of my eye, what looked like someone popping out of the water caught my attention.

           “Found something, have we?” My uncle asked.

           “Thought I saw something in the water, is all.” Was my reply.

           “Ah, they do have seals around here, my boy. Probably wondering what all the noise was on this morning.” He said as he got up to keep searching.

           I had found a few really nice shells and some drift wood. A vague fishy smell lingered and the tide must have been going out from the darker sand near the shore. We had gotten to a protrusion in the rock of a cliff when there was a little area of sand around the side. Something really made me want to go around there out of pure curiosity.

           “Where are you off?” My uncle exclaimed as I began to wander away from him. I turned.

           “There's a bit around this cliff I would like to search. I don't think I will be long.” I said, as if asking for permission.

           “Well, I wont be able to climb around that, my boy. But I'll be here when you're back. Wouldn't want to stray too far apart.”

           “Okay, thanks.” I smiled and ran to the edge of the rock, climbing round a few pieces that otherwise meant wading into the water up to my chest. After it shallowed I jumped into the sea and found the other bit of land. Then I heard a feather-light humming and peeked around the last piece of rock. There was an alcove beach of richer sand than before and I saw her.

           To see such a creature right before my eyes filled me with so many feelings. A feeling of shock, of worry and of awe. The gleam of she, who some would name a beast, reflected the sun to make her look as if to glow. Simply, she was beautiful.

           I never wanted to lose the sight of her. Yet, I never wanted her to catch sight of me. That was the feeling of fear. Fear of what she might do; fear that she may leave and never come back. She sat, on a rock combing her hair of a tangled mess. And oh what an abundance of hair! It was truly a sight to behold that defied explanation. Her peach coloured skin contrasted against her scaled tail that balanced her around a rock. Flecks of gold, blue, green and silver could be seen to mix a fantastic colour and her voice was soft.

           The shouting waves and cawing gulls seemed to fade into silence. She didn't draw me towards her, but I could not take my eyes away. I had never known these creatures were to exist. Suddenly, she jolted upright and sniffed the air as if she'd caught a scent and her eyes reflected every ounce of fear she owned. Immediately, I thought she had smelt me. I panicked and ran back, I ran around the cliffs splashing cloves of seawater into my mouth and almost tripping on a sea-weed that kept upon my foot. My uncle looked so surprised as my apparent worry spread through him.

           “What is it, what?” He shouted as he took my shoulder in his hand trying to steady me and my darting gaze.

           “I saw this wonderful, thing, uncle. It had a tail and I think it saw me watching it and... and...” As I was saying this I saw my uncle relax and I knew he had no idea. I would not be able to make him believe what I saw as I could not explain it. Something made me keep what I had seen to myself.

           “Boy, seals are nothing to be worried about. They could give you a nasty bite but keeping your distance is wise at any cost. Really gave me a fright, you did!” My uncle tried to calm me. We carried on roaming the sand for another hour with this wonder lingering in my head. My uncle tried to explain to me why he was so worried about me going off on my own.

           “How old were you when your father passed away? Do you remember anything of him?” He asked me. Of which I was only four so had no true memory. “On the day he went missing, he went off to the beach on his own. Wouldn’t tell anyone why, but it was often he decided to go on his own. One day, like in some fairy tale, he never returned.”

           I hadn't said much in reply, but I had never heard this story before. I wondered if what I had seen was the same thing that took my dad, and if searching for something of my father's was why my uncle beachcombed. I was crossed between allure and fear. Walking back into the warmth of home, I hadn't realised how cold I was. After a meal with my mother she had scraped the money together for; a few games and smiles from people at the local village followed and I went to bed. With a present in my mind the likes I couldn't have dreamed.

                                                                  * * *

           Despite a yearning to re-visit her as soon as possible, my uncle didn't leave town again for another three days. I knew he wouldn't let me go alone. So I waited and spent my time with him while he was with us. He was riding to Bristol docks eventually, so wouldn't be back again for a long time.

           Going against his wishes did make me feel bad but, as soon as he left, I went down to the beach. I told my mother that I was going to see some friends in the village and she gave me the usual worried look that she gives whenever I leave home on my own. Times were dangerous, but living so far out of town felt safer than roaming streets at night. Either way, I went out to the beach to find this woman of the sea and after an hour of searching one side of the beach to the other, she was no longer there. I slumped down to the sand in dismay. Of course she wasn't there. Was I expecting her to sit on the rock forever and always be there when I went back? It was a ridicules idea.

           Shifting over to move something uncomfortable from under my bum, I pulled a comb from the ground. It looked just like my uncles comb that we had laughed about the time before. I figured he must have dropped it, so I put it in my pocket and went home.

           It wasn't until I was nearly home and fingering the comb in my pocket that what I had seen sprang to my memory. My uncle had mistaken what I had seen for a seal, but what if it wasn't? What if that was the maiden just then? She must have known we were there. I figured maybe she heard our laughter and come to see what the noise was. I decided there was enough light time left for me to get back down to the beach so I ran to my heart's content in the hope that I could see this creature once again, though not without fear that it might see me. I had no choice.

           I found the spot where we were. I shouted, laughed and thumped as loud as I could and generally caused a disturbance among the sand, kicking up all kinds of smells; covering my boots in wet sand. When I didn't see anything popping up, I realised I should head back before it got dark. Just as I turned around, I dropped the comb I was twiddling and it made a minor splash amongst the incoming tide.

           Bending down to pick up the comb, I saw something move in the corner of my eye, though before I could double take, nothing could be seen. I stayed staring a little longer to no prevail and needed to return home. It was only then when I considered that a comb touching the water might have been the link.

           I decided to leave as it didn't seem like I had much of a chance of seeing anything. But it was as I was walking past another indent in the rock that I heard the beautiful humming. And peering around the corner, her skin gleamed as much as her tail did. This time I really looked at her and, again, it is nothing I can explain to look at. From her nose to her breasts to just below the navel looked so much like the most wonderful human and yet, the tail that clearly held so much power lingered on her lower half.

           I can honestly say at this point that despite the nakedness, there was not a drop of lust. I just wanted to be around her. To look at her. To meet her. A little too much after dark, I got home though the window and pretended I had come home sooner without my mother noticing.

                                                                  * * *

           To make myself feel better about lying, and without giving the reasons why, I worried my mother by telling her I was going to the beach. Considering what I had seen on the previous day, I didn't think it would be worth my not trying at least a second, or third time. So I picked the most tattered looking comb from the bathroom. One that almost looked like it was designed to have needless spines, so it didn't matter that it was missing or lost. Then I headed to the beach.

           This time, I seemed to care less if it saw me, I don't know why but I seemed to trust it. And so I didn't want to miss it's initial bump in the water. I sat directly at the edge of the tide, holding the ruined comb. Dipping it into the water, I combed the tiny waves three times and stared out to as much horizon as possible.

           What splashed up out of the waves was definitely not shy, as a whip of jet black hair sprouted a fountain of water into the air that took a while to settle. Even from so far out I could feel it staring directly into me. The eyes covered darker than the hair on it's head and made a direct contrast from how bone white it's skin was. This thing was much thinner and definitely not the same creature I had seen twice before.

           What startled me more was the sharp teeth that darted my way, the speed it seemed to be swimming out-distanced any fish and before I knew it, it was ascending out of the waves covered in spines both pale and dark jutting from her shoulders and spread down her spine. Her fingers were webbed and tail was as dark as her hair. She used her arms to crawl out of the water which slowed her significantly. I was stuck, frozen on the spot, in absolute fear into the depths of my marrow. I had no idea what this thing was or what I had done.

           She loomed over towards me, span from head to tail must have reached eight feet as her size was overwhelming for something so bony and thin. Her chin was extended to fit her needle sharp teeth. As she got closer I could do nothing but stare into the endless black eyes of hers. She grabbed my foot and dragged me underneath her and unhinged her mouth to make somewhere in between a screech and a hiss. She looked as if to take a maul of flesh out of my face. I stared into the mawing abyss.

           What felt most strange was that beyond the stench of fish was her natural smell that was not at all unpleasant.

           Mouth agape I could see so close the cilia lining her mouth, a slimy drip slid from her chin to my nose, proceeding to drip onto my face and as a reflex I shut my eyes tight. The next thing I knew was a thump above me and I felt less enclosed. Looking across the beach, there was the maiden I had intended to find pinning this creature to the ground with one hand and the other scratching away at it's neck and torso. The screeching was sure to be heard for a long distance as they fought on the sand. Blows were shared, and the creature seemed to have the upper hand on the maiden. Using her spines as defence and to stick into the maiden with her shoulder impacting in her ribs. She spat a kind of black ink into her pretty face and begun to extend her jaw again.

           The maiden reached out a hand and tore at the creature's lower jaw, making it hang – fully dislocated. Stunned, the pale and black creature was overwhelmed by the tail of the maiden who slammed her onto the ground. The maiden leapt up with surprising speed upon land over to me.

           I could not move, still, out of confusion and fear. The maiden was halted, dead in the sand, by the pale skinned creature digging it's sharp tipped fingers deep into the middle of her tail, tearing out a deep bloody mess. The maiden used the strength of her tail to retaliate and seemingly break something in the creature's torso enough to make her flee.

           Grabbing the spiked comb from my grasp, that had dug into my hand enough to draw blood.

           “Where did you get this?!” she hissed at me. Too frightened to speak I shook my head vigorously as if an acceptable answer. She paused, looking deep into my eyes, down my nose, to my mouth and chin. She looked as though she recognised me. She swept her hair to one side, revealing a medallion she was using as a piece of jewellery and removed it, placing it in my hand, closing my fingers around it.

           “This belongs to you. Never comb the sea again, understand? I might not be around next time if you call the wrong of us.” She calmed her voice. Her accent was implacable, soft and nice to hear as if she spoke with guttural emphasis from the back of the throat.

           “W... What are y... you?” I blubbered, feeling as if I wasn't inside my own body but a spectator for the whole event.

           “That's a rude question, human.” She grinned a wide grin, losing some of her own humanity. “You're just like your father was. We are mermaids as you are human.”

           “M... My father?” I struggled to ask.

           “Do you have my comb?” was the only reply. Harsh, but beautiful. Feeling all my pockets, in the back pocket I found I did have the comb from the previous day still there. I must have sat on it while calling the other mermaid and summoned both. I handed it towards her, my hand still trembling. She took it carefully and eyed me intently.

           “Thank you. For this, I shall grant you one wish. But then I must tend to my wound, and you shall never see me again.” she paused and waited for my quivering mess to think about what had been offered.

           “W.. Well then I wish to see you again. Once a year, I wish to hear your song.” I said. She looked at me for a few seconds as if considering this. She looked me in the eye and nodded once. Pressing my forehead with her lips, she kissed life into my wish.

           “Brave wish for such a cowardly being. You shall not see me, though you will hear my song on this day once a year. Pick up this shell and hold it to your ear, for at this action, you and only you will hear my voice.” With that, she proceeded to lift a shell from the sand, spiralling and pink, holding it to her mouth she sung loud and true for over an hour. This time had calmed me significantly. “Now avoid the sea for a long while, human boy. A summoned Mermaid can lurk at the shores for days.”

           Before I could say anything, she handed me the shell and turned, dragging her weakened tail into the sea with her. The blood did not mix with the water but the cut seemed to disappear instantly. I looked at the shell and slowly dragged myself home.

                                                                  * * *

           Walking through the door, which felt more welcoming than ever before, I was greeted by my mother as white as a sheet. Seeming like she'd seen a spectre of some kind, I noticed her eyes beaming at the medallion I had worn all of the way home. I told her I had found it on the beach and she told me more about my father. I listened carefully and she shed a tear, holding the medallion to her heart. She peered towards my hands where I was cradling the shell.

           “What's that?” She quizzed, casually. I held it up.

           “Just something I wanted to keep.” I lied “Nothing special.”

           Shooting her a grin of sentiment. I put my arm around my mother as we sat.