Why the world will know the name Isadore (Isadore by Incubus)

     The lyricist and singer of the band Incubus, Brandon Boyd, tends to keep many of the meanings of his songs somewhat close to his chest. This isn't a specific thing he does to be confusing, but rather a thing about his art. Many of Boyd's lyrics are poetic enough to leave interpretation up to the listener, and this is especially true of many of the songs from the If Not Now, When? Album. When looking up song meanings, one can find a wide array of different stories read into these songs, so we're going to take a look today at the song 'Isadore' from that same album. As I won't be embedding the song, here, I recommend giving it a YouTube search and having a listen before continuing - I think it is a fantastic song to listen to anyway.

     "Erica and her Isadore, climb aboard a balloon...

I want more than this kite will soar, I set our sights on the moon."

     .....Welcome back. Now, allow me to cover two different interpretations of this song. A simple one and a more complicated one. You can make your own mind up as to which one makes the most sense to you, or neither if you have another interpretation.

The First Interpretation - The Complex Narrative

     The first story of this song involves three people. That is Erica, Isadore and the unnamed man from who's perspective the song is sung. The story involving these three is a particularly sad one and is about loss, more specifically the loss of Erica after she gives birth to Isadore and the song is about the narrator coming to terms with the death of his lover. This is where the speculation comes into play - but let's explore this idea.

"It's not who you were, it's who you are, and we've come this far, lover. 

No, I won't rest 'til the world knows the name Isadore."

     The song from the start mentions a metaphor of a balloon, of which we can think of a hot air balloon and reaching an elevated state because of it. So, if Erica, heavily pregnant with Isadore (note the 'her' Isadore and not 'our' Isadore - interesting choice of words, I think.) board a balloon, or engage in some activities that get get 'high up'. However, the narrator is not satisfied with a simple balloon ride and wanted more, even if it was dangerous. This is emphasised by the later line 'blinded by their unbridled height, our lovers turn dissolute.'

     To clarify, Erica, being heavily pregnant, and the narrator have sex and get a little bit carried away. 'Dissolute' explaining the overindulgence factor and 'unbridled' being the uncontrolled factor. With the two protagonists being so deeply in love, they take it 'too far' and are not careful of the baby. Or at least the narrator takes something too far and Erica gets in to a very bad way due to her weakened state.

     'There's just one parachute...' This line is suggesting that with the mother in critical condition, the doctors may only be able to save one of Erica or Isadore. The narrator wanted Erica to survive, but Erica chose Isadore.  The loss of Erica is apparent in the bridge which says '...you can't just leave, you've taken everything.' showing how much Erica meant to the narrator. So we get to the point of the chorus - "...it's not who you were, it's who you are." suggesting the narrator's coming to terms with Erica's death and accepting that she lives on through Isadore. The narrator then vows to do his best to bring Isadore up to be amazing - and won't rest 'til the world knows the name.

The Second Interpretation - The Simpler Narrative

     The story starts with two lovers, who are on their journey together. They both are elevated by the experience, however, one appears to be significantly more ambitious than the other one. The wording of 'her' Isadore as well as 'I set our sights on the Moon' suggests that Erica is more controlling in the relationship, yet Isadore is particularly ambitious and wants more than what they currently have. The reaching for the Moon puts a strain on the relationship.

     "You can't just leave, I've given everything. 

You can't just leave, you're taking everything..."

     The chorus sums up their fighting and desire to keep the relationship together due to having put so much into it. It also reinforces the narrator, Isadore's, ambition to continue on a success path. With the next verse however, they stay together and recklessly ride their high - the success reinforces their relationship for a little while before it gets worse. The quick juggling of lines between the chorus of Isadore's fears of being alone verses the 'lovers becoming dissolute' are reminiscent of continued arguments in an unhealthy relationship.

     Then the song suggests that they've gone so high, but only one can make it. "There's just one parachute. Goodbye Erica, now I see, that all my fears were in tune." This line is stating that now they have reached a high up spot, Isadore realises he can make it further without Erica holding him back and while previously he was terrified of losing her, he now learns that that loss was exactly in tune with his goals - success. Therefore it's not about the past, but who you are now that matters. Overall, he won't rest until the world knows the name Isadore.

     So, there you go. These two are my favourite interpretations of the story. Personally, I think the second one makes a lot more sense as a narrative, but the first one is a lot more emotion evoking as it becomes a really sad song. Whatever you decide as your value to the words - I hope at the very least you enjoyed the song. Of course, thanks for reading.

Pokemon's Canonical History 1/3 - The Origin Myth

This is the creation myth of Pokémon. As Arceus is a Mythical Pokémon and not actually seen, this could all be the belief system of the people in the world, and therefore not what actually happened. All information is taken from in-game lore within the canonical games, therefore is the best understanding we have of the actual history of the Pokémon universe without speculation or fan-theory. Footnotes below.

In the beginning, there was nothing. Then, there was an egg. When the egg hatched, Arceus, The Original One was born and was alone. Arceus had unfathomable power and, knowingly or otherwise, created into being three Pokémon in its image, each with a single purpose. Palkia held power over space, Diagla held power over time, and Giratina held power over Anti-matter. Palkia and Daigla worked together and wished all matter into being. The full extent of Giratina's power and what it created is unknown. However, Arceus then banished Giratina to the 'Distortion World' – an alternate dimension. After Diagla and Palkia had done their job of creation, they picked their respective dimension and slept.

Arceus then brought forth its power once more to create three more Pokemon to benefit the future of all life: Azelf, Uxie, and Mesprit. Azelf gave willpower to life, so that it might act upon its own initiative. Uxie gave knowledge to life, so that it might make informed decisions with its willpower. And Mesprit gave emotions to life, so that life may feel things and give value into being. Together, they wished and created spirit. After giving these gifts to the future of Pokémon, these pixie Pokémon Azelf, Uxie and Mesprit retreated underground on a particular rock, that we know as the Pokémon world. All known life, henceforth, exists on this Pokémon world save for the alien Pokémon Deoxys. [1]

The Pokémon world, at its early stages, was important for two major reasons. Firstly, was that the Spear Pillar at Mt Coronet and some the surrounding landmass of the Sinnoh region likely already existed on the world before anything else, acting as a gateway between the dimensions where Palkia, Diagla, Giratina and Arceus lie dormant. Secondly, the conditions on this planet made it able to sustain life, and so three more beings of power came to inhabit the planet. [2]

First to exist was Rayquaza who was formed in the atmosphere and forever roamed the skies and was master over the other two. Kyogre was formed in the depths of the ocean, who had dominion over the seas, and could create intense rainfall to expand them. Groudon was formed in the magma under the earth and had dominion over land, and could scatter the clouds allowing the sun to dry up the seas. [3] They morphed the world in their vision as they went, changing everything in their path until eventually, and accidentally, they met; each unhappy that the other was undoing their work. Then, a great battle ensued as the rivals fought, throwing the world into chaos. In the midst of their age long battle, Rayquaza descended from the skies and calmed the primal pair. Sapping their energy into blue and red orbs, Rayquaza sent Kyogre to the sea depths and Groudon to below the earth's crust, and there they slept. Rayquaza then ascended to the skies and continued its journey across the very edges of the atmosphere.

Without Groudon, Kyogre and their battle over dominance of nature, the world found a kind of peace; and in this lesser state of flux came the colossus Pokémon, Regigigas. Regigigas had the power to physically shift tectonic plates and went forth to shape the continents and formed the now known regions of Unova, Kanto, Sinnoh, Kalos, Alola, etc., then, the colossus created three more Pokémon in its image. It created Regirock out of clay, Regiice out of ice, and Registeel out of Magma. The four of them roamed the land with significant power.

With this new and habitable world, life sprung into being in the form of Mew, the genome Pokémon. [4] Mew existed in great numbers and were capable of transforming into different forms entirely Some Mew transformed and stayed in their changed form, creating the first ancient Pokémon species. [5] Over the next millions of years, the population of Mew dwindled, as the original Pokémon made way for new species. The first and ancient Pokémon were vast in numbers. [6]

Part 2: The Ancient History

Footnotes.

1. Also, it is possible Lunatone came from space, and Clefairy and Clefable came from the moon. However, they now exist on earth, so these are only in-game theory.
2. It is unknown whether or not this was Arceus who created Rayquaza, Kyogre and Groudon due to accounts claiming he slept after creating Azelf, Uxie and Mesprit. As such, these three Pokémon did not necessarily come into being at the same time, it is possible they formed over millions of years apart.
3. It is speculated by some in the Pokémon world that Kyogre and Groudon initially created the seas and landmasses respectively, though this seems less likely than them simply having the power to control them, as matter was already created by Palkia and Daigla.
4. Though it is unknown exactly how life was created, or if Mew existed even before the battle of Kyogre and Groudon, it is possible that, given the appearance, Uxie, Azelf and Mesprit created Mew in their image, and is what was meant by their wishing of 'spirit' into being.
5. Mew likely made Pokémon Evolution possible as, rather than a subtle shift of adaptation and survivability over time, it was a transforming of individual Pokémon to incur survival for the race and a balance in their eco-system. The genetic capabilities to transform into other Pokémon eventually became the genetic capability for Pokémon to 'evolve'.
6. It is thought that all non-legendary Pokémon originated from Mew, that is all Pokémon capable of evolving, and / or reproducing. It is also worthy of note that the species Unknown may have existed at this time separately to Mew, as while little is known about the species, it neither reproduces nor evolves, yet is capable of ancient power.

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.

Letter To A Princess

           The tavern in question was exactly as it said on the sign: 'The Wood and Wood Inn'; where absolutely everything was wooden, from the cutlery to the windows.

           “How... how am I meant to win her heart?” Vitras wondered. “Her dad'll find a real man soon, so I need to take my chance now!” The tavern was quieter than he was used to, though at quarter past four in the morning, it was to be expected. How could he sleep when so pressed for time to catch his beloved's eye? But for the life of him, he could think of nothing he could do. He slammed his fist onto the table in frustration, making the only other customer in the tavern bolt awake, removing his sodden face from his grog, only to fall back to sleep with a splash.

           Vitras shot the lonely gent a dirty glance and stumbled towards the door ready to leave and find somewhere a little quieter. He paused to think of where to go. Vitras travelled around often, (using the title 'adventurer' where others used the term 'unemployed') yet the only place Vitras could imagine calling home was a small town named Lindell. Of all the backward towns he could like so much, he chose the one where he stood out like cactus amongst baby bums. For a male to have badly cut long brunette hair, it potentially made him a laughing stock – he however called it a trademark and figured it added to his many brilliant traits. At this moment, however, his mind was full of more than just how handsome he was, it was also full of the noble girl he wished to endear to.

           The floor was damp as Vitras stepped outside, mug in hand; he decided he'd head towards a place he knew as 'Rock', which was a place he could think quietly. Being such a travelling rogue, few would think him fond of a girl, so he craved solitude and 'Rock' was perfect for that.

           “Hey, bring my bloody glass back!” The barman burst out of the door of The Wood and Wood (which, if you weren't already aware, was made completely of wood) and snatched the mug from Vitras' hand, locking him with an icy cold stare. “Thief.”

                                                       * * *

           'Rock' was a stand alone boulder on a small hill just by the shore. It was still dark and not particularly warm, though it was as beautiful as always – especially as the sun would soon rise on the perfectly clear horizon. Vitras found himself perched up on the edge of the boulder facing the ocean before he even knew he was there, and whilst feeling the chilly breeze over his hands and cheeks and through his hair, a wet piece of paper slapped him in his face and stuck to him.

           Peeling off the note and wiping his face, he saw writing on the page. The note stated:

           “To whom it may concern,

           I am stuck in a large hole in the sand on the beach and cannot get out. Help me! Help me, please! I would very much appreciate a search party or perhaps a lone traveller with a rope, anything really to help me out of this hole. I am quite scared as the tide seems to be coming in hastily.

           Thank you for reading.

           Yours,

           Julie”

           The sun began to peek over the horizon and Vitras was silhouetted on the boulder with chin on fist and deep in thought.

           “I have it!” Vitras shouted, letting go of the note. “I'll write a letter to my love!” He jumped down from the rock and headed his way towards the Noble’s castle to the east of town: he needed to get help. He could not write to save his life. Or read to save someone else's. He ignored the note.

                                                       * * *

           On the hour long walk to the castle the sun had already risen with a bright cheery face screaming: 'Wakey, wakey! Rise and shine! Full day ahead!' which seemed to be the alarm for most nobles, meaning they had all recently got up to go about their business. From the outside everything seemed mostly quiet aside from chirping birds; happy because the crickets had shut up.

           Swimming a moat and scaling a wall was pretty easy for Vitras, it was always the other side that troubled him. His head made the first loud noise he'd heard all morning when it thumped against an upper room floor. The window he had climbed through seemed to be unnaturally high and as his vision focused he found himself in a bedroom, one that seemed to have been designed by an overly expressive fairy with a fetish for pink.

Brushing himself off, he heard speeding footsteps outside the room and figured someone was about to burst in – not knowing what else to do, he dove under the bed. The bed was only just roomy enough for one person, but he had to crouch a tiny bit to save his head poking out the top. The duvet hung over the edges so he felt safe enough but had to rely on sound. What followed was this: Rattle, shuffle, shuffle, scrape, shuffle, step, step, pause, bump, much louder shuffle, roll, roll. The next thing was feeling someone press tight up against his left hand side.

           Looking over and sharing a few seconds of staring before the girl spoke.

           “...Hey, who are you hiding from?”

           “Umm, you?” Vitras said before a further few seconds of staring.

           “Ahhhhh!” They both yelled at the top of their voices and scurried out from under the bed. Vitras ran out the room, still screaming and down a flight of stairs. He got quieter as he went an turned into a room before finding himself in a corner.

Feeling a tap on his shoulder, he opened one eye and turned around. He was surrounded by books and peering down at him was a hunched and hairy old man in extravagant clothing.

           “Are you okay?” said the man in a very posh accent muffled by a beard.

           “What? Yes. I was, um, just trying to get some bloody attention!” He nodded at himself reassuringly “ ...Yeah, that's what I was doing.” Rushing to his feet and standing as defensively as possible realising that he was a fair bit taller than the elderly man.

           “And wearing clothes like that in a place like this isn't attention enough?” the old man chuckled. “Why are you here then? What kind of attention are you trying to gain? People tend not to run screaming through a library for no reason... usually.”

           “Oh you look the bookish type!” said Vitras.

           “That's not an answer.” He looked over each shoulder at all the surrounding shelves of books after books. “Though I can't imagine how you came to that idea?”

           “I need your help then, can you help me?”

           “...Still not an answer, young man. I'll help you if you answer the questions I need to know.” He rubbed his long straggly beard. “Firstly, what is your name? Next, what is your occupation? How did you get into the castle? Why were you screaming and what do you need help with?”

           “I, um...” Vitras took a moment to note all of the questions in order. “Vitras. I'm a... free-lance jack-of-all-trades. I got into the castle by asking really nicely. I was screaming because there was some girl in her room. I need help to write a letter as soon as possible. Can you write at all, and is there somewhere more... quiet and proper we can go? It's getting creepy in here.” They both looked around the room at the hundred-odd surprised eyes beading their way. The old man raised his bushy eyebrows that almost knocked off his hat, and laughed.

           “The name is Cyrl.” He offered his hand, which Vitras gave a curious look, unsure what to do. “Follow me, if you please.” He dropped his hand. The man span around and waddled slowly towards the door. Vitras, in order to look casual to the peering eyes, leaned back in his walk, trying to act confident, and trying to look like he owned the place. It would have worked, too, if he didn't trip half way and tumble to the floor like someone kicked a rag doll.

                                                       * * *

           Cyrl turned out to be quite an important person, as he was the grandfather of the man who married the Queen's cousin, once removed. For all Cyrl's skill in writing and how helpful he was, Vitras couldn't help but feel the minutes were like hours. Whilst Cyrl tried to find all the right words for something sweet and suited to Vitras, Vitras himself attempted (sort of) to learn to read.

           There were so many books in the old man's private library, there was no knowing where to begin. Everything seemed to be there from a book called 'A Short History Of Ducks: Volume 4' to something called 'The Karma Sutra For Dummies'.

           Cyrl asked many many questions about preferences and ability and what he wanted the tone to be, and Vitras using words from the books tried to write something of his own. Using an alphabet book he'd just used to learn some letters, he wrote: 'A is for Apple, which is juicy like you. B is for 'Be mine', because I want you. C is for... Cat.' Which is only one example of Vitras' work. The others were so badly written and occasionally horrid, that when a boy broke into Cyrl's study a week later and went through his paper bin in order to steal something brilliant for a school project, he vomited in his mouth twice and vowed never to read again.

           After three long hours of writing, Vitras agreed on a note of Cyrl's that was good enough, poetic enough and had a point, he loved it:

           “If I could dream any dream, I would choose you to be my dream, but a dream you will always be if you never consider meeting me. If I wrote how much I loved you on this paper here, I would run out of pages to write of you, my dear. So if I had to choose a place to meet for romance's sake, I would ask you to meet me at twelve by the lake.”

           “Brilliant, I'll just leave it for her to find.” Said Vitras.

           “I could do better with more time, y'know. Let us just pretend those are your words.” Cyrl said, putting on his top hat and giving Vitras a lopsided wink like a large hairy dog.            “Though one last question my lad. Who is this lady you're perusing?”

           “Her name is Leanna. Lives in the royal village, just outside this castle, y'know her?”

           “The Princess?” Cyrl choked. He regained his composure. “Well, good luck then I guess.” He rolled his eyes before giving Vitras another dog-wink.

                                                       * * *

           Downstairs at the ground level, the lobby was bustling with activity; scattered people all going their separate ways. Looking down at his own clothes, Vitras could see he clearly didn't fit in. He decided to try to mingle and head out the main gate, anyway. The exit was two massive wooden doors with smaller people-sized doors in the middle of each. In front of the only operating door were two fully iron clad guards. They were going to be a problem, but the door was his aim and that's the direction he headed.

           Casually mingling with the crowd, Vitras got all the way to the door and placed his hand on the handle as if to stroll out before a voice stopped him, it was the guard to his right. Both guards, however, were motionless and looked directly ahead.

           “Can we 'elp you, sir?”

           “Not really, I'm just on my way out!”

           “Well, may we ask 'ow you got in? Peasant.” Said the left hand guard. The 'Y' shaped gap in their helmets were now fixated on Vitras, and he could feel their eyes rather than see them.

           “Err, I came in earlier in the morning, don't you remember? You didn't say a word then. Or were their different guards on, you all look alike, to me.” Vitras continued to act as cocky as possible. “If it was you, you must have some awful memories, I mean look at the way I'm dressed – you'd think you'd remember!”

           “Careful now, peasant. We don't 'ave to stall this, you could be going right in to the dungeon. We wouldn't let the likes o' you in, so 'ow did you get in?”

           “Well I didn't sneak in, if that's what you think. How dare you! May I take my leave now?” Vitras said to the left guard, who nodded to the right guard who shook his head.

           “Not 'til we get an answer, peasant.” was the reply.

           “Well, even if I did sneak in, surely it's fine for me to just sneak back... out?” Vitras grabbed the door and pushed but the lock held tight. He panicked and backed away from the guards who began to move in towards him. Pushing some passers-by who had gathered to see the commotion, Vitras leapt towards the guards, clambering over one of them and jumping off his head to get purchase on the wall behind. The crowd started making a lot of noise but Vitras didn't look back, he pushed forward on a vertical sea of stone as fast as he could to get to the window at the top. The crowd started to throw things at the escapee-spider, but not one person actually hit him: bits of potato, stones, a book, a fish and an anvil which severely dented the wall.

           Reaching his foot through the kicked open window, he followed through with the other and managed to keep his footing for the descent: better than usual. But after a very short distance he managed to misplace his footing for the second time that day and fell.            Managing to grab onto the lip of the large gate on the outside, he knew he was closer to the ground, regaining himself he made the extra distance and place both feet firmly on the outer drawbridge. Turning around to leave, he came to an abrupt stop at two metal plates.            Looking up, he squeaked at the guards.

           “Ehh, hi?” before each guard grabbed an arm and dragged him back through the now open door. Thrashing about wildly, he realised he could not resist the oafs of security so he sat back and allowed himself to be dragged into the dungeon. After a few seconds, however, he realised he was no longer in possession of his love letter.

           The beautiful note, on beautifully indestructible paper, tied with a beautiful red ribbon gently drifted down the moat towards the river's opening. Vitras was never to know.

                                                       * * *

           “It's so peaceful and romantic here.” Leanna said to herself, sat on a bench by the lake at some time around quarter past twelve.

           The sky could be seen reflected in the water that was shimmering on top and cloudy underneath and about as deep as a house in the middle. It was so shiny on the surface, that the reflection of the moonlight could blind and eagle, and for all the lake was worth, it was as deceiving as an onion painted red to pretend to be an apple.

           People liked to believe their lake was magical. That in the middle was a Sphinx that would ask riddles to passers-by and occasionally fight with the Kraken of the depths for territory as thousands of fish watched on; feeding on the faeries that flew atop the water. As if sparkles fluttered about and it could grant mystical powers such as healing or shape-shifting. None of this was true, however, and everyone knew so. The lake was dead; full of salt, so potent that a human could barely dip in their toe without it dissolving.

           Nevertheless, people loved their lake because it was theirs, it was beautiful, and it was a perfect place for a romantic meeting.

           Leanna, a nice, beautiful young maiden, was watching the wonderful waters when a small piece of paper, wrapped in a ribbon, happened to float by. Being careful of the water, she fished it out and read the note.

           “This is beautiful! Was this for me? It must have been because this would be far too much of a coincidence. I would certainly like to meet this person who is likely to be so very unsuited to me, but I will persuade my father anyway so that we can get married and have lots of middle class children – oh my!” She looked all around the lake to see if anyone was nearby before sitting back down on the bench. She rolled up the scroll and patiently started to wait. Prepared to wait for the man, for the writer of the note; just waiting for her love to arrive. If only he knew.

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.