50 Word Stories: When the Spring Tides Come


She peered through a frill of willow tendrils dark eyes glaring. Tied to the river as she'd been the sea, the girl's tail flashed a silver dagger.
I'm ashamed to say I ran when all she wanted was a friend. I dream about her still when the spring tides come.

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The Held Breath

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Golden light filtered through the aquamarine water casting opaque, rippling shadows across the seabed like clouds in a clear blue sky. The sun’s rays were never the same, always beautiful, a living, moving tapestry that rolled across the coral and kelp in endless cycles of underwater perfection. Turtles dove for it, sharks hunted for it, yet she of the periwinkle skin and lavender eyes wanted nothing more than escape. That’s what she told them when they caught her in their net, hauled her into the light, although all they heard was mindless bubbling. Dreams aren’t always worth a held breath.

50 Word Stories: Not For Gold


50 Word Stories: Not For Gold

They offered gold. In shoals of aquamarine mystique, the Mermaids swam towards the moonlit, shipwrecked many in their little, wooden boats. They wouldn’t breach the surface preferring the comforts of liquidity to the surface storm. Refusing their gold was easy, (too heavy) refusing them, the hardest thing we ever did. 

Beneath, Below, I Go.

The sea rose in tumultuous swells rocking my small boat like a hammock in a hurricane. With each undulation I would rise up to God, stretch out my hands in prayer, only to be dragged away. The sky had never seemed so near yet so far.

I’d grown long past the point of uneasiness, my stomach having vacated it’s contents the previous evening. All that remained was my soul — I wasn’t ready to give it up without a fight. With no food and only half a bottle of tepid water, I knew time against me, but I refused to yield; I owed it to the others. That’s when I saw her. That’s when I knew hope.

She dipped up and down like a buoy brought to life, a demarcation to more hazardous waters — weren’t they all. I rubbed my eyes but only managed to knead salt into them. By the time I’d finished blinking, her aquamarine fingers clung to the boat.

I backed away — for what good that extra foot did — and waited as she peeped over the rotting wood; she was the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. More defined than a dream, yet more surreal than reality, her topaz eyes took me in appraising me from head to toe. I should’ve been honoured to be gazed upon by such as she, but I felt violated if truth be known, though I was unsure why. Lascivious, I might have said if pushed. Yes, lascivious; her eyes revealed her thoughts.

You are lost.

It was not a question just a statement of fact. I nodded my agreement.

They will not come for you.

Again, I dipped my head.

Come.

She offered me a hand of coral rings, her nails pearlescent in the wavering light.

I took it — wouldn’t any man — my mouth unwilling to spill the questions it contained. And, as I lowered myself into the dark water, I saw it, her tail, extending away in twinkling starbursts.

I will take care of you.

She whispered the words like the wind in a conch, a distant memory of lands once visited. “Where?” I managed as I struggled to keep my head above water.

Beneath, below, is where we go. Beneath, below, forever.

We dipped beneath the ocean, her lips about mine, feeding me the air I required. Through the dark and turbulent waters we swept, I marvelling, she unmoved. And when we’d gone as far as man might, we dipped again into fantasy. She did indeed lead me beneath, below, and I knew I’d never return.

The End.

Lost in Liquidity

In the heart of the ocean,

Where turquoise slips to blue,

A mermaid tears pour forth.

She weeps for the kelp

That strain for the light

And the fish that play in their tendrilike yards.

She cries for the wrecks 

And the souls lost to sea,

The sailors and sailed,

And those creatures they hunted.

She pours out emotion

To small beasts and large,

From leviathan to coral,

And each grain of sand.

Inconsolable, she hides her face

Behind viridian fingers

And rues her lot.

For most of all, she weeps for herself,

And the loss of her flickering realm.

She is the last of her kind,

No more of the mer-folk remain.

Like her tears, they’ve diluted away 

And shall never return.

As lost in liquidity

As they are to time,

The ocean all the poorer for it.