Secrets of the Tides

The creaking floorboards moaned as I stepped onto the shallow docks.

I was drawn in, the sea beckoning me to sink into its bitter depths.

I’ve felt this force before, long ago like a haunting tide. I recall the way my scales bled, the way the moisture was sucked dry and my limbs tore apart and put itself back together. I was never the same after that–after the sea exiled me.

After ten long years, its song vexed me, screeching and wailing and crying for me to come home. The thing is, I was no longer certain that it was home.

My home rested along the coastline where people are up at sunrise to ride the surf, its clear waters cresting and breaking in swift motion. Every morning I watched from the balcony yearning to be one of them. I stared into the near horizon as they let the waves become one with their movements until they allowed its waters to devour them. Not once did I witness fear form from their faces as their heads bobbed back up to the surface. Most humans I encountered, when I was not yet human, feared the ocean and its turbulent unpredictability–but not these ones. They were ecstatic with bright smiles with a newfound sense of belonging–they looked free.

I found it strange, but also fascinating.

I chose to remain close to the sea, where my people dwelled. Although my curse was to never step foot in its salty shores, we remained at an impasse.

When I had first arrived in the human lands, all I wanted to do was jump back into the sea. But when I did, my flesh screamed in agony and my newfound body refused to revert back into my original form. I didn’t dare try that again. Until tonight.

The moon swelled, full and brilliant as it floated alone in the night sky.

I wanted to return to where I belong, it’s what I’ve always wanted ever since I was discarded like a piece of plastic polluting the sea.

As my foot hovered over the edge of the docks, there was a part of me that didn’t want to jump. I was now a victim of fear. I was more human than ever before, and that scared me to the center of my core.

What should happen if I do jump? Will I regret leaving this life I had built behind me? Will I even care if I did? What if my banishment was never uplifted, and this was a mere trick to punish me.

I’d always feared that by living closer to home, It would take it as me taunting her. I presumed the hurricanes that were sent my way were not a natural phenomenon but a message telling me to move farther from its sight because my mere presence was too painful. But even then, it was too painful to be so far away from her. I tried once, and it was a year I would love to forget.

All merfolk have a sentient connection with the sea. Severing that connection is more than torture, its like killing their own family member except your heart will still beat and your soul will remain intact. But the sea considers you as dead as a bellied up fish.

My punishment affected the ocean like no other. Its cries rang in my ears until they bled, and after a decade I will never forget how much pain I caused the ocean. But I had no choice.

Down, below my feet, a black void swished in a violent motion. Her impatience began to rise. She always did have the temper of a bull shark.

A singular drop of sea water splashed onto my leg, and yelped and bent over clutching onto the burning sensation. A small iridescent scale protruded from the same place I was splashed, red blood gushing from the pierced skin.

I lifted my head up and screamed, “WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? HAVEN’T I ENDURED ENOUGH!”

The sea merely chuckled.

“Please,” I begged, “I don’t know what you want. My life is no longer yours to take! I am no longer one of you, so just let me be and live my mortal life in peace.”

I plugged my ears as a massive pulsing noise that sounded like the cries of every creature in the sea screaming into my head all at once. But covering my ears was useless, because it’s coming from directly inside of my head. I’d forgotten how intense sonar can be after being blocked from all communications for so many years. And the sea is directly sending its rage right for me.

I guess she didn’t like what I had to say. But I had to say it.

I collapsed, backing away from the edge. Home–I needed to get home, away from the ocean. But the sounds were so deafening I could barely move. Thick warm blood trickled down my lobes to my jaw. That’s when I realized she wasn’t calling for me to come home and lift my exile–she was luring me close enough to her so she could kill me.

My breaths got heavier, panting as I dug my long–sharp–nails into the wood, using the grip to pull my entire body weight in the opposite direction. Sand. I needed to get to dry land.

The tides got more violent, and specks of saltwater burned into my skin. More and more scales rose beneath the surface. Each second was a newfound threshold of pain I couldn’t bear. I felt myself almost blackout a few times, slipping in and out of consciousness but I kept on moving.

One thing the ocean will never realize, was that she was the one who raised me, and beneath all this soft flesh and imminent mortality, is the heart of a mermaid.

Everything ached as I moved upwards, legs wobbling and shaking just like when I first arrived on land. Learning how to walk took weeks and each step felt like walking on glass, but nothing was more agonizing than the heartache of mourning the loss of my tail.

The ocean shrieked, and the moon was soon hidden behind grey storm clouds. The blurring lights of the small town guided me like a boat sailing safely towards a lighthouse. I just need to make it up the four flights of stairs where sand meets grass. It’s a steep hill, my beach house sits up on stilts–far enough from the ocean where its threats won’t reach me, but close enough that I can keep an eye on it. An everlasting guilt swims through me at times. It hurts when I’m far away from her, but I also had hurt her for what I had done. And there was no coming back from that. So I chose this as my place to dwell. A safe yet dangerous distance apart.

As I made my way further up the wooden slabs they call stairs, which I would consider more of a safety hazard that the city hasn’t gotten around to renovating, the more hollow her howling became. Though, her tantrum was not near over as she sent a storm my way.

She has tried her best to hit me with coastal erosion or prevailing winds, but land will endure her outbursts just like every time before.