Her Merman Prince

They say, “The sea has always been a fickle mistress. The Master of deception. But I wasn’t the person to believe in superstitions. Not until my dad became the victim to its bloody clutches, vanishing beneath the deceptively calm surface.

And left behind him was an orphan who had to navigate through her life with the whispers of mermaids with deadly songs.

I was standing at the edge of the pier. My dark hair whips with the salty air, across my face. I was looking at the orange and purple hues of a beautiful sunset, which felt like a mockery of my inner sadness.

A worn out piece of parchment, the last letter of my dad was clutched in my hand. The cryptic warnings against the deadly creatures that were living in the depths of our sea.

“Tania,” the familiar voice of my friend Miran echoed in the eerie silence. She looked concerned as she approached me. “What are you doing here alone?”

“Nothing,” I said, looking at her, “just thinking.”

She nodded, but then her gaze fell to the parchment in my hand.

“You seriously are thinking about it, aren’t you?” She was exasperated at my decision to go into the sea to find out the truth behind my dad’s shipwreck.

“Yes, and you should know I have to because there’s no other way.” I pulled a heavy sigh and tucked the parchment into my jacket.

“Of course there’s a way, just let it be. Leave it Tania, it’s in the past now.”

I knew she was looking out for me, but how could I leave it behind when I was having nightmares about it? I felt like the sea was calling me. I tried it many times, but I couldn’t ignore the pull anymore.

“It’s been ten years and I haven’t got answers from anyone Miran, you don’t understand but something is gnawing at my chest constantly. I need answers.”

Her eyes softened,” I know Tania, believe me I know but you can’t throw away the life you’ve built so passionately”.

My resolve to find out the truth was strengthening because it wasn’t just about finding answers but it was about unraveling the truth. The mysterious stories of merfolks--seemed to me more than just sailors tales and scientists research. There seemed to be something more, something darker hidden out there into the deadly depths.

“Someone needs to prove the hidden truths.” And as if on cue I heard a haunted melody across the waters, sending cold shivers down my spine.

Miran’s eyes widened and she took a step back instinctively. “You heard that” she whispered and I nodded.

“That’s the reason I need to go out there in open waters, whatever is out there is very much real and dangerous.”

Like a violent wave that horrible night’s memory crashed over me. I was eleven,waiting for dad’s return from his expedition. There was a violent storm hitting our coastal areas. Thunders and lightning illuminated the waves that were thrashing on our shores. I was scared, sitting on my window sill waiting for any news about my dad. But when the news came it crushed the eleven years old me.

I still have nightmares about the grim voice of the Coast Guard: “I’m sorry, my child, there was a shipwreck and Mr. Torres and his crew couldn’t make it.”

After that day rumors started to spread in our town. There were murmurs of unearthly wails being heard before the storm hit our shores. Some fishermen claimed to see pale inhuman faces glaring from waves. Then there were wild scratches on wrecked ships that couldn’t be made by any known creatures of the sea.

But the thing that shook me to the core was my dad’s recovered parchment. The last entry was hardly illegible, “It’s real, God help us, they’re real. And they’re not what we speculated. If you’re reading my journal Tania, stay away from—-”

The rest of the parchment was damaged by water, leaving behind uncertainty. Walking back towards the town, the weight of what I was going to do settled over me like a heavy fog.

I had worked my ass out navigating through life. It wasn’t easy for an orphan to keep her life afloat in the absence of her parents, but I did that and struggled hard. I juggled between my studies and work shifts when kids my age were playing and partying.

___________

Back at home I was sitting on my cozy bed, surrounded by half-faded photographs, old crumpled newspapers, and sketches of “The solace”, my dad’s ship.

The wrecked ship was discovered a couple of years ago. Its broken pieces were washed ashore, but the reason for the ship’s destruction was a mystery no one could solve.

People have their own theories, of course. Some said it was some enemy’s revenge, but most put blame on mermaids, the mythical sirens that have been haunting the seas for centuries, luring unsuspecting sailors in their deadly grips.

My eyes darted back again to the glaring words of the newspaper article,” Bio marine scientist, Mr. Noah Torres claims mermaids existence.” He has always been ridiculed due to his conflicting theories about intelligent life hidden beneath the sea.

I don’t know if mermaids exist or not but my dad existed. And he had fallen prey to something dark and ruthless. There was something more, not just mermaids. And I needed to find it.

I considered calling the coastal town where Dad’s ship was set on sail for his final journey to collect evidence for his research on merfolks.

I had called them several times and had sent dozens of emails, but no one was giving me genuine answers, just tired warnings of staying away, don’t come near the cursed waters, and now after attempts of many months, there’s no response at all.

I can’t ignore it anymore. The pull to find the truth behind his death is too strong. The next morning, I reached the docks of the coastal town where “solace” was last seen by people. I stared at the waves, deep in thought, when I heard a gravelly voice.

“A university student at this place, strange isn’t it?” I spun around and saw an old man seeing me like a hawk. I shook my head.

“No, I’m just looking around,”

He chuckled without any trace of humor,” Here is nothing left to look at and if you’re looking for answers kid, you need to turn around and go straight there from where you came. This place is only trouble.”

I squared my shoulders, not scared a bit, “I’m here to look for ‘solace’.” My dad was the captain of “solace”.

His expression suddenly darkened further, “That’s why I was finding you so familiar? thought he warned you to stay away, didn’t he?”

“Who---who warned me? My voice rose with anxiety.

“The ocean,” his voice was a mere whisper now. “It doesn’t like outsiders poking their noses where they didn’t belong.”

I wanted to ask more, but he shuffled away without a word. I walked along the shore, frustrated, and wasn’t going to sit back frightened by a mere cryptic warning.

I wasn’t chasing useless fantasies, and to prove it, there had to be some clues, some remnants of “solace”, something, anything. I walked along the shore following the waves. I was agitated. Why was he acting like it was some curse to talk about “solace” and its crew. Why was it so difficult to get answers?

Nearing the rocks, my eye caught something sharp, something jagged. I tried to pull it out, but it was stuck in, so I crouched down and, with some force, managed to pull it up. Seeing it, my breath caught in my throat.

It was looking like an ordinary piece of wood, jagged, splintered but without doubt from a ship. With trembling hands I looked it over, turning it and then I saw them.

The claw marks. Angry, deep claw marks carved into the wood piece. It seemed like with violent force someone’s nails torn through it. I ran my fingers over gashes, it wasn’t natural.

I stood, my mind spinning with thoughts. These marks weren’t coincident; they were a sign of some violence decades ago. Something or someone had destroyed “solace.”

I was standing at the sea,a wooden piece of wrecked ship heavy in my hand, when from the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow move beneath the water surface.