The story of a young man’s deep desire to be known by someone else. What he doesn’t know is that the only person who can truly appreciate him is a merwoman, destined to live her life just out of his reach. [25 min]
Excerpt:
Tyler wobbled, like walking across the bridge of a ship on a stormy sea with no sea legs to support him. Wave after wave broke underneath, and he could feel the spray, smell the pungent saltiness, the rotten fish, the seagull shit… Oh God, he thought, I’m so going to be sick. He tried to keep a straight path on the creaky planks. He looked down through the wide fissures between the boards, focused on the whitewater breaking against the pilings that reflected the multicolored lights from the restaurants and bars on the Santa Barbara wharf. See, the ocean is underneath, that’s what is moving. I’m on solid ground. He stomped his foot to prove his point, lost his balance, and almost went sprawling on the planks. His hand grasped for support from the splintery railing, but instead squished some eyeless remnant of the daily catch. That was enough to convince him that there was only one thing left to do. So he leaned over the banister, and he did it.
And that’s when he heard her screaming.
There’s something comforting about the monsters of category horror. Vampires, werewolves, zombies and ghouls - we’ve seen them all so many times that they’re familiar. We know how they act; we know how they work. (Doubt it? Just say the word “sparkle” to a serious fan of vampire fiction and see how they react. Odds are good you’ll get an enraged “Vampires aren’t LIKE that!”) They’re shorthand to a certain set of storytelling conventions and rules, and once you see the first bared fang you know exactly what the ground rules are. The world, in short, is defined by its monsters, and by the same token, defines them.
Loved this short story – Leaves you longing for more…much like poor Tyler!
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