Mermaids

Peter, Peter, they call his name. Peter, come to us, come so we may look upon you, man-child.

"Why?" he laughs at them in his own tongue, laughs with his young voice like a bell; a sea-bell, and not one like that of the men. Pirates, Peter said that was their name. A strange word for them, they have no need of such terms. Especially not for men whose very flesh reeks of misery. They are no-good, foul tasting food and that is all.

Peter, Peter, they ignore his question and wave their tails under the water, causing ripples, enticing ripples, in the lapping waves. They know that he will not resist them.

Peter comes closer.

He has grown, the man-child has, on his journey to there and back. There is a new story hidden behind his eyes, eyes which now do not accept everything if it is only a game, but eyes that question.

Peter, Peter, they sigh and come closer, drinking in his confusion deeply. What have you done, man-child? Where have you gone?

They remember the nothingness of the deep from whence they were called, when they trafficked with the darkness in souls, and fought amongst themselves to their deaths. Their madness was their food, and their treachery their drink. They remember how soothing the moonlight was, until he came and showed them the surface.

He had summoned them to come up to him, when land became parted from sea in the manner it never was before. He came to the world where fairies were born, flitting from dream cloud to wisp of wind until they could find their way to the human world. The dirty, silly things, with their bright light and vanity, always frequented gardens where they were accepted by some young man-child of the other place. Until they became older, and pronounced them out of life. But this man-child loved the fairies, and made them take him to their own land. And then the changes began.

As the sea became different, he talked to them and their sisters, the man-child would; and tamed them, with his laughing looks and pure soul. He made them crave nothing more than to listen to his music, and recount the mysteries they saw. They were powerless against his will, for he was the first of his kind and as long as they existed they had to obey. Thus they became his spies, telling him the doings of the men.

He frowns. "What is it to you where I have gone?" Peter demands.

But they give him no answer, letting the waves washing up against the shore fill in the silence. Hush, hush, hush, the water whispers and an echo of the pirates' drunken revelry carries across the bay. The air becomes sweetly foul and they know they will have more bones with which to build their dwellings that night.

The cove is illuminated by the half-full moon coming out from behind the clouds and one of their company raises her head and swims towards him.

She looks at him and simply raises a hand, placing it carefully on his arm, claws dulled, for the moment. Slowly, slowly, she strokes the dry child-skin and watches his reaction. She has done this before, once, and Peter did not shudder, or become startled; but merely gave her a questioning look. Now, however, after he has been to the other world and seen something he will not tell them, he breathes inward sharply and leans away. She hisses, softly, looking at her sister-kind, and tells them.

They nod, they understand; even when he does not. They see this ruthless man-child has developed a heart.

She can barely fight the urge to rip it out.

"Oh, how sweet! Are mermaids not sweet?"
"They will sweetly drown you if you get too close..."