 |
| 'Moss' by Sandra Lara (http://www.flickr.com/people/cambiodefractal/) |
There are dozens of other stories born of each tale we tell. There are stories which travel in different directions than their parents. Like embers from a fire, these asides are often overlooked, but hold within themselves the potential for a beautiful dance of flames, or a horrible conflagration.
When Hook ordered his crew to bombard black tooth cove and take the fight directly to Peter and the lost boys, they also managed to add another enemy to their already long list of enemies: the mermaids who made their home there. A mermaid's wrath is a slow, painful thing. Perhaps, that has something to do with the nature of the creature.
The juvenile mermaid is hardly a threat to anyone. Her teeth and claws are dull and her powers of allure are like those of young virgins: unrealized at their worst, and undirected at their very best. Her breasts are small and her hair too wild and too short to distract from her grotesque shell shaped ears. They linger along the shore mostly, as all young sea dwellers know that shore is the best place to practice hunting.
When Hook ordered his crew to bombard black tooth cove and take the fight directly to Peter and the lost boys, they also managed to add another enemy to their already long list of enemies: the mermaids who made their home there. A mermaid's wrath is a slow, painful thing. Perhaps, that has something to do with the nature of the creature.
The juvenile mermaid is hardly a threat to anyone. Her teeth and claws are dull and her powers of allure are like those of young virgins: unrealized at their worst, and undirected at their very best. Her breasts are small and her hair too wild and too short to distract from her grotesque shell shaped ears. They linger along the shore mostly, as all young sea dwellers know that shore is the best place to practice hunting.
The adult mermaid is quite better off. Her breasts are full and her hair luxurious, and in the water her speed and strength are unmatched.
The elder Sea Hag, on the other hand, looks precisely as frightening as on would imagine, though not because she is ugly. After about a century or so the sea turns her hair a pale green and she carries her breasts lower than in her youth. Though in certain cases; when she is gliding through the water, or when seen from a distance, or after months at sea surrounded by irritable, swarthy men, this is hardly a deterrent. After all, she still has dark, round nipples which certain men find alluring the way a wet tongue exploring bright red lips can distract the mind from the absence of certain teeth. Or the way the smell of cheap perfume on a lady of the night can cause lust and curiosity to override fear or self-righteousness. No, the Sea Hag is terrifying because, for as much as she is obviously inhuman, to a man longing for the comfort of solid land beneath his feet, she is irresistibly beautiful.
The Hag also has a voice, one which defies simple description. Simply put, it is the kind of voice that can cause as much as five fine, regular men to cast off the thrill of battle and clamor quickly and stupidly into the sea.
The Hag also has a voice, one which defies simple description. Simply put, it is the kind of voice that can cause as much as five fine, regular men to cast off the thrill of battle and clamor quickly and stupidly into the sea.
"MAN OVERBOARD!" The call raced along the starboard side, from bow to stern. By the time the crew had assembled for a rescue three of the men were already eaten. A fourth man, the salty brigand known as Jonas Black, was seen in the water laughing and weeping simultaneously. The mermaids had surrounded him. Four of them swam with him at the surface of the water. Their hands caressed his sun-beaten skin. Their teeth sank deep into the flesh of his chest, his belly, and his legs. A single hand grasped passionately at his matted hair. Later, at his wake, the men would remember that the only time Jonas had responded to something with anything more than a miserable grunt was that day.
"Don't save me, gents" he'd manage to say just as he kicked away the buoy and rope meant to save his life, or at least give him hope. "Oh god. Oh heaven. Oh hell what awaits me! If ye could feel what I'm feeling ye'd beg for the same. Don't ye dare save me!"
At that moment the sky, the sea, and everything around him had grown exceptionally bright in Jonas’ eyes. Several points of light danced before his eyes. The sensation of the mermaids' hands carried his mind to a time long ago, a time long before the salt water casually filled his mouth and attempted to ease its way down his throat. He'd had too much to drink in some port town or the other, they all had. The entire crew, with the exception of the Captain, had filled themselves up to the gills with grog and native honey-wine. But the bar wench, who some said had taken a shine to Jonas, allowed him to sleep it off by burying his beard in her mountainous bosoms. It was the only act of affection he'd ever been shown, and in his secret mind Jonas called it love.
At that moment the sky, the sea, and everything around him had grown exceptionally bright in Jonas’ eyes. Several points of light danced before his eyes. The sensation of the mermaids' hands carried his mind to a time long ago, a time long before the salt water casually filled his mouth and attempted to ease its way down his throat. He'd had too much to drink in some port town or the other, they all had. The entire crew, with the exception of the Captain, had filled themselves up to the gills with grog and native honey-wine. But the bar wench, who some said had taken a shine to Jonas, allowed him to sleep it off by burying his beard in her mountainous bosoms. It was the only act of affection he'd ever been shown, and in his secret mind Jonas called it love.
The feel of the mouths on his flesh now was something immensely better than this…love. The saltwater had been burning his eyes for so long now. The pressure at that depth hurt his ears, and each breath of brine was like fire in his lungs. It was all so exquisite, even as the dancing points of light faded into the stark white glow of death.
0 comments:
Post a Comment