Hau the Merman: Part One (special preview)

The strange cries came from the shore after a horrible storm. I had thought it might just be the gulls celebrating a wonderful feast, but the more I listened, the stranger the sounds became. Despite the persistent rain, I traversed down the rocky path towards the strange sounds.

It was as cold as hell and my whole body seemed prepared to be dashed upon the rocks with as choppy as the sea was. I climbed down the narrow path, managing somehow to keep the lantern in my hand. I was used to being wet, but something about this weather had me worried.

I finally lowered myself down onto the beach which was covered in large chunks of coral and debris from the reef forest. The cries were closer than ever and, as I raised my lantern, I noticed a mass caught against the dock.

The old dock had seen better days, and lately all it had seen were storms upon storms and the planks were beginning to show signs of rot. Halfway down was where the cries came from, louder than sirens, and much more unearthly than the sound of harpies. I knelt over the dock, grasping hold of what looked like netting tangled with coral and massive amounts of seaweed.  Once I had this bizarre package on the dock, I used my knife to open it up to the shrieking from within.

There were two, small wriggling shapes within. They thrashed and screamed in terror, unable to move much beyond that. My breath was taken away and, as rain pelted me and froze my body, I noticed neither. I reached out to one of the small things; it had hands and feet, and shimmered like the ocean waters on a sunny day. They screamed and hissed at my touch while the other began to calm, maybe even fall asleep.

They were babies.

I used the netting to create a sling so I could carry them upon my back. I somehow managed to climb the rocky slope back to the lighthouse with them in tow. Once inside I could inspect them properly and make sure they were taken care of.

I had heard tales of sea monsters that used the reef forest for protection against the many fishing vessels that permeated the waters these days. In all my time at the lighthouse I had never seen proof of those stories until now. The two tiny creatures that wriggled before me appeared amphibious, as they were able to breathe without water. They were also injured and bleeding, and possibly starving. I worked through the night to keep them alive. I managed to find something they would eat, which was mashed fish. And by dawn they had fallen into a peaceful slumber.

The best I could figure was that they were carried away by the storm. Judging from all the coral I saw washed up on shore, they never stood a chance. They were possibly ripped away from their family with no hope of survival. They were so small and looked like soft little jewels.

They looked very similar, but one was more blue while the other was tinged more purple. They had white-pink bellies, which went down the backs of their arms and legs to the soles of their feet and the palms of their hands which were also webbed. They had signs of fins emerging, but they must have been very young, possibly even newborns.

All I could do was watch them. I was in an overwhelmed state, and it was all I could do to keep from breaking down. I sat there, gazing, awe inspired by what the reef forest gave me. I had lost my children when they were young, and now these two souls washed upon the shore.

I had come to this lighthouse out of desperation in an attempt to escape my grief. I was far from home and placed in a world I didn’t belong. I tended to the lighthouse to keep ships away from the dangerous reef forest where no soul outside the waters could survive.

One of the babies began to stir, fussing and grabbing at the bandage around their arm. I picked them up from the crib and they started squawking and thrashing their arms. I cooed to them, gently rocked them. As I sang to them, the little one began to calm.

I tried to keep my breathing even, but I was near panic at every second. I sat down with the tiny sea creature in my arms, only able to subdue my trembling by rocking the little one to sleep. I leaned back and tears trailed down my face. What was I to do? Could I dare to believe this was a blessing? No. I was never blessed.

Once the rains had subsided I took the two little ones back down to the beach. I thought that their family would be looking for them, so I placed them near the shore and I went back further towards the craggy wall. They splashed around in the water and rolled about in the wet sand. They were too small to walk and they seemed afraid to go too deep into the water. The little blue one looked up at me from their belly and started crawling my way.

“No, no!” I shook my head at them. “Go back to the water. Go! Shoo.”

It kept crawling towards me, making that soft little squawking noise.

I was near breaking down. “I can’t take care of you! I’m not your mother!”

The blue one was before me and reached out for me.

I dropped my head. “I can’t...I can’t...” I had resigned myself to loneliness, to suffering the death of my family in silence. I marooned myself in this desolate place, I knew my lot in life.

The blue one croaked loudly at me and I opened my tear filled eyes. I picked them up from the sand and held them to my chest. They curled up soundly, kneading their little hands into my skin. The purple one was watching, gazing blankly at me from a hole dug in damp sand.

“It’s getting late,” I whimpered. “Come now.” I scooped up the purple one and took the babies back home with me.

Each day I took them to the beach, letting them play in the shallow while I waited in the shadows of the rocks. No one came for them, and they always returned to my side when they were tired or hungry.

Over time they learned to stand on their two long legs and were able to toddle around. More time passed and they were able to croak out words and noises to talk to me.

I named the blue one Hana and the purple one Mali. I knew I was a fool to name them, that would be the end of us. Deep down I knew I wouldn’t be allowed to keep them, that wasn’t my lot in life. I was one of those few who watched the world burn around them and somehow remained alive. I wasn’t a survivor, I was a spectator.

Hana and Mali grew into their fins and were able to swim further beyond the shore. Despite this, they always came back to me when they grew tired or hungry.

One afternoon, Mali came running up to me with something in her mouth. She spit it out before me and pointed. “Fish! Fish!” While her mouth was open, I could see sharp teeth recede back, and on the fish there was a very distinct line of bite marks.

“Mali-” I said breathlessly. “Very good! For many reasons!”

Hana soon came running up, also with something in her mouth she spit out. It was a giant sea snail the size of my fist.

“Fish! Fish!” Hana squealed excitedly.

I pulled them into my arms, holding them tight. “I’m so proud of you both. You’re talking and fishing!”

They hugged me back, soaking through my clothes, but it didn’t matter. That evening we served Mali’s fish, and the sea snail turned into a pet they named, well, Fish.

One evening as I was tucking them into bed, Mali tugged on my hand. “Fish. Fish.”

I hesitated as I tried to figure out what they were saying. Mali pulled on me and the look in their eyes made me understand.

“Mama,” I laid my hand on my chest. “You can call me Mama.”