Meraki: A Syren Story

Chapter One

Have you ever been so tired that even the effort of falling asleep felt like too much work? Well, I have numerous times, and once again this is where I find myself now.

Technically, I find myself drifting about twenty-two miles south of my bed where I should be asleep, but I cannot go back. Not yet.

Maybe not ever. Maybe that's why I am so damn exhausted. Everyone assumes sea creatures have terrible memories because of lower intelligence, but after three weeks of being underwater, I barely remember my name. At least common fish have the intellect to turn off half their brains to get some rest, but me? No such luck.

I did try to sleep at some stage last week, but yet again, the nightmares sought me out. No matter where I go, they follow.

Instead, I drift and think.... I float and fret.

I begin to hum to myself just to hear another sound, but I cut my tune short. The last thing I need is a pod of whales accidentally summoned to my side. I'm beginning to worry I've conceived every thought possible when I feel a disturbance in the water.

A ripple against my core. It's too small to be a typhoon, yet too large to be the lurking shark who had its beady eye on me for days now.

Straining my eyes to peer through the murky waters, I spot a heavy net drifting downward. It unravels silently and opens its mouth wide like a hungry beast.

There should be no fishermen here, especially at this time of year. Trawling in these waters is always dangerous, but only a desperate fool would venture this far North in winter. Although by the large gaps in their netting that most fish would easily swim through, this fisherman was indeed a fool. Unless he was hunting for a were-dolphin; one of those beasts would keep a family fed for the entire winter.

Weeks of boredom and an inbuilt hunger for curiosity compelled me to swim closer. They did not even have an icebreaker attached to their hull!

Perhaps it would be kinder for me to take them hostage and present them as an offering to the Queen. It could be a win-win situation. I would prevent his slow painful end as he inevitably froze to death, and I might not be immediately turned away from the Queendom gates if I bring her a plaything.

I glide to the left to get a better look at the lone boat blocking the weak winter sun as it looms closer. Then I see it, that crest on the side. This is a royal vessel.

The gills lining my side flare in disbelief, sending a stream of bubbles to the surface. Without hesitating I pump my tail, propelling myself under the keel and out the other side. The boat rotates faster than I thought possible for such a long vessel.

The groan of the wood is muffled but audible underwater as the boat is pushed to its limit to keep up with me. To track me.

Living by dark waters means one must forego paranoia from a young age, otherwise shear insanity would break you.

Every sound, every flash of scales would feel like a threat. One must learn to silence the fear in order to live. Yet as I see the large net aim directly for me, I loathe myself for shunning the fear. I should have been afraid. I should have swum away.

With the net closing in to my left and the jagged rocks of the coastline to my right, the open pool before me is my last resort.

I prepare to lurch forward but pause. I taste the subtle change in salinity. I feel the temperature ever so slightly increase against my skin and notice the smoother, smaller pebbles on the seafloor that's rising quickly to meet me. They're trying to corral me into the shallow cove.