A Crash, A Song, A Wave

Chapter 9

TW in the description
No Art

Alberto POV

A sound.

No.

A Song.

It was....

Alberto couldn't get a grasp on the sound.

It was both rage-filled and terrified.

Lonely while also wanting to be alone.

It was conflict.

It was confusion.

Alberto didn't like the Song, but he didn't interrupt it either. He listened, and he understood. The turmoil of this song matched the internal war within himself.

But just as he came to understand the melody, it faded away.

Then there was - silence.

~.~.~.~

A sweet taste on his tongue. It jerked Alberto back to reality. His eyes cracked open as he drank the foreign liquid.

"See, I told ye. Pepped him right up it did."

A gruff male voice said from a little ways away.

"It was my idea in the first place, Grunge. You didn't want to waste it on him."

A female voice.

"What d'ya say?" The male called.

"I said it was my idea in the first place!" The female voice hollered.

"Whaaat? Speak up, woman."

"I SAID IT WAS MY I— oh, forget it, deaf old toad." She said.

As soon as the taste registered on his tongue, Alberto gulped it greedily. It was rich, sweet, and refreshing all at once. He took three more heavy gulps before turning his head and gasping for air in his gills.

"Don' you let any of that milk spill, boy, that stuff is worth its weight in pearls."

Alberto found the strength to open his eyes. Instantly the world around him spun, and he clutched at his head.

"Easy there, youngin," The female voice spoke, "You knocked your head pretty good."

Alberto blinked until his eyes focused. He was propped up on a soft seagrass bed inside a clay home.

"Wh— where am I?" He asked.

"You're at the ol' Azlo farm. Found ye banged up pretty bad not far from here. Good thing we found ya before you sank too the deep."

It was the male that spoke to him. With his eyes focused, Alberto could better see his rescuers. They were an elderly couple, well into their wise years. But something about them instantly captured his attention.

They weren't Sireni or Rusalki.

A new species of Merfolk.

"Thank you," Alberto said, his memory returning to him. He cursed as another pang ran through his head.

The older woman scooped up a small finger full of green sludge and began smearing it across Alberto's wounded head. The relief was instant as the sludge soothed his pain.

"That big ol' she-devil got you, good son."

"Yeah, she definitely got the better of me," Alberto said, remembering the impact of the giant creature.

"We know better around these parts than to swim with the Devils. Only the bravest, or the stupidest, try it."

"I'm probably the latter," Alberto said with a grin.