A Mermaid for the Lonely

𝒩𝑒𝓌 𝒫𝑜𝓈𝓈𝒾𝒷𝒾𝓁𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓈

Lyam found himself returning to the lagoon more often than he cared to admit. Days stretched into weeks, and each afternoon, he wandered down the familiar rocky path that led to the secluded cove. He couldn't fully explain why he kept coming back. Perhaps it was because, in Sirène, he found something different—a strange solace that dulled the edge of his grief. She didn't judge or offer empty comfort. She just listened, as if every word, every feeling, was a new piece of a puzzle she was desperate to solve.

Sometimes she would be there, gliding through the water with her dark pink tail flashing in the sunlight. Other times, she wouldn't. But when she appeared, their conversations flowed like the gentle waves around them, deepening in strange ways with each meeting. He talked about his past, his loss, and the pain that followed him like a shadow. But today, their conversation took an unexpected turn.

Lyam sat on the rocks, legs dangling over the edge, while Sirène rested in the water below. She drifted close enough that he could see the way her long pink hair tangled in the currents, her wide silver eyes gazing up at him with that same quiet curiosity.

"There's a festival in town soon," Lyam mentioned, almost offhandedly. "They do it every year."

Sirène blinked, her head tilting in that way she often did when she didn't quite understand. "A festival? What is that?"

"It's a celebration," Lyam explained. "People gather in the village, play music, eat food, and light up the streets with lanterns. It's... I guess it's meant to bring people together."

"Why would they do that?" she asked, her voice soft but genuinely puzzled. "Why would humans gather for such an event?"

Lyam paused, realizing how foreign such an idea must sound to someone like her. "Well, I guess it's because it makes people happy. It's a chance to be with others, to share something good."

Sirène's silver eyes narrowed slightly as if she were trying to comprehend the idea. "Happiness," she repeated. "A positive feeling. You haven't talked about that before."

Lyam chuckled, though there was little humor in it. "I guess I don't have much of it these days."

"But you must have, once," Sirène pressed. "To know what it feels like, to describe it."For a moment, Lyam was quiet, his gaze drifting out to the horizon. He hadn't thought about happiness in a long time. The memories were there, buried deep, but they were distant—like a dream that faded as soon as you woke. "Yeah," he admitted finally, "there was a time when things felt lighter. I used to go to the festival with... her. We'd dance and laugh, and everything felt so... bright."

He stopped, the memories tugging at his chest, but this time, the pain wasn't as sharp. It was strange—talking to Sirène, who had no experience of these emotions, allowed him to reflect on them in a new way, as though he were explaining feelings to someone for the first time.

Sirène's voice pulled him back. "Humans gather to experience these positive feelings together? 

That is... fascinating."

"Yeah, I guess it is," Lyam said, a small smile playing at his lips. "It's about sharing the good times with others. It makes everything feel more... real."

She remained silent for a moment, her wide eyes searching his face as if trying to grasp the concept. "And you are not going to this festival?"

Lyam shrugged, glancing down at his feet. "I don't see the point. I don't have anyone to share it with anymore."

Sirène's brow furrowed, though her face held the same expressionless calm. "But you could still experience this happiness, even alone, yes?"

He laughed quietly. "Not really the same. Besides, it's hard to enjoy something like that without... someone else."

Sirène remained quiet for a moment longer, then her eyes brightened with a sudden thought. "What if I went with you?"

Lyam stared at her, his mouth half-open in disbelief. "You?"

"Yes," she said, her tone steady. "If this festival is about sharing joy with someone, I could go with you, and you could explain it to me. I wish to understand."

Lyam shook his head, still stunned by the suggestion. "But how? I mean... you're a mermaid, Sirène. You don't have... legs."

She glanced down at her tail, the dark pink fins glimmering in the sunlight, before looking back up at him, as calm as ever. "I could find a way."

Lyam raised an eyebrow. "Find a way? How would you do that?"

Sirène's gaze shifted slightly, as if she were thinking through something she had never considered before. "There are old tales," she began slowly, "of merfolk who ventured onto land. It is not magic that gives us legs, but certain... materials from the ocean. Seaweeds that grow deep below the surface. When woven together and worn, they can give a mermaid legs for a short time."

Lyam blinked in astonishment. "You're telling me you can just... make legs with seaweed?"

"It is not as simple as that," Sirène replied, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "The change is temporary, and it is dangerous. If I stay on land for too long, I will be lost to it. I could die. Merfolk are meant to be part of the ocean. We are not meant to live above it."

His gaze softened. "Then why would you want to risk that? Just to go to a festival?"

"I want to understand," she said, her voice firm and unwavering. "This world you speak of, the feelings you describe... they are different from anything I know. I want to experience them, even if it is only for a short time."

Lyam stared at her, his heart pounding. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. For someone like Sirène—someone so tied to the sea, so distant from the human world—to be willing to risk her life just to experience something as simple as joy, it was almost incomprehensible.

"You've never done this before?" he asked, his voice quiet with disbelief.

"No," she answered. "There are too many dangers. Merfolk who go to the surface without a guide often become lost, unable to find their way back to the ocean. They wander until they die."Lyam swallowed, the weight of her words settling over him like the mist that clung to the shore. 

"But... you'd be with me. You wouldn't be alone."

Sirène's eyes flicked up to meet his, and for the first time, he thought he saw something in them—something like hope, or maybe curiosity, shining in the depths of her silver gaze.

"Yes," she said softly. "You would be my guide."

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks filled the silence between them, and Lyam felt a strange, unspoken connection forming—a bond that stretched across the divide between their worlds.

Finally, Lyam let out a slow breath. "If you're sure... I mean, if you really want to do this, I'll help you."

Sirène nodded, her expression as calm and serene as ever. "I will prepare what I need. We can go to the festival together."

Lyam couldn't believe it. Just a few days ago, he had been standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to let the ocean take him. And now, here he was, planning to take a mermaid to a festival. The absurdity of it almost made him laugh.

But as he looked down at Sirène, who gazed back at him with such quiet determination, he realized that this wasn't just a strange, fleeting idea. This was something she truly wanted—something she was willing to risk everything for.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Lyam felt a flicker of something new. Something he hadn't allowed himself to feel in a long time.

Hope.