My Blue Secret

Chapter Four - Of-fish-ally Weirded-Out

I stare blankly at the little raindrop jewel hanging from a silver chain in my hand. My cornflakes sit in soggy dregs in my bowl, uneaten and neglected. I click it against my teeth. It's hard like stone. I bring it to my face, to study it closely. The colour of it is like turquoise rather than sapphire; entirely opaque. But it doesn't look like any gemstone I've ever seen before. Its surface is smooth and extremely shiny, which explains how it winked at me last night. There are tiny sliver diamonds dotted about the outside of the pendant, making it even more stunning. God this must be worth an arm and a leg! But I'm pretty sure it belongs to that merman (I supposedly meet-let's see, Imagination. Are you telling me the truth?)
I'm still unclear about the events than happened on the beach early this morning. My imagination tells me I had a conversation of sorts with a merman, while my brain tells my imagination to shut its big mouth and stop confusing me. My heart is no help, thudding away a steady rhythm, offering no wisdom. For some reason, my heart seems to feel something for the creature, I'm 98% sure I saw last night. Even though I don't know who or what he is.
I've never been a sceptic, really. But you read about paranormal events or supernatural occurrences happening to people far away from you, and it's always easier to want to believe. Mostly because it's imposable for it to actually happen. But it doesn't help to keep believing in it. But when it actually happens to you, suddenly nothing seems possible anymore. It's just so outrageous.
Mermaids don't exist.
They're meant for mythology and stories and dreams
Not in real life.
Not in my life
I shake my head vigorously and stand up from the table, my drowned my cornflakes headed down into the sink's garbage disposal. I look back at the necklace in my hand. The silver chain is long enough for me to place it over my head and let the jewel rest somewhere near my navel. I tuck it under my shirt and head to my room to prepare for the day.
Mum checks up on me with one of her swift phone calls;
"How are you? I've transferred money into your account for groceries and anything else you need. Are you okay? Good. We're still extremely busy. Yes, I know. You'll be fine, dear, I trust you. Uncle Ed is on the other side of town at the moment. Call him if you need him. I'll text you his number. Don't forget to feed Tuna. Keep safe. Love you lots. Bye." After she has finally finished babbling on, I hang up the phone and plonk it onto the table and slouch onto my bed.
Was last night all in my head? I sigh heavily and fiddle with the little pendant through my shirt. Maybe tonight I could go back to where I found him on the beach. Maybe he's like a vampire, who can only come out in the night? I chide myself; yeah, Senna, a vampire with a fishtail. Me and my over reactive imagination. I shake my head again. My heart squeezes at thought of him.
I decide to go out, but for a different reason. I leap up and dash outside to where I put my bike yesterday. I ride into town and bike along the town centre streets. There are lots of cracks in the sidewalks. Making my teeth chatter as I ride over them. I look around and notice not many people are out and about. It kind of reminds me of a ghost town. I continue to look up and down streets, searching for a local library or anything that could lead me to it.
After only five or so minutes of looking, I round a corner and come face-to-face with a grand brick building with gold letters as its title; 'TOWN LIBRARY'.
I lock my bike onto a streetlamp's pole and enter the building. Not a sound is heard in here. It's almost deadly quiet, but something about the pleasant tungsten glow of the lights and the rows upon rows of books takes the 'deadly' away from the quiet.
Books.
I grin widely, completely bemused as of where to start. The library, on the inside is huge and has rows and rows of shelves that contain hundreds of books. I head over to the section with a big sign reading 'FICTION' right at the back of the library. So I start to prowl through the sub-sections. I pass all sorts of sub-sections before I reach a particularly jam-packed row marked 'MYTHOLOGY'. Yes! I think excitedly.
It doesn't take me long to scan through the titles and reach the 'M' part and the vast arrangement of Mermaid/Merman/Merpeople books. Some of them look old and weathered, still in leather binding, while others look newer, some even shiny and plastic-y.
I pick out a few old ones first, ones that look like they've been untouched for years. Some of the content is pretty gruesome. Vivid drawings of mass executions. Of innocent people having been drowned because they were thought to be Merpeople. Children of the Sea.
Filthy abominations.
Non-human!
Along with a bunch of stories of mermaids bringing fishermen to their death by drowning them. Sirens, the authors deem them.
There were a lot of names for them.
None of the drawn Merpeople in the old books look like my merman. He wasn't some grotesque monster with three more eyes than he needed and long thick tubes of seaweed as hair, with razor-sharp fins. He was simply a person on top and a fish on the bottom.
A beauty to uphold.
I flick through the newer books, finding them much the same: irritating, unlikely and unhelpful. I lift one of my hands up and pick up one of the bigger books and take it off the shelf. That's when I see a smaller book fall out of its hiding place in-between two books.
Its a little volume, no bigger than the average notebook, with a heart-stopping painting on the front of it.
A tiny rock, carved into a smooth drop of rain, with small diamonds outlining the edges. The same silver chain pools beneath it in a disorganised pile. I look either side of me, checking no one is watching. But I only see the old librarian sitting at her desk with her nose in a book, not paying attention. I reach into my t-shirt and pull out the necklace. I let it dangle for a moment above the book cover, matching the picture with the real thing. My brow furrows in frustration.
What the hell is going on?
I read the title, tracing it with shaky fingers. 'Treasures of the Blue', it reads. I mutter the name under my breath.
Okay this just freaky. How did the necklace I found end up on a cover of a book? I open the small book to the first page and see the date it was published. 1993. Mmm it's 20 years old.
I make my way over to a desk and sit down and turn to the next page. Okay this seems to be some sort of diary-style book written in the italic script of someone who's practiced often. The page starts with a date;