Ocean

All I know now is the ocean. I used to know the land, or at least I think I did. I remember being on a boat, filled to the brim with filthy men. I remember them being afraid, whispering to themselves that a woman on a boat was bad luck. I remember the rough rope, biting into my legs as I was bound, and the filthy rag they used to stifle my screams. I know I remember the burning hatred that I still feel to this day. But I also remember the good. The flowers, waving gently in a breeze carrying the scent of fresh baked bread. The sound of children running, laughing, crying, even weeping. The sound of a bustling marketplace, and the feel of fabric swishing between my legs. Yes, I do remember the land, quite well actually. But all that is gone now. And my story starts on a bright summers day.

None of the men on the Anna Marie cared for having a woman onboard. I assume all men on the sea are like that, I don't stop to ask anymore. But wherever I had go, I obviously needed to go desperately. Or, at least wanted to go enough to board a ship. Things went smoothly for several months. I helped out wherever, and whenever, I could. But then, Fear took hold of the men in her iron tight grip. I must admit, from what I recall, there were a few strange happenings on the ship, but almost everything could be pinned down to rats or mice. The more superstitious of the bunch were convinced it was because they had a woman onboard. So rumors spread like a match to dry grass; they caught fire almost instantly.

It was a normal day. I think. I'm pretty sure. Anyways, I was helping the cook in the kitchen, like I would every day. I couldn't figure out why he was refusing to look me in the eyes, and was scooting away from me anytime I neared him. I had simply shaken it off, placing it on him possibly being ill, or me being dirty. That's around when things began to go wrong. One of the younger men, probably just a few years my senior, had asked me to join him up on deck. I agreed, happy for an excuse to leave the awkward kitchen behind. When we reached deck, I felt a rough pair of hands thrown me down, and a body leap on top of me, pinning me to the rough wooden boards. It was a flurry of hair, fists, and faces. I was a lady, not accustomed to fighting, so they had quickly overpowered me. The rough texture of a rope bit into my legs, keeping me from trying to run; to where I have no clue. One ripped his shirt into a crude gag when I began screaming, and stuffed the oily rag into my mouth. As I tried to recoil from the taste of sea and sweat, I backed into the arms of a crewmember. He hoisted me up, and in my struggle, I saw where he was carrying me. The edge.

Flailing wildly, I tried to stop them. I really did. But in the end I failed, and my last sight before I hit the water was the sun shining brilliantly in a blue sky devoid of clouds. I was okay for a few seconds; I knew how to hold my breath. But after trying to kick my way back up with no avail, my lungs began to burn. The salt stung my eyes, and my legs cramped as I tried to bend them in ways that were unnatural to the human body. My lungs began to scream for air, and finally my body gave in. I greedily sucked in the salty water through my nose, filling my lungs with the liquid. Then, after a few minutes' struggle, all went black.

I adjusted quickly to my situation. It reallyisn't that difficult to use a tail compared to legs. Besides, having a tailcomes with its advantages. For one, I move quicker when my prey tries tooutswim me, and being a mermaid means I have the voice of one. It might behusky with the saltwater that drowned me, but sure is pretty enough to convincea few to join my party. Because now, all I know is ocean...