This is a collections of stories written by my own hands. While most may not be mermaid associated, I have worked hard on them nonetheless. Please, do read and enjoy these works of my imagination!
The beautiful cover is done by @ShreyaSengupta29
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Come little children, I'll take thee away, Into a land of enchantment.
Come little children, the time's come to play, Here in my garden of shadows.
Follow sweet children, I'll show thee the way. Through all the pain and the sorrows.
"Do not move, my child. They'll hear you," the mother utters gently to her stirring little one. The child can feel it. She can feel the thickness of the air; how it has grown heavy with sleep upon her mother.
The child knows. They have come for her. There is no escape.
The mother huddles close to her child, with her back against the cold wall of the cellar. The child is wrapped in a blanket, sitting in her mother's arms. The mother holds a blade; one the father uses to slaughter animals.
But now they have come. Come for the child. She knows it.
Even hidden deep within the house, they cannot hide for long. A song of great beauty and enchantment rises from the earth, as if sung by the mists themselves. As if the wind carries the sound of a flowing stream and spring flowers into the small room. The mother covers her child's ears with shaking hands, knowing. Knowing that no child can resist the song of the Whisperer.
This time the usual maiden of the unearthly song is accompanied by another voice. A voice of the trees. The Prince of the Dark Wood. His song is light, and invokes stories of joyful children at play with fairies, and running about in the deep garden of green. The Two step into the cellar as mere silhouettes, their backs lit up by the outerlights. No candle do they hold. No light do they need.
The mother pulls her child close to her bosom and thrusts out her knife in defence. But the song of the wind and air rides in a great chorus of two. The first Whisperer, the Lady of the Wood, begins their hypnotic chant;
"Come sweet Sapphire, come away with me. Come my precious gem.
Come sweet Sapphire, come away with me, To my garden of shadow and rose.
Come away with me, To my garden of shadow and rose."
With her voice singing as the full moon beams upon a lake, the Lady of the Wood holds out her hand, still yet cloaked in darkness. She never paused a moment, ever singing, ever chanting, ever tempting.
The mother holds her child closer to her, and grips the blade stronger. Her own pleas ring out in the cellar, but stop at the deaf ears of the Lord and Lady. They will not hear. They cannot be stopped. Still, the mother screams, "By the mercy of the stars, leave us!"
