Celeste

16.

I swam up to the beach before nervously poking my head above the water.
It was a relief to have cool autumnal air ripple across my face, making me gasp with shock.

No-one was there. The sands were as inviting as my memories. I heeded Mitch's advise, shrugging the simple dress to my frame. White and simply done, it scratched at my scales but would provide decency once I got on land. Slowly I inched forward.

The sand, cool and ever-shifting under my tail, pressed up against my delicate scales through the dress fabric. I had tied my hair up with a ribbon, Which tickled the nape of my neck as it emerged from the water.

I had to effectively beach myself part way, making sure that there was no one to see it change. I sat facing the ocean, arms supporting my stance as my tail melted away. It was fascinating to watch.

The small fins folded invisibly back into flesh, I watched as my tail fin thickened to feet and my white scales dulled to skin tone. It wasn't perfect, of course. I tried moving one of my legs, breaking the shiny venner of transparent scales, Which peeled off at the touch of my hand, turning to foam as it hit the water.

I stared at my feet for a while, wriggling my toes. Pins and needles began to prick my legs untill every toe wriggle hurt. There was no point just sitting here. I pulled my knees to my chest, rotating myself to my knees.

Then, through the fading pins and needles, I began to take my first steps. I fell over, hitting the sand with a umph.

"Oh, clam shells!" I cursed, before giggling at how strange the words sounded on land. I tried again, and fell again, getting my wet dress a sandy decoration.

Then I saw a branch of driftwood sat innocently, surrounded by brown seaweed. Grunting, and feeling much like a fool, I began to crawl towards it.

My fingers, gritty with sand, curled about the branch.

I shan't go into detail about how many tries it took me to stand, untill, wobbling like a foal, I started to walk, one foot in front of the other. Sand turned to cobblestones under my feet, which were grey and pale with cold.

Despite my shivering I thanked my lucky stars that it was cold as most people were inside, and didn't have to see me like this.

The wet dress didn't help the icy cold that clung to my curves and exposed every bare inch of skin to frozen air.

I turned up at the end of the street shivering hard, teeth chattering, hair feeling like wet snow on my head. It was harder to step now, feet stumbling on cold cobblestones, and I fell once or twice, knees shuddering at the impact.

But there it was. Home. I could see the flowerbed with winter roots neatly lined, the walkpath gravel spilling slightly onto the street. It would hurt to walk through, given my bare cold feet but beyond it lay my father.

The gravel was much, much worse, my feet left bloody footprints as I made it to the other side. I hadn't looked up, only staring in scrunched up pain as my feet stepped carefully.

I was in the shade of the patio, inches from the door when a gust of cold made me hesitate before knocking.

The door swung open at my touch, and I stared at the face of grandmother, who adjusted her looking glasses and frowned.
"Who are you?"
She never stayed here, the last time she stayed was at my mother's funeral.

I blink. "It's Celeste, grandmother. I'm home." I said, loudly and clearly, knowing her tendency to mishear.

"Oh, dearie, Celeste reed died a year ago. Are you a friend?" She asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

I shook my head, "no, I am Celeste! I came home." I said, expanding the words.
Still she shook her head
"You shall have to ask the Jake reed, her father. He's..." Her nose scrunched. "In the tavern. Pigs hog down in Elsie street."

Then, before I could open my mouth, she slammed the door in my face.
A tavern?

Shivering, I turned about and made my way there. It was six streets away, and the wind had started to whistle and howl down alleyways, setting deep into my bones.

It came into view, pigs hog with the sign swinging with gusto in the wind, a smiling pig face running with glee. It seemed to watch as I stumbled into the door, gasping with the cold.

The door opened with a creak of rusty hinges, and I looked about with suprise. Normally on a day like this, it was packed with burly sailors and red lipped women with sultry looks, pushing drinks into eachothers hands with laughter ringing streets away.

But there was only one figure hunched over the bar, cradling a bottle in both of his hands.

Despite the defeated stance, the drunken slurred mumbles, and the smell, I knew it was him.

"Father." I breathed, stumbling up to the bar in breathless joy. "It's me, Celeste, I've come home" I said, throwing my arms about him.

He stood abruptly, and pushed me to the floor. "She's dead. I lost her." He growled, swaying.

"No! It's me, honest!" I said, sitting on my side.

There was a dreadful crash, and I looked to see the bottle he had cradled so carefully was now smashed. He held a jagged end in his hand.

"You will never be Celeste. You are a monster! An abomination!"
He cried, before beginning to swing at me.

"No, please!" I pleaded as he cut a gash into my arm. "I am your daughter!" I had backed myself, somehow out of the tavern and into a circle of people holding pitchforks and torches, blades sharp.

They began to shout;
"monster!"
" Abomination upon this land!" "She's cursed!"
"Kill the beast!"
"Demon!"

My father took a sword, and swung. I screamed, ringing in my ears high pitched and fearful. Like an animal.
In his face I saw no mercy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke gasping and sobbing, feeling, strangely, something wet on my face.
I held out my hand as it dripped off my face and into my palm. Nestled there, was a small black pearl.