Mermaid

By Matt Mitchell

You were that girl, the one I met that night down by the water. You asked me what I was thinking of, but I couldn’t answer right away. Intimidated, I tried to slow my heart rate, but it just ran on faster and faster. I remember looking away and swallowing hard; I was shaking, just by your nearness. The black water calmed me some, its steady surge, its salty banter. But I was still faint, wondering if you were a mermaid.

You told me you wanted to dance, but you would only dance on the water, and with a sideways smile you were off. I looked around for guidance, for support, but everyone else was involved with their own drama. With another difficult swallow and wrenching guts, I followed…

The black water was tight around us and warm and you laughed out loud. I wanted to reach out to you, but I just idled there, letting the swell of the waves pass me by as I watched you frolic, listened to you laugh. Everywhere you splashed was alive with phosphorescence. It glowed green and reflected in your hair, on your skin…

Finally, I found the words: “Is there more to life than this?” I called, just loud enough so you could hear me.

You stopped and spun, facing me, coming closer. I imagined your feet rapidly paddling, kicking up sand clouds on the ocean floor. The water was still, the green sparkles gone with your dance.
“There’s only tonight, and whatever it is it’s all we’ve got,” you said.

I swallowed again, mad at this injustice done to us, but you just kept on smiling.

A lighthouse swung its glow our way and passed over us without pause. A buoy’s ringing bell chimed in the black distance. The bobbing red light of a shrimper trolled our way, a hundred miles away it seemed. You touched my hand.

“Chill out,” you said, still smiling. “It’s good enough for now, isn’t it?”

For the first time in days, I smiled. And I remembered. And I loved you.

Matt Mitchell, author of The Last Man, is a working writer in Montevallo, Alabama. In addition to being one of the authors featured in the print anthology, Southern Fried Weirdness 2007: An Annual Anthology of Southern Speculative Fiction, he is a father of two boys, a southerner, technophile, naturalist, and part time adventurer.