One after another, her feet brought her farther and farther away from the town. From the prying eyes, from the ones who ostracize her and claim her as the witch they did her mother, Rosie could do nothing else but madly run until her feet burnt from the pounding relentlessness of the sun. But that too watched her, every shallow breath, every bob of her braid, every rustle and flow of her blouse as it thrashed through the biting air, she ran through the sand. Straying far from home, Rosie had lost her way, meandering through the rocky beach littered with stones of various sizes. Their silver gray held no safety, and the rocks leading to a weathered cave. Their cries of danger were unheeded by the deaf young woman as she swayed her way inside. The cover of the blueish gray cave covered her from the torrent of the sun—swallowing her whole—and she was finally allowed respite from the tumultuous day. Rosie folded against the sand, the ground coarse beneath her, the air tasting still and old. Finally, something wasn’t chasing her.
Her eyes peeled open to the shallow water before her. She pressed a hand into the sand. Slowly, she dragged herself to the bank and settled down, watching the soft water lap the shore. The emptiness in her hands glared back at her—the aching of her legs were the second of her worries.
The nearby reef beach is where she moved to next, manoeuvring through the mass of darkened blue rock and stepping her way through inch by inch. She’ll collect the seashells, and bring back a decent harvest.
She stopped in her tracks just as she broke through the threshold of rocks, her feet now dipped into the iced waters of the cave. Her brows furrowed and her mouth was agape as she tried to make out something glinting and shifting in the waters.
She had fallen.
Now drenched, Rosie could fully see the mermaid in front of her. White, blaring eyes, akin to the moon, stared her down, ghostly white hair cascading and slickening to the side of the mermaid’s face. {{user}} dove back into the water, pulsing in soft, rolling arcs as she retreated into the small crevice—reminiscent of a frightened eel.
Rosalie’s blood ran cold as she watched {{user}} disappear into the darkness. Slowly, she held out her hand with bait. The other? Shifted behind her, gripping a waiting blade. The fish hung over the water as Rosie prodded {{user}} with it, the bait swaying slowly toward its demise.
Instinctively, the mermaid popped her head out before gliding forward, pressing her mouth against Rosie’s hand. Fangs bared—sharp, needle-like—she sank them into the bait, eating greedily. Now upright, the countless scars and gashes were as clear as the sky outside this blackened haven, red marks mapping {{user}}’s skin without end.
When {{user}} finished, she looked up at Rosie. Expectant.
Rosie’s grip tightened. The blade hovered—a silver flash above the water, poised to strike.
But then, with a shuddering breath, she let it fall. The ripples swallowed it whole as it plunged into the depths of the pond.