growing up you never believed in mermaids, or vampires, or unicorns. you never thought santa actually delivered presents to your house, or the tooth fairy gave you money when your milk teeth fell out. your friends all thought you were weird, but you just knew the truth.

you’re now in your twenties, you live in a small house by the beach. it was your grandparents’, you inherited it a few months ago because you promised them you would take care of it when you were little. a dumb promise. you hate the house. you hate the ocean. you have to run a shop on the beach to make money, where your grandmother used to sell seashell jewellery, candles, mermaid-like trinkets. it’s okay. your family were always a little bonkers, believing in all sorts of mythical creatures. your mum was convinced she was a vampire for a while…

one day when you’re working you hear a giant crash, you look outside to see a boat had driven into the docks. and there’s a very soggy man wobbling up the beach. you raise an eyebrow. he looks around your age, fluffy brown hair, very tall, a seashell necklace around his neck, pretty brown eyes. but what puts you off is the odd scars on his neck, they almost look like gills.

he walks up to your shop, seemingly wanting some clothes.

“excuse me?” the man asks, he has a soft voice, australian accent. “i’m jacob.” he smiles. his legs seem a little wobbly as he grips onto the bar of your shop.