Calypso

The choppy waved hacked at my tail, and I mournfully stared at the retreating ship. Her name was Florence, and she was beautiful. It had been rumored that a Spanish craftsman had labored over the design of the ship for twenty years, and you could tell. The sails were angled in such a way that it could catch the salty air, even when the sea is glass. The hull could dance between two waves, and not stumble.

Florence. I rolled the name around in my head awhile longer. The ship was beautiful, but I was more interested in what was onboard. Its cargo was purple dye and spices, but I had need of neither. On the ship was sailors- it was teeming and teeming with sailors. Each with legs meant for running, walking and crawling up nets. Ears that could listen, and hearts that could love. Ships like these were becoming a rarer and rarer commodity. And I had let it go. Realizing this, I dove underwater and swam furiously towards it. When I surfaced again for air, I saw that I was much closer then before- from here, I could follow it.

I knew the ship was heading for the little Island of Nåel, only a little while away. It was full of fresh water and food, which the sailors would be in need of, but I preferred to call it Isla de la Muerta- the island of death. Only a few months ago, it was home to me and my sisters- I had fourteen sisters, and we were closer than the pods of fish, which swam nearby. One day, we had seen a ship not unlike the Florence. We laughed gaily- we had finally reached the coming of age passage when we could sing. The ship sailed closer, but the skies darkened, and we didn’t notice. When we had begun to sing, the clouds overhead had darkened to charcoal, and yet we paid no heed. Our song had finally reached the ears of the sailors, and the ship was making a direct turn for us. Overjoyed by this prospect, we only noticed the maelstrom before it was too late.

The swirling whirlpool in front of the island was only noticeable to us, because the sailor’s ears were filled with our honeyed poison. Our songs of love soon became ones of danger, filled with screeching notes. The sailors had not heard this difference, and just blindly sailed towards our voices. Even though we had not met these foolhardy sailors, who followed the sound of our voices as if they were tethers pulling them in, knew what we had to do. Each and every one of us dived into the terrifying whirlpool and tried to swim away. In the maelstrom, invisible hands held us under, and the once friendly rocks that we knew so well now seemed like sharp daggers, piercing our tails and skin. Our blood was washed into the swirling tides. Eventually, the sky lightened and the current lifted me up. I had a long, jagged cut along the small of my back, serving as my reminder. I never saw the ship, or my fourteen sisters again.

I pushed the dark thoughts from my mind, as I would scare minnows. The sky was blue as a robin’s egg, and there hadn’t been a cloud for days. I dove underwater, swimming as fast as my muscular tail would allow. Every time I came up for air, I was afraid that someone in the ship would see me, and fall to the old superstitions and my hopes would be crushed. This ever happened, and when I was close to the ship, I heard laughter and languorous voices inquiring about sailor things. My lonely heart ached at hearing these- how much I wished I could be in the conversation. I left a trail of bubbles behind me, and swam faster. Stopping a few more times for air, I had finally reached the island. The boat was a small pinprick in the distance, and that was fine with me. I laboriously pushed myself up the sand, wincing as some small rock ruffled my scales. I found some shells, and my luck seemed to turn- I found a dried up starfish, faded a light lavender in the sun. With my treasures in my hand, I found a suitable rock, and struggled to pose myself on it. I plucked one of my long stands of hair, and threaded the shells together, to make a glittering necklace. I tangled the starfish in my hair, and smiled. My long hair was the colour of sunsets on the water, glittering when it caught the rays of the sun. My tail was like the water- blues, greens, glimmering jewels, spreading out into a thin fan at the end. My tail smoothly blended in with my skin, tan with playing in the sun. I was one of the last of my kind- my kind was doomed to only reproduce females. Our curse, or perhaps, blessing was our voice. My voice was a double sided blade that I was thankful, and in turn, scared of. Without my fingers being busy, my negative mind started spinning stories of horror. What if my voice didn’t work without my sisters? What if none of the sailors found me attractive?

My fingers nervously played with my hair, until I clearly saw her. The ship had turned for the island, no mistaking it. The billowing sails were full of air, and the oak glinted comfortingly in the sun. I could the sailors, looking like small blobs in the distance run across he ship, to ready it for anchoring. I opened my mouth and let out high, lilting notes. The music rose from deep within, not in my native Spanish, but the music was foreign to me all together. The feeling I got from it gave me goosebumps and made me sing louder, throwing my voice to the wind, trusting the breeze to deliver my heart.