The Violent Blue

Alex was halfway through his routine saturday morning run when he, quite literally, tripped over what would soon become both his saving grace and biggest downfall. He hit the sand with a dull thud and cried out as his the skin on his forearm was torn by a cluster broken shells.

“Shit.” He cursed quietly, pulling himself into a sitting position and inspecting his arm. It wasn’t too bad, just a scratch. A deep scratch, but a scratch nevertheless.

He’d done worse with razorblades.

Alex was about to stand up and continue on with his run when a strange noise caught his attention. It was a soft, raspy whistling noise.

“Hello?” He asked.

His only response was the lulling sound of the rolling waves. Alex closed his eyes for a moment, the famaliar noise taking him almost two years back to when he’d thrown himself off a cliff and into the sea. It was just as chilly and foggy this morning as it had been that night, the day overcast and dreary and likely to hold a downpour. A knot began to form in his throat. Oh, how Alex missed the feel of being pulled under, of being immersed in the only thing he knew for certain he loved.

There it was again. That sound.

“Hello? Anyone there?” He asked again.

Sand from Alex’s shorts fell into his tennis shoes as he stood up. He grimanced.

Among a mess of seaweed and rocks laid, what looked like, the body of a young man. Around his own age, perhaps. Alex rushed over to him, worried he’d stumbled upon someone gravely ill--

“Hey! You okay?” He’d called.

--but soon stopped dead in his tracks.

It was the body of a man alright, but only half a man. The rest of him... was shark. A long, sleek, dark gray tail with a small dorsal fin , and two pectoral fins, grew out from where his hips and legs should’ve been. The knot in Alex’s throat grew tenfold. With wide eyes, he sucked in an anxious breath and squatted down next to the creature. It was breathing, but only barely. Alex’s first instinct was to call the police, or the FBI, or somebody, but he soon tossed away the idea.

The poor strange creature with the tail of a shark, spotted with bruises on his pale flesh and streaked in his own blood, would be experimented on and put on display for the world to see. So they could poke and proud at him.

Alex’s heart clenched, like hell if he was going to let the happen.

Cautiously, he pulled the seaweed off the creature’s body and hefted it into his arms. It was heavy and felt cold to the touch. Deathly cold. Alex wasn’t sure why, but something inside him sparked to life; a desire to save this unusual new... monster. No, monster wasn’t the right word. A monster wouldn’t be so thin, nor would it’s body shake in the cold and it’s hair, which wouldn’t be so thick and blond, be pulled back in a short ponytail that hung just to the base of it’s neck.

What was even holding the creature’s hair in such a fashion? Alex didn’t have time to ponder.

He hurried back to jeep with aching limbs and a bloody arm, parked nearly half a mile away, and put the creature in the backseat. Once Alex got into the driver’s seat he took off his sweatshirt and laid it across the creature’s bare chest. He sped him, hoping to get his incredible find out of his cramped, cold backseat and into a hot bath.

“What have I got myself into?” He asked himself. “Jesus Christ, what have I got myself into?”

Twenty minutes ago Alexander was contemplating his death, and now, all of a sudden, he was racing home in a desperate effort to save the strange life he'd tripped over on the beach. His head was spinning and his hands shook where they rested on the wheel of his jeep.

One thing Alex knew for sure, as soon as he got the creature warmed up and off death's door he was calling Molly Anne.