Mal de Mere

It was an earthshattering sound. Its vibrations traveled through the salt water, bouncing off her scales. She could feel the rippling of the water echoing in her bones. Men screamed as they awoke from the mirage. Their cries filled the air and thickened the water. Wood splintered, bursting when it met the sharp stony cliffs. The ship was meeting its end as it was meant to. A deep hole was blown into the side, water already gushing into the cabins.

She did not watch it though. She only had eyes for him. One lost soul upon that damned ship. Her eyes were locked upon him and she could not defer them. He was the only one not shouting. The only one not scattering around to save himself. He stood still upon that deck, as if he was the figurehead of his ship, carved into the dead wood. His feet were planted like seaweed to the ocean’s floor and he was tapping his hand against his chest. She could not move either. She drifted on the sea's current, not pushing her tailfin to chase any of the escaped sailors. Chaos surrounded them both. Yet they were not part of it.

He did not seem to notice the world around him. Splinters flew past his face, he did not react. Another deafening moan of wood filled her ears and again she could feel the waves resonate on the havoc. However, the man did not move a muscle. He only shifted when the deck below him moved; no tension in his legs disclosed any precognition. It was as if he was not aware of his surroundings.

Chaos ruled the deck; many sailors ran and most flung themselves overboard for a little chance of survival. They would be awaited by her siren sisters, to bring the men down. One of his sailor friends grabbed him by his arm, trying to yank him with. He pushed back. He did not shout, he did not curse, yet he moved his hands in a furious manner. His friend looked at him, confused yet too scared to waver another second aboard and left him to his fate. His tapping continued. The tapping that hypnotized her beyond control.

Tap, tap...tap, tap...tap, tap... She did not only see his tapping. The way his hand reached his chest and his fist collided with his ribcage. She could hear it! She could feel it! It was not just a regular tapping. He was sending her a message. He was drumming her heartbeat. Every beat she heard within herself, he tapped on his chest. As if he heard. As if he knew her beat.

Men are foul creatures. The voice of her mother resonated in her ears. They have no purity, they have no soul. They follow our singing with lust in their hearts, not love.

She had always believed. Believed in their cause. To rid the world of these sinners, to take back the seas for themselves. Nets and harpoons had taken many of their sisters. These creatures were killers. There was evil among men. Yet... This man. She could not decide if he was amazingly brave, or the biggest fool. He stood upon that deck, the ship crashing, yet he was unmovable. Tapping her heartbeat as if it was brought to his ears. In his eyes she saw no lust. There was no foul passion for her beauty. She saw happiness. Happiness upon a sinking boat.

It took only moments for the ship to start shifting. It was truly sinking now, gathering so much water that the last brave shipmates jumped into the icy waters. The man fell to his knees, yet he tried to keep eye contact. Another crash into the cliffs and he was not strong enough. He was thrown. The splash that his body made as it submerged into the cold sea was one of the worst sounds she had ever heard.

“Our song only speaks to the corrupt hearts.” Her mother said as they rested on rocks. The salty water peacefully splashed upon them, their tails kept wet and nourished. “The pure ones do not feel the urge to follow it; they don’t hear our tempting plea.” She felt her mother’s hands comb through her dark hair. It was long and reached the beginning of her tailfin. Draped along her bare chest, it looked like strands of seaweed, all tangled together.

“I have never seen a man that did not steer his ship towards us,” She whispered and searched her mother’s green eyes. They became stern and icy before she answered: “I have never met a pure hearted man.”

Was he? Was he the first pure hearted man they encountered? Yet he heard them. Just not their song. He heard her heartbeat. She did not have much time to think. It was act now, or let him drown. She did not know what it was that drove her, but she pushed her tailfin down the water and sped up to his sinking body. It was sinking slowly down the darkness of the sea.

He was not screaming, most drowning men screamed. She could remember the air bubbles spilling from their mouths, wasting their last breath. Yet he was waving, terror pouring from his eyes. His brown hair was coiling around his face like sea snakes, trying to strangle him. He was gulping, yet that one hand still upon his chest, thumping in a racing rhythm. The one of her heart. His eyes lost their glimmer and life left his irises.

It took her only a few beats with her tail to reach him. His body had gone limp. His hands did not make the strange motions he had made before. His eyes rolled away while she grabbed ahold of his shirt. She yanked him with, ascending with speed, towards the oxygen this man desperately needed. She was saving him, or at least trying to. Why?

He cannot be foul hearted. He cannot be. He knew the drums to my heart. He showed them to me.

She pushed him up, breaking the water level, while she could still hear the tapping on his chest. His heart was pumping and it needed to keep doing that. His body was cold and his skin was turning blue. Dark hair stuck to his forehead as she kept him floating.

Land, I need to get him towards land.

The man was heavy, but she was strong. Her beauty masked her strength; it was her elegance that lured men, not her strength. Yet this man had not been lured by her charm. He had not heard their song, or he had ignored it. He had heard her heartbeat.

Mom, what am I supposed to do now? You never told me. You never mentioned anything about the pure hearted. You did not prepare me for this!

Flashes of her dear mother appeared before her eyes as she dragged the man through the water. His body was cooling down quickly and she was afraid she was too slow. Her tailfin was sweeping as fast and ferocious as it could, yet the coast did not seem to get closer quick enough.

She saw her mother before her, her red fiery hair waving upon the strong wind. She was laughing that amazing laugh as the dark clouds gathered. She loved the storm, the cold, jumping through the great waves as storms build them high and tall. Her beautiful mother.

The man’s face was as white as the foamy waves. Like mother. Her mother never taught her what to do with pure men. She did not believe such existed. Men like his comrades, they had killed her.

Her body was tangled; her fin was twisted in the ropes, cutting off her blood supply. The gold of her scales had faded when they raised her tail first like a common fish.

She could not think about it. Not while she was saving this human being. She was saving this man. A man she was not even sure deserved a savior.

Together they crashed upon the beach shore. He didn’t seem to breathe anymore. Blue veins traveled his face and she lay upon him, panting for a moment. She was drained. Carrying him from the water had exhausted her. However, she could not leave him like this. Putting her ear next to his lips she felt no warmth coming from him. No gushes left his lips. She could only notice drops of saltwater falling from her hair, while he did not respond. The only breathing she heard was her own.

Is that not how they breathe? Didn’t human men breathe by pulling in oxygen with their mouth? Sucking on the life that was around them?

His hand had dropped next to his body, his hand still clutched in a fist. Her hands covered where his heart was, she did not feel it beating. Tears welled up in her eyes. The still face of her mother appeared before her eyes. Her green eyes had turned dark, bloodshot and empty. Her fiery hair was hanging towards the ground and she remembered being so scared. They had hauled her in, taking her away. She had been scared. So scared. Hiding behind that rock while the waves pulled her back to the sea. Confused and alone. Again, she did not know what to do.

In her frustration she balled a fist and hit him on the chest. She had saved him; she had carried him all this way, for him to die!

When her fist dropped upon his chest, he started sputtering. He buckled at her impact and his head shot up. Salt water flooded from his mouth as he dropped his face to the side, heavily coughing. She was startled, still laying half across him, his body was heaving below her. He was not dead! He was not dead. Color returned to his face as he violently coughed up all the sea he had taken in. As his eyes focused, he found her eyes and looked upon her face.

Suddenly a dreadful feeling filled her. Her tailfin was still in the coastline and the waves were keeping it wet. Yet she would not be able to escape quickly. What if this was not the pure man she had thought him to be? Before he could say a word, she was scurrying back to the water. She was panic-stricken and it was taking ahold of her body. The cold wind was making her skin shiver, her muscles moaned under her pace and she could not seem to get in the water soon enough. His hand shot out and grabbed her upper arm, causing her to look him in the eye. He was confused. He did not talk. No word came from his mouth and she wanted to pull loose. She could not have him make fish out of her. She could not be caught and be displayed to the world. She had heard the stories and she rather die than be put in a fishbowl.

Somehow, as he moved his hand down her arm, she dropped to her belly. He took her hand gently in his; his touch was cold yet not unpleasant. She could not move again. Her heart was racing in her chest and she could feel it trying to break free from her ribcage. He moved her hand towards his heart and pushed it against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat. It jumped against her fingertips. His heart synched with hers and for a moment they were one. She fell into his blue eyes, which resembled the sea she loved so much. His half long dark hair was plastered against his neck and little drops littered his face.

“Maris,” she whispered her name, waiting for him to respond with his name as well. Yet he did not seem to notice the words she spoke. He watched her lips, he watched them closely, yet no response came. Another wave crashed over them, as they lay where the waves broke and met the sandy shore.

“Oy! Are you two alright?!” A hard voice was carried by the wind and Maris saw a few men approaching from afar. The struggled running on the mull sand and were not too quick.

She pulled her hand free and while her eyes were not as easy pulled from his, she turned and crawled back into the sea, never learning his name. He made a strange sound as he seemed to shout after her. It was not words; it was not a normal voice either. It seemed like a speech that had not been trained.

The water greeted her, yet it did not feel like coming home. It felt like she left herself behind while returning to the waves. She left her heart beating next to the stranger’s. Not only had he tapped her heartbeat against his chest, he had stolen her heart with it.