I am too busy to make a post of substance
Jun. 3rd, 2009 11:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chu_totoroAs such, I will fill in today with a story I wrote ages ago and for some reason never posted!
I basically forgot about it until it came out again (a week ago? three?) in Soundings.
Kinda raw around the edges but if I'm too busy to write up real posts I'm obviously too busy to polish my writing.
And so...
Heartless
Once there was this kid. This fisher boy, to be exact. One dark and stormy night he heard a high keening on the wind, and the next morning he found a mermaid on the beach.
She had ruby red lips and a tail that gleamed like jewels in the morning sun, but her scales were chafed by sand and her eyes shone dull grey. The boy saw at once that she was almost dead. Deep gouges in the sand marked where she had thrashed and scrabbled with her hands; something was wrong with her, she could not get back to the water.
He turned to leave. She lifted her head and let out an eerie wail, and when he glanced back the feral arch of her neck sent shivers down his spine. For reasons he himself did not understand, he went back and half-dragged, half-fought, half-hauled her to his house, dropped her in the fish farm pond.
His girl did not approve. All the fish was gone within a fortnight, though he never saw her eat. Day by day he fished for her and her eyes gradually returned to swirls of silver, but her tail remained at an odd angle and didn’t flap as a fish’s tail should.
At night she sang a harsh, keening song, and though his girl never said a word he could feel her lying in bed next to him, eyes wide open in the dark, her breathing uneven.
One day he woke up and his girl wasn’t there anymore. He rushed to the pool and saw the fish tail floating upwards, his mermaid’s eyes black.
His first thought was that she’d poisoned her and run away. But there was no time for thinking; his mermaid was poisoned and he didn’t know what to do.
In the end he went out and got her fish, more fish than she could ever want, because he was a fisher boy and it was all he knew. He didn’t even know if she was alive or dead but he sat vigil and after two days she moved and after three days she ate and he knew she would live. Her tail improved and her eyes returned to silver and one day, finally, the boy took her back to the beach and let her free. She kissed him on the lips before she went, her eyes two unfathomable swirls.
The boy developed a faint cough after that. There was an emptiness inside his pond where the mermaid used to be, and an emptiness inside him where his girl used to be. He discarded his tools and left in search of his lost love. He never did find her, but he would not give up. He traveled the world and became wise in the ways of men, keeping an ear out always for mermaid lore.
His cough worsened as time wore on, going from a faint pestilence to a thing that racked his body and plagued him constantly. Often he wondered if this was not punishment of some sort, or even... reward. He did not get his answer until years later, from an old wise man in a village full of children.
“A mermaid’s kiss is poison,” he said, stroking his beard. “Why, get too close and she’ll eat you, bones and all - her eyes will turn black and her belly distend...”
The children crowded around him, eager, wanting to hear more. The fisher boy opened his mouth only to succumb to a monstrous bout of hacking that shook his whole frame and – this time – simply would not stop until he was on his hands and knees, the tears streaming down his face, and he tasted copper and felt something warm and wet on the tip of his tongue and spat red onto the grass beside him.
He felt a tug on his sleeve.
“Did you just cough up blood?” a little boy asked, eyes wide.
“No,” he managed, flashing the kid a ghost of a smile. “I’ve coughed up a piece of my heart.”
addendum-- let's throw in a poem while we're at it!
(this is also old/from Soundings)
Laments On A Day In The Life Of
The world around us simmers, bent awry –
the more we see, the more we turn aside.
Why bother when the die’s so long been cast?
We’ve slept enough; let numbers be our guide.
It’s happiness, but happiness can’t last;
on cresting waves it crashes, surging past
all reason, washing up our greatest woe:
we can’t turn back, time sweeps by far too fast.
The more we learn, the more we know,
the more we know, the less we slow,
the more we meet, the fewer we keep,
the more we turn, the faster we go.
I once knew a man who swam the ocean deep;
the day he surfaced he began to weep.
“I went so far,” he cried, “to what avail?
“I lost in seeking what I sought to reap.”
And so we roll, as snowballs down a hill,
for ever tumbling towards the latest thrill,
growing all the while, too fast to wonder why
until CRASH! – with a splatter, we lie still...
I basically forgot about it until it came out again (a week ago? three?) in Soundings.
Kinda raw around the edges but if I'm too busy to write up real posts I'm obviously too busy to polish my writing.
And so...
Heartless
Once there was this kid. This fisher boy, to be exact. One dark and stormy night he heard a high keening on the wind, and the next morning he found a mermaid on the beach.
She had ruby red lips and a tail that gleamed like jewels in the morning sun, but her scales were chafed by sand and her eyes shone dull grey. The boy saw at once that she was almost dead. Deep gouges in the sand marked where she had thrashed and scrabbled with her hands; something was wrong with her, she could not get back to the water.
He turned to leave. She lifted her head and let out an eerie wail, and when he glanced back the feral arch of her neck sent shivers down his spine. For reasons he himself did not understand, he went back and half-dragged, half-fought, half-hauled her to his house, dropped her in the fish farm pond.
His girl did not approve. All the fish was gone within a fortnight, though he never saw her eat. Day by day he fished for her and her eyes gradually returned to swirls of silver, but her tail remained at an odd angle and didn’t flap as a fish’s tail should.
At night she sang a harsh, keening song, and though his girl never said a word he could feel her lying in bed next to him, eyes wide open in the dark, her breathing uneven.
One day he woke up and his girl wasn’t there anymore. He rushed to the pool and saw the fish tail floating upwards, his mermaid’s eyes black.
His first thought was that she’d poisoned her and run away. But there was no time for thinking; his mermaid was poisoned and he didn’t know what to do.
In the end he went out and got her fish, more fish than she could ever want, because he was a fisher boy and it was all he knew. He didn’t even know if she was alive or dead but he sat vigil and after two days she moved and after three days she ate and he knew she would live. Her tail improved and her eyes returned to silver and one day, finally, the boy took her back to the beach and let her free. She kissed him on the lips before she went, her eyes two unfathomable swirls.
The boy developed a faint cough after that. There was an emptiness inside his pond where the mermaid used to be, and an emptiness inside him where his girl used to be. He discarded his tools and left in search of his lost love. He never did find her, but he would not give up. He traveled the world and became wise in the ways of men, keeping an ear out always for mermaid lore.
His cough worsened as time wore on, going from a faint pestilence to a thing that racked his body and plagued him constantly. Often he wondered if this was not punishment of some sort, or even... reward. He did not get his answer until years later, from an old wise man in a village full of children.
“A mermaid’s kiss is poison,” he said, stroking his beard. “Why, get too close and she’ll eat you, bones and all - her eyes will turn black and her belly distend...”
The children crowded around him, eager, wanting to hear more. The fisher boy opened his mouth only to succumb to a monstrous bout of hacking that shook his whole frame and – this time – simply would not stop until he was on his hands and knees, the tears streaming down his face, and he tasted copper and felt something warm and wet on the tip of his tongue and spat red onto the grass beside him.
He felt a tug on his sleeve.
“Did you just cough up blood?” a little boy asked, eyes wide.
“No,” he managed, flashing the kid a ghost of a smile. “I’ve coughed up a piece of my heart.”
addendum-- let's throw in a poem while we're at it!
(this is also old/from Soundings)
Laments On A Day In The Life Of
The world around us simmers, bent awry –
the more we see, the more we turn aside.
Why bother when the die’s so long been cast?
We’ve slept enough; let numbers be our guide.
It’s happiness, but happiness can’t last;
on cresting waves it crashes, surging past
all reason, washing up our greatest woe:
we can’t turn back, time sweeps by far too fast.
The more we learn, the more we know,
the more we know, the less we slow,
the more we meet, the fewer we keep,
the more we turn, the faster we go.
I once knew a man who swam the ocean deep;
the day he surfaced he began to weep.
“I went so far,” he cried, “to what avail?
“I lost in seeking what I sought to reap.”
And so we roll, as snowballs down a hill,
for ever tumbling towards the latest thrill,
growing all the while, too fast to wonder why
until CRASH! – with a splatter, we lie still...
