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SHE KEEPS STARING AT me. I wish I could say it’s because she feels the same way I do—we are connected. But deep down, I know she wants answers and she’s suspicious I’m somehow responsible for her fate, which in part, I am.
All three of them help me get onto the boat. If my brothers could see me now, I’m sure they’d be jealous. Nevertheless, I fear Poseidon could be watching us right now as well. I’m sure he’d punish me by making me a sea slug or bottom-feeding flatfish for having these three mortal goddesses at my disposal.
Yanka cranks a few gadgets on the boat deck and it rumbles. Athena begins cheering as we take off with Yanka steering us into the sunset. They each take turns looking at me, hoping the others won’t see. I don’t think they have any idea what they plan to do with me, but I do know they each want something from me.
We haven’t traveled long when a wave hits the front of the boat and splashes high over the deck, causing the women to scream. It’s come out of nowhere and I know one of my brothers, the Captain, who is also the custodian of the waters of the sea, has found me.
“Where did that come from?” Yanka asks and I see Athena is soaked. She’s glaring at me with a wickedly curious eye.
The boat tips to the side a little and all three women scream again as my chair tips just slightly then lands back on two wheels.
“It’s a whale!” cries Shelley with excitement and I’m thrilled to see her smiling again.
I can’t help but laugh as the women stop screaming and start wooing with the sight of a second sea ocean creature, an adolescent humpback, who decides to show off as it breaches in the air.
The adolescent swims close and shoots a spout of water towards the sky, which comes down over the boat showering Athena’s white blouse; her thin undergarments expose her exquisite mortal body, which she’s always trying to hide.
The adolescent splashes his tail against the surface of the water and I know my other brother, once a Master at Arms and now a Master of Sea Beasts, has found me as well.
Pushing my wheelchair to the edge of the boat, I want my brothers to see my legs. It doesn’t matter my legs don’t work well; I’m sure it will give them hope.
“You did this!” Athena claims and I can’t tell if she’s happy or angry she’s soaked and dripping with seawater. “You can control the sea!” She attempts to pull me out of the chair, but I resist. I think she’s planning to throw me overboard.
Yanka stops the boat and comes rushing over. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m going to toss him in!”
“Are you fucking crazy?” replies Yanka. “He’ll fucking drown!”
“He’s a merman!” Athena remarks as she tries to tug harder, nearly knocking me out of the chair.
Yanka turns to Shelley who is just watching, which I don’t understand. “Help me,” Yanka begs her. “Help me before Athena drowns him!”
“Why are you so desperate to believe he’s a merman, Athena?” asks Shelley. “I once believed as you did, but I grew out of that. You’re older than me. You’ve got to be what? Thirty-something? Why would anyone continue to believe in all this folklore? You’re willing to risk a man’s life to prove a theory in which no truth exists.”
“Because they do exist,” says Athena, “I’ve seen one.”
“Ah fuck!” cries Yanka. “You people are driving me crazy. Listen to me,” she snaps. “I’m not a psychiatric nurse. I work in the emergency and surgical rooms of the hospital; I don’t know how to handle your mental bullshit.”
“So, you’re saying you’ve seen Blue before?” Shelley inquires with complete disregard for Yanka’s pleas and Athena shakes her head.
“No,” Athena replies and lets go of my arm to sit at the edge of the boat sulking.
“Then tell me why you think Blue is a merman,” Shelley urges.
Athena lifts the coin from her neck to dangle it in front of her eyes. “Because this town, Leahman’s Bluff, is haunted,” she says looking at Shelley. “You’ve heard the stories. I’ve been able to put them together, but it’s Cora Morae’s story, your aunt’s tale, which was passed down through generations that makes me believe things I saw in my youth were not fantasy, but reality.”
I see the other two women become weak in the knees as the boat rocks back and forth, forcing them to also take a seat.
“Tell me, Athena,” says Shelley with her green eyes fixed on me. “Tell me the story my aunt, the crazy psychic, told you as she taught me many things, but she never mentioned any hauntings.”
Athena begins to tell her tale and I’m amazed at how true it is for having been passed between generations in the Morae family. She doesn’t know every detail, but what she does know, is every bit as I remember...
Before America’s revolution was won, I was a low-ranking, illiterate seaman aboard a British Royal Naval ship. I was lucky at the time to be assigned under Captain Willis Sturgeon, a fine commander who was also an exceptional navigator. His best friend, Orphelius Mayhem, a Master at Arms, was among the finest sailors I’d ever had the chance to work under, but they weren’t just naval men—they were warriors. They enjoyed plundering, almost like pirates, by taking part in as many a good fight as possible, regardless of whether it was on land or by sea.
Furthermore, they loved their women, but not as much as the women loved them. Heroic tales of Captain Willis and Master Mayhem allowed for the easy trappings of many a pretty lady. Women waited with preceding tales of heroism on every corner of the earth for these men, and these men did not discriminate against any of the women. It didn’t matter if a woman was a harlot or an aristocrat, pink or pale, thin or oppositely thick, these two men loved their women and they reveled in being worshipped by all kinds.
I wanted to be like them. I wanted to be exactly like the brawny Captain Willis and the slender, dark-eyed devil with a sword—Master Mayhem. I coveted to be every bit of a hero as they were and when the night finally arrived to prove I could be, I paid the price for my heroics; we three each continue to pay the price.
We were aboard the Annabelle, a fine ship, with a mission to protect another carrying ammunition to the coast of the Americas. Annabelle was newly commissioned so most of its crew was recently thrown together. On a warm, windless night, we sat atop a motionless sea. The stars were brighter than ever and the atmosphere was so quiet, you could hear a man breathing from the opposite deck. But what should’ve been a blissful night of sleep and peace made us all uneasy as a woman wailed for hours from the opposite boat. We had an idea of what was happening to her and it was confirmed the next day when our skipper, Captain Willis, boarded the other vessel insisting its captain cease exploiting the handful of African female slaves aboard the ship. Captain Willis initially seemed pleased with himself, thinking he had made an impact to put us all at ease, but rumors shortly spread of his uneasiness about one particular slave.
Unfortunately, on the next evening, we heard a woman wailing again, except this time she was shrieking between cries as if the other captain was making an example of her. Slave or no slave, it made my blood curdle and I did not want to imagine the torture she must’ve endured.
So again the next morning, Captain Willis returned to the opposite ship in an attempt to bring the abused slave back to our boat, reporting he wasn’t interested in saving her, but simply couldn’t sleep. Witnesses aboard the ship say the slave professed to be a witch and cursed our captain and everyone in his company. They claimed she implored the gods to strike down all who boarded the boat; Captain Willis, feeling inept at trying to save an ungrateful woman, left her to endure more torture.
On the third night, we were not just awoken by the sound of the slave woman’s lamenting but by the screaming of many. I recall the sound of thunder as lightning struck the ship, which soon lit up with flames. Fueled by the fury of the wind and not a drop of rain in sight, the fire grew so high it filled the entire sky.
Captain Willis called on all hands to attempt a rescue. We brought our ship around as close as we could and dropped two rescue boats into the water. Captain Willis was upset to see only the officers were aboard when the rescue boats returned; there was clearly room for more passengers, as well as a portion of her majesty’s property, which soon sunk. Screams were heard from the burning vessel as the officers, including Captain Averill Leahman from the opposite ship, were hoisted to safety.
The captains argued about the lack of judgment, but ultimately Captain Willis called for two brave men to follow him back to save what he could. His closest friend, Master Orphelius Mayhem, and I volunteered, of course.
I remember thinking how foolish I was as I climbed down the rope to follow behind them onto the rescue boat. I could feel the heat and hot ash flying past me and doubted, for a moment, about going until Captain Willis shouted to me, “Push us off, brother! Let us revel for a moment with our oars, so we may celebrate as heroes rewarded by our whores!”
Master Mayhem laughed as he grabbed his oar and I discovered inexperienced feelings buried deep within me. As I pushed us off, I peered at the good captain leading us towards danger, but I was not afraid. I found courage I never knew I had and felt invincible in the presence of these heroic men.
As I struggled to climb the rope to the top rear deck of the burning ship, I nearly let go as an explosion set off by ammunition sent pieces of flaming debris past me. Luckily, Master Mayhem put his hand out and pulled me to the top of the chaotic scene.
I followed the Captain and the Master at Arms, both fearless and determined as they headed towards the steps to get below deck. I suspected once there they would head in the direction of her majesty’s loot, but they did not. Instead, they followed the wail of the woman who cursed him earlier; when we found her, shackled, the flames were almost upon her.
Captain Willis and Master Mayhem worked frantically to free her. They called to me to look for a key, so I headed out of the slave quarters in search of one, only to find myself in the ammunition room.
Within seconds of entering, there was an explosion. I remember the feeling of the initial blast. My body was numb, but not my throat; it was as if I swallowed fire. I could not breathe—my lungs and throat were instantly burned. I remember seeing water pour through the hull from a hole in the side of the ship until it flooded the room.
I was still attempting to make my way out when I was consumed by the ocean; stuck in the ship that was becoming my coffin; I was going down with it. I remember trying desperately to scrape at the wood with my fingertips. My last feeling as a human was that of a splinter wedged beneath my nail when suddenly I could breathe, but it was not through my nose.
Still, I was relieved until I felt an excruciating pain in my legs as though a fishing line was cutting straight through them. When I looked down, I saw it was my trousers cutting through my legs as my bones began to crack. Removing my trousers promptly, I watched my skin somewhat melt as the flesh of my inner legs fused together. I tried to scream, but I was voiceless in an ocean tomb. I continued to attempt to bellow again and again, not only from the pain but also from the sight of the grotesqueness of watching my lower body metamorphose into a giant fish.
When the transformation was over, I thought I died, as I was alone and consumed by darkness. I was at the bottom of the ocean floor where I waited in silence for a while. I was still trying to breathe through my nose and mouth, but all I did was choke.
After some time passed, my eyes adjusted to the dark. I stared at the horror that was my lower half. I was afraid to touch the part of me that should’ve been legs until I could not see my bawbels or my Man Thomas.
I quickly dug my hands around the area and, luckily, the whole package was there, nutmegs and all, tucked in a flap and easy to pull out just as if I’d have to piss with a pair of breeches.
Cupping my bawbels in my hand made me feel better and I hardly noticed I wiggled my tail, but the small motion sent my entire body streaming through the water. I remember hitting my back against the sunken ship wall. It was the first time I felt the power of my new form. But that was not all that was in store...
“Poseidon heard the slave praying to end her suffering and the life of the captain who’d been torturing her,” Athena continues as she tells her version of the story. “So, Poseidon struck the ship with a bolt of lightning, setting it ablaze. But the three men—the deckhand, the Captain, and the Master at Arms went back to save what they could from the ship, including the slave.”
“But they drowned. Isn’t that correct?” asks Shelley.
“According to the historical accounts, yes,” replies Athena, “but according to your aunt, that’s not the end of the story.”
“Because they were turned into mermen?” Yanka laughs and flashes me a wink and then blows a kiss in my direction.
I grin back, but my attention turns towards Shelley. Her chin is down, but her eyes will not avert from the sea. She appears quiet and at peace, though I sense a tempest is brewing within her.
I conjure a soft, cool breeze and send it through her hair. She tilts her head and closes her eyes as the corners of her mouth reach towards the sky; she’s enjoying it. If these other women were not here, I would replace that soft wind with my hands, but I would not be as gentle with her as a mere breeze. I would grab her the way a storm grabs hold of a ship’s sail and kiss her until the space between her thighs became a whirlpool of wet mess aching to suck me in.
Shelley catches me eyeing her thighs. “He’s not a three-hundred-year-old merman,” she says. “For all we know he’s a murdering homeless man.”
“I’m telling you, he’s not!” yells Athena. “Look at the coin,” she says and she lifts it off her head to dangle it. “This thing is a doubloon of pure gold dating back before the American Revolution and is probably worth over a million dollars. Do you really think a homeless man would be carrying something of so much value?”
“Did you just say that thing is worth a million dollars?” Yanka asks as she stands up to get a better look at the golden trinket.
“Probably more,” states Athena, fixing her glasses to keep a better eye on Yanka.
“And where did Blue get it?” asks Yanka.
Athena clutches the coin again. “Poseidon gave it to him. Rather than let Blue and the other two men drown, Poseidon not only transformed them into mermen as a reward for attempting to save the woman, but he also gave them powers. Together, they are Poseidon’s trident—three mermen to control the seas. One can manipulate the water, the other can control the beasts, and the third?” Athena examines me as she had the first time we met. “The third can control elements of the atmosphere, like the weather or this breeze.”
“It has been storming more than usual since Blue arrived. Let me see the coin,” demands Yanka.
“No!” shouts Athena. “The coin is cursed. Poseidon did not take into account the curse the slave put on the men before he struck the boat. Since the captain did not rescue the slave woman when he had the chance, the mermen were forbidden from being rescued. They control the seas, but they are also death dealers and forbidden from walking on land. As the slave was tethered by chains and drowned, she tethered the trident of men to the sea forever. Yet, Poseidon pitied the men for at least attempting to save the wailing slave; he transformed her into a sea witch, so she could undo the curse befallen upon his trident. Heaven forbid a man should return to land to have women! Reluctantly, the witch gave each man a trinket from the treasures of the sunken ship and shackled each merman to the trinket with magic. If a woman could not only lay with each man but love him in his beastly sea form as well, he could give her the trinket and walk with her on land.”
“So, if Blue gave Shelley his trinket or his coin, then why can’t he walk?” Yanka asks factiously with raised eyebrows.
“Maybe Shelley doesn’t love him enough,” replies Athena very seriously.
Shelley chortles, “Why would anyone choose to be tethered to another human? Wouldn’t he just choose to be a merman and live forever?”
“Look around, Shelley,” replies Yanka. “There’s no one in sight for miles. It’s fucking lonely out here.”
Shelley sighs. “My parents are out here somewhere.” Shelley turns back to look at me. “You know where they are, don’t you?”
I hint at nothing.
“Why did they find your hair on my parents’ boat?” Shelley asks.
“I’m telling you,” stresses Athena, “he’s a merman, just like your aunt said and I’m sure he was trying to help them.”
I push my chair towards Shelley as she marches away towards Athena and quickly snatches the coin, tossing it into the water. My heart sinks with the coin that is beginning to make its way to the bottom of the sea and a bolt of lightning strikes the water.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” cries Yanka.
“I knew it!” shouts Athena. “You can control the weather,” she says to me and I nod.
“That’s bullshit!” cries Shelley. “That’s a coincidence,” she smirks and stands up. “He’s a fucking murderer and a loony, too,” she asserts and starts walking towards me like she’s about to kill me.
I conjure another bolt of lightning to distract her and she trips and scrapes her chin.
She gets up angrily and demands, “Where are my parents?!” Thunder cracks through the sky, but it doesn’t dissuade her wrath and I fear the fire shooting from her mouth. “If you’re a merman then you know, don’t you?! You know what happened to them! You know exactly where they are.”
“Shelley, calm down,” Yanka implores, as she gets between us.
I don’t like this or seeing Shelley in this condition. She looks exactly like her father and it makes me ill. I have to tell her before she hurts herself.
“Do you know?!” she asks grabbing a hold of my shirt.
I nod, yes, and Shelley strikes me. She hits me so hard in the face I cannot remember the last time, perhaps in some pub brawl centuries ago, when I was struck to the point my face is throbbing. I massage my jaw and can’t seem to stop the clouds from swirling above as a storm stirs.
“Where are they?!” cries Shelley. “Where are my parents?”
I look to the spot where Shelley tossed the coin, to where the sea has swallowed any chance I have of ever winning her affection or of ever being able to walk again, and I point.
“They’re down there?” Shelley asks and I nod. “They’re dead?” she questions once more and I nod again.
Shelley’s shoulders sink as she strolls towards the edge of the boat, but as she walks I see she has a faint smile. “You’ve seen them down there, haven’t you? And they’re together? Have they been together this whole time?”
I sigh.
Athena and Yanka are watching the sky in amazement as the clouds quickly clear and I bow my head. I cannot look at Shelley knowing I’m partly responsible, but she deserves the truth, so I nod once more.
I hear a splash and both Yanka and Athena are shouting Shelley’s name. Shelley has jumped over the rail, but she’s not in view. All I see is the white aftermath of her splash adjoining a circle at the surface of the water as more bubbles rise from below.
Shelley is indeed her parents’ daughter.
