Breathe
| Copyright, By Athena |
Breathe
By Athena
I saw him while gathering shells at the edge of the water. Still a child really, not comprehending
the weight of choice, I saw only his godly body, magnificent golden-scaled and glistening, his dark hair
entangled in strands of seaweed and luminous eyes watching me with the depth of the ocean. That
first day he simply watched from a rock where the swells broke against the jagged shore, sun beating
down on azure waters.
When I returned home with my basket of shells I asked my father, “Are the Merfolk real?”
I already knew they must be, for I’d seen one, but his answer left me knowing beyond a doubt that I
had not imagined the Merman that day. “Only fools believe in such creatures,” father said with a
gnarled salt-rasped voice.
And that easily, my mind was determined. I would see the Merman again.
I went to the water’s edge each day for a month, standing with my toes in the surf and the water of
mother washing the sand from under my feet with each wave. I stood in angry storms and blazing sun
and under stars to catch a glimpse of him. My skin freckled and my legs chafed raw from the salt of
the ocean and the constant rush of sand. But though my hair whipped into my eyes and my baskets
overflowed with shells, I did not witness his glory again.
One day, in a fit of childish impetuousness, I decided to go in search of him. The half man half
god with fins of sunlight, wild kelp hair and jeweled eyes.
I placed my basket of shells in the sand, stripped off my linen shift and stepped into the water.
Cool and encompassing, mother embraced me and I walked one foot before the other with each
rhythmic heartbeat of her vast body. Each step my mind raced and my fear mounted – because I did
not know how to swim.
How far could I go in search of him? How long could I walk?
The water held my body with gentle acceptance, my hips submerged and the weight of the sea
rocked my pelvis with languid ease and I wondered if she were asking me to dance, or encouraging me
to make love. My ribs touched the cool wetness then the under curve of my breasts. When I had
walked far enough that my nipples graced the salty sweetness of the ocean, my breath caught in my
chest and I thought the pounding of my heart would waken the Leviathans. It was then that my
courage deserted me, and I turned back to the shore in desolation, believing I would never see him
again.
But as I stepped toward safety, I felt something brush against my thigh. I knew it to be him, long
before his head surfaced between my breasts, his eyes sparkling and radiant as an otter.
A sweep of golden scales brushed his cheekbones and his long dark hair swam in the water
around my body, tickling my flesh with a tentative promise, but when his tail breached the surface long
enough to reflect the mid-day sun in a flash of brilliance – I lost my mind and began laughing with joy.
He tipped his head to the side as if to listen and I saw the rippled gills of his lungs along his neck
and down the front of his chest. His ears were sharp points of golden skin and without thought, I
stretched out to touch him. He splashed a thunderous arc with his tail and dove free of my reach,
speeding out into the depths.
Startled and fearful of losing him I charged after him toward the center of the world but fate is cruel
to the curious, and the earth fell out from under my feet dropping my body below the waves.
I struck out with my arms, flailing in the water and drinking in the salt blood of mother.
It happened quickly, that his arms encircled my chest and his tail coiled about my naked legs with
graceful strength. He held me then, below the surface our tangled bodies a moment of unlikely union
caught in the current.
I remembered to hold my breath and as I gazed at him through the salty haze he smiled and
pressed his cold lips to mine. I knew then, that I would die. I knew with his kiss that he had loved me
for years. I knew with his kiss that he’d watched me grow from a coltish girl running along the sand to a
young woman with breasts and a penchant for curiosity. I knew as he kissed me, tightening his body
around mine, that he’d yearned for me each time I walked along the shore. I knew as he kissed me
and his long hair cocooned us in a vast net of ethereal possibilities, that he had spent days waiting for
me to gather shells, then hiding from me for fear of rejection. And I also knew as he kissed me – he
had no comprehension that I, being human, would drown in his embrace.
I cupped a hand against his jaw marveling at the slick texture of his skin and kissed him back to tell
him, somehow I’d always known he was there and I too, loved him deeply. As I kissed him with my last
breath, I knew that I would part this world knowing I had touched what beauty so few truly believe is
real. I would die in mother’s womb, salted tears and pulsing rhythm. I would die happy but he would
live – he would live while my broken body swayed in the tide. He would live knowing he was
responsible for breaking what he had yearned for, burned for, coveted and finally achieved – only to
destroy it. I knew as glimmers flashed at the corners of my vision, that he would never really know how
he’d killed me – but he would know somehow – he was responsible.
I felt his scales against my skin and as I lost breath, my eyes going dark, I could sense him
squeezing tighter as though he understood somehow he was losing me and struggled to keep me
close – bind me to him so I could not get away.
I was happy. I was dying.
It was then that I remembered how much I loved the sun. I remembered how dearly I would miss
the stars, the sound of violins, the joy of running through the forest and the sweet pleasure of fresh
honey. I remembered as the blackness crept in and the fire in my lungs gave way to emptiness – I
remembered, I really wanted to live.
I struggled, feebly at first, but then with strength born of a will to survive. Thrashing with the need
to breathe and the convulsions of death spiking through my mind I clawed against him. His body
shuddered as though I’d wounded him and all at once his sinuous body released me, throwing me up
toward the world where I breached the surface – my lungs feasting air, my limbs flailing.
My body continued to fight the water as my spirit found reserves to survive – live. Even while
slapping the waves I vomited saltwater back into the collective. Then as I dipped once below the water
my toe scrapped sand. Instinctively, I pushed toward the surface again and began an ungainly hop
along the bottom until I could stand on my own two feet and breathe.
Still up to my ribs in the water I turned back to where he watched me from a distance, hurt and
angry. He had thrust me away for not wanting to die, betrayed that I could not breathe his beloved
water. I turned back toward the shore, coughing and trudging against the tide and at the edge of my
vision I saw him vanish in a splash of gold, a spectacular lunge through the air of his magnificent body
then a crystal collision with the waves, his tail sending diamond spray to the heavens. I gave my tears
to mother and wondered if he would taste them.
He has gone back to his world – and I must return to mine.
By Athena
I saw him while gathering shells at the edge of the water. Still a child really, not comprehending
the weight of choice, I saw only his godly body, magnificent golden-scaled and glistening, his dark hair
entangled in strands of seaweed and luminous eyes watching me with the depth of the ocean. That
first day he simply watched from a rock where the swells broke against the jagged shore, sun beating
down on azure waters.
When I returned home with my basket of shells I asked my father, “Are the Merfolk real?”
I already knew they must be, for I’d seen one, but his answer left me knowing beyond a doubt that I
had not imagined the Merman that day. “Only fools believe in such creatures,” father said with a
gnarled salt-rasped voice.
And that easily, my mind was determined. I would see the Merman again.
I went to the water’s edge each day for a month, standing with my toes in the surf and the water of
mother washing the sand from under my feet with each wave. I stood in angry storms and blazing sun
and under stars to catch a glimpse of him. My skin freckled and my legs chafed raw from the salt of
the ocean and the constant rush of sand. But though my hair whipped into my eyes and my baskets
overflowed with shells, I did not witness his glory again.
One day, in a fit of childish impetuousness, I decided to go in search of him. The half man half
god with fins of sunlight, wild kelp hair and jeweled eyes.
I placed my basket of shells in the sand, stripped off my linen shift and stepped into the water.
Cool and encompassing, mother embraced me and I walked one foot before the other with each
rhythmic heartbeat of her vast body. Each step my mind raced and my fear mounted – because I did
not know how to swim.
How far could I go in search of him? How long could I walk?
The water held my body with gentle acceptance, my hips submerged and the weight of the sea
rocked my pelvis with languid ease and I wondered if she were asking me to dance, or encouraging me
to make love. My ribs touched the cool wetness then the under curve of my breasts. When I had
walked far enough that my nipples graced the salty sweetness of the ocean, my breath caught in my
chest and I thought the pounding of my heart would waken the Leviathans. It was then that my
courage deserted me, and I turned back to the shore in desolation, believing I would never see him
again.
But as I stepped toward safety, I felt something brush against my thigh. I knew it to be him, long
before his head surfaced between my breasts, his eyes sparkling and radiant as an otter.
A sweep of golden scales brushed his cheekbones and his long dark hair swam in the water
around my body, tickling my flesh with a tentative promise, but when his tail breached the surface long
enough to reflect the mid-day sun in a flash of brilliance – I lost my mind and began laughing with joy.
He tipped his head to the side as if to listen and I saw the rippled gills of his lungs along his neck
and down the front of his chest. His ears were sharp points of golden skin and without thought, I
stretched out to touch him. He splashed a thunderous arc with his tail and dove free of my reach,
speeding out into the depths.
Startled and fearful of losing him I charged after him toward the center of the world but fate is cruel
to the curious, and the earth fell out from under my feet dropping my body below the waves.
I struck out with my arms, flailing in the water and drinking in the salt blood of mother.
It happened quickly, that his arms encircled my chest and his tail coiled about my naked legs with
graceful strength. He held me then, below the surface our tangled bodies a moment of unlikely union
caught in the current.
I remembered to hold my breath and as I gazed at him through the salty haze he smiled and
pressed his cold lips to mine. I knew then, that I would die. I knew with his kiss that he had loved me
for years. I knew with his kiss that he’d watched me grow from a coltish girl running along the sand to a
young woman with breasts and a penchant for curiosity. I knew as he kissed me, tightening his body
around mine, that he’d yearned for me each time I walked along the shore. I knew as he kissed me
and his long hair cocooned us in a vast net of ethereal possibilities, that he had spent days waiting for
me to gather shells, then hiding from me for fear of rejection. And I also knew as he kissed me – he
had no comprehension that I, being human, would drown in his embrace.
I cupped a hand against his jaw marveling at the slick texture of his skin and kissed him back to tell
him, somehow I’d always known he was there and I too, loved him deeply. As I kissed him with my last
breath, I knew that I would part this world knowing I had touched what beauty so few truly believe is
real. I would die in mother’s womb, salted tears and pulsing rhythm. I would die happy but he would
live – he would live while my broken body swayed in the tide. He would live knowing he was
responsible for breaking what he had yearned for, burned for, coveted and finally achieved – only to
destroy it. I knew as glimmers flashed at the corners of my vision, that he would never really know how
he’d killed me – but he would know somehow – he was responsible.
I felt his scales against my skin and as I lost breath, my eyes going dark, I could sense him
squeezing tighter as though he understood somehow he was losing me and struggled to keep me
close – bind me to him so I could not get away.
I was happy. I was dying.
It was then that I remembered how much I loved the sun. I remembered how dearly I would miss
the stars, the sound of violins, the joy of running through the forest and the sweet pleasure of fresh
honey. I remembered as the blackness crept in and the fire in my lungs gave way to emptiness – I
remembered, I really wanted to live.
I struggled, feebly at first, but then with strength born of a will to survive. Thrashing with the need
to breathe and the convulsions of death spiking through my mind I clawed against him. His body
shuddered as though I’d wounded him and all at once his sinuous body released me, throwing me up
toward the world where I breached the surface – my lungs feasting air, my limbs flailing.
My body continued to fight the water as my spirit found reserves to survive – live. Even while
slapping the waves I vomited saltwater back into the collective. Then as I dipped once below the water
my toe scrapped sand. Instinctively, I pushed toward the surface again and began an ungainly hop
along the bottom until I could stand on my own two feet and breathe.
Still up to my ribs in the water I turned back to where he watched me from a distance, hurt and
angry. He had thrust me away for not wanting to die, betrayed that I could not breathe his beloved
water. I turned back toward the shore, coughing and trudging against the tide and at the edge of my
vision I saw him vanish in a splash of gold, a spectacular lunge through the air of his magnificent body
then a crystal collision with the waves, his tail sending diamond spray to the heavens. I gave my tears
to mother and wondered if he would taste them.
He has gone back to his world – and I must return to mine.
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