Write, Wrote, Written discussion

Sarah's Writing > The Merman (Short Story)

Comments Showing 1-10 of 10 (10 new)    post a comment »
dateDown arrow    newest »

message 1: by sᴀʀᴀʜ (last edited Aug 29, 2014 06:30PM) (new)

sᴀʀᴀʜ | 28 comments He was there, a shimmering figure that moved and talked in a strange, seductive language, with penetrating azure eyes that were rimmed with heavy, dark lashes. They all watched as if he were a deity, something to be praised and yet he was looked down upon, and from all angles they observed his movements.

There were scientists, politicians, doctors, lawyers, cleaners, waiters, serving-girls and mothers; fathers, sons, daughters and babies, and a good amount of furry plush toys belonging to the children. Those who had graduated from a good university and gotten a well-paid job looked on this specimen, analysing him- the curve of his torso, the formation of his queer legs, the slits at his throat, and with tubes they measured the amount of carbon dioxide, oxygen, hydrogen and nitrogen present in the bubbles which escaped from his mouth.
The limewater turned milky, yes, but the glowing splint burned out and they conducted further tests, stuck him with sensors to re-trace his movements, pioneered a minute camera down his throat for the tiny thing to be engulfed by the peristaltic waves of his muscles as he swallowed.

He was the embodiment of futuristic sciences that were well beyond their reach: or so they thought. He was something that so many had heard of but never believed in- for to all they were naught but pictures and words in a child's story. And all the knowledge these scientists, doctors and politicians held combined together- a hundred or so were attempting to solve this puzzle- could not help them give a rational explanation for the simple- being of this- this creature. This hybrid, this monster.

Contrary to their elders, the children marvelled at the sight of him. The teenage girls swooned at the sight of his muscular torso, but toon reclined as their eyes swept over his lower half. The younger ones, however, danced around him, thinking if such was possible, then all their dreams of unicorns and faeries and other magical beings were real. That this man was the open door to the ultimate faith in their fantasies. Some, for instance, boldly announced to their parents that they would have to quit school for Peter Pan was to soon take them to Neverland; and there they would stay and never need worry about anything related to growing up ever again. Others claimed that by the morn of the first of September they would be in one of London's black taxis on their way to King's Cross station with a Snowy owl perched on their left forearms, with a signed acceptance letter tucked up, folded neatly in a breast pocket.
But all their mothers in the white laboratory coats simply told them it was nonsense. And they all bent befuddled over the railing as they injected anaesthesia into his blood system and, with stopwatches, they measured the time it would take until his movements stilled, and until he hovered there, like a broken marionette- head hung low, strings snapped; a shimmering doll of incomprehensible manner and stuck full of tubes and wires. They calculated the exact time- it was around seven minutes and three-quarters of a minute until he stopped swimming- or for that matter- until her stopped thrashing about and hissing. He beheld a set of jagged teeth behind full, silken lips, which under normal circumstances appeared humanoid- white teeth; flat, normal. But he had crossed the line and pushed too far; through the sea foam that obscured most of his body from above, one could see his wide, electric-blue eyes rolling as he tried to escape from these strange people.

But he had no chance of standing up to these strangers- for they did not understand him; and he had already achieved the feat of scaring them. Fear- yes, fear. It seemed to be his only option- and yet it could not save him.

For they were too rash in decisions, too quick to think, too trusty in their devices that they did not even barely graze the surface of their attempts at comprehending what they had never seen before. The superior race, they called themselves; top of the food chain, dictators of the world, and they denied all which could destroy them as a population.

They would never comprehend, he thought, as he felt his consciousness slowly drifting away, slowly, slowly, as his eyelids began to close, close, close, over the goggling, demented faces visible behind the meter-thick glass.

message 2: by sᴀʀᴀʜ (new)

sᴀʀᴀʜ | 28 comments THANK YOU! :)

message 3: by sᴀʀᴀʜ (new)

sᴀʀᴀʜ | 28 comments I PROBABLY WILL AND THANK YOU FOR THE COMMENT! *goes and huddles in a corner and cries* It means insanely much to me. :)

message 4: by sᴀʀᴀʜ (new)

sᴀʀᴀʜ | 28 comments Oh my GOD I have a fan. Thank you. :)

message 5: by sᴀʀᴀʜ (new)

sᴀʀᴀʜ | 28 comments Aww, thank you. ^-^ *hugs*

It's Jennifer! :)

message 6: by sᴀʀᴀʜ (new)

sᴀʀᴀʜ | 28 comments XD Thank you.

message 7: by sᴀʀᴀʜ (new)

sᴀʀᴀʜ | 28 comments Aww. Okay. Well, I do have more on here:


message 8: by sᴀʀᴀʜ (new)

sᴀʀᴀʜ | 28 comments Thank you. :)

message 10: by sᴀʀᴀʜ (new)

sᴀʀᴀʜ | 28 comments Holy cows, Alice.

back to top