Peering through the cattails, she saw a man with a fishing pole, standing on
an outcropping. He seemed alone, caught in a bit of reverie, gazing at his line
skipping along the surface of the water.
She dipped below the surface of the water, toward the shiver of the fishing
line. With green-spotted fingers, she lifted the struggling fish from the hook.
The line jerked away.
The man swore.
Muirenn lifted her head above the water.
“Holy shit.” The man stumbled backward. “I didn’t realize you were swimming
there . . . I . . .”
His expression changed from embarrassment to curiosity as he looked at her.
The pupils of his eyes dilated. “Who . . . are you?”
Muirenn gripped the fish close to her chest, giving a small smile.
The fisherman crouched on the rock, setting his pole beside him. “Wow. You’re
uh . . . green? Is that real?”
Muirenn cocked her head and slipped forward a bit in the water. The edge of
her tail skimmed above the surface.
“Is that like . . . one of those tails that the girls have at that park in
Florida? For a movie or something?” His suntanned brow wrinkled. “No. That’s
real,” he decided. “You, um . . . want the fish? You can have it.”
She was within arm’s length of him. She released the squirming fish into the
water.
“You wanted to let it go? Look, I . . .”
The man talked too much. She swam closer, tentatively.
The fisherman looked at her, at her dappled skin and the dark rust hair
spreading into the water. She wouldn’t ordinarily have been so bold. The weight
off her tail was going to her head. She let him take in the black of her eyes,
the gills on her throat. He gazed in wonder, and his fingers twitched to a small
square piece of plastic on top of his tackle box.
“Can I take your picture? What . . . are you?”
A smile played across her lips, and she spoke to him in a silvery voice. “I’m
the Mermaid.”
“Wow. I . . . wow. I’m, uh, Norm. Do I, like, make a wish or something?”
“You can, if you want. I’ll listen.”
She reached up with delicate fingers to touch him. Her fingers brushed the
pockets of his fishing vest, playing with wonder over the bits and baubles there
meant to lure the attention of fish. The man forgot about his camera and stared,
transfixed.
Muirenn reached up for his collar . . .
. . . and dragged him down into the water.
He splashed and flailed. She brought him down—down to the bottom of the
creek. It wasn’t so far, but it was far enough for a land dweller. He couldn’t
fight her for long. He thrashed until his lungs grew heavy with creek water. He
convulsed as the lack of oxygen reached his heart and filtered up to his brain.
And then he stopped.
Muirenn grinned, showing row upon row of shark-like teeth. She ripped off his
arm and began to chew. It had been so long since she’d had anything but the
errant fish that wandered into her realm . . . this was a meal worth waiting
for.
The creek ran red.
Red as the idle red-and-white bobber drifting on the surface of the
water.
