The Island Curse

Not Yet

It took two days for me to learn how to shift back into my human form. Two days of being trapped in a strange world of blue and flickering light. I wasn't alone. There were dozens of Merrow who went through their first shifts that night- the magic holding them back breaking at the moment of my father's death. But I avoided anyone who approached me.

By the time I figured out the trick to shifting, my tail felt as familiar to me as my legs. The need to constantly escape others was a good motivator for mastering the mermaid life.

On the morning of the third day, I slipped out of the sea as the first rays of the sun shot orange across the sky. I wobbled with every step, and a few scales still clung to my skin- mostly around my breasts and waist. I wasn't sure if it was a matter of practice or modesty. Either way, I appreciated the cover.

A short walk brought me to a cottage nestled against a craggy cliff. I'd chosen this location because of the house and its clear lack of occupants. The state of the inside confirmed my suspicions. Dust coated every surface until the original color of the walls and floors was a mystery. Cobwebs fit for a haunted house clung to the ceilings and corners, and most of the windows were busted.

My first order of business was finding something to wear. I didn't care what the other Merrow said or did. Walking about in the nude held no appeal, but my options were limited unless I wanted to brave the old stairs to the second floor. The first wooden step nearly buckled beneath my foot so I settled for a sheet covering a rocking chair.

The cloth was as old as everything else in the house. The hem was ragged, and I had to be careful when I was tying it around me as it tore at the slightest tug. I wrapped it over one shoulder and knotted it at my waist. It ended at mid thigh- higher than I liked, but better than naked.

Strange, the sense of comfort that washed over me from something as simple as wearing clothes. It made me feel like me. Isla. A human girl from Mississippi. Not this creature of myth. This orphan.

A choked sob escaped, and I pressed my head against the wall. Not once in the last two days had I let myself cry. I wasn't sure if I deserved to. My father might have saved my life, but one good deed didn't erase the past. It didn't change the fact that he was willing to sacrifice me when it had been on his own terms.

Losing him reinforced a fact I'd tried to ignore during those weeks before my birthday. Being hurt or disappointed by another person didn't mean you stopped loving them. I wanted so badly to hate him. I stopped calling him dad. I told myself I didn't need him in my life. My friends were enough. But those were all lies I told myself to keep a bandage over the wound festering in my heart.

The truth was, I'd been mourning his loss far longer than two days.

Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I straightened. Technically, I wasn't an orphan. My mother was living, but once the initial shock of her reappearance wore off, I stopped feeling so grateful. After all, she abandoned me to this fate. She knew what had to happen and rather than fight for me; she left. She was no better than my father in that regard.

So where did that leave me? After two days of floating above white sand ocean bottoms and staring up through the blue, I didn't have an answer. Part of me wanted to go back home. I could live with Mel until we graduated. Go to college. Be human. The other part of me wondered if that was possible, and now that I'd returned to land, I knew it wasn't.

The sea sang to me. The shore was yards away, but my heart thudded in the same rhythm as the waves. My skin tingled with the constant desire to change forms, and my tongue tasted like the salt and sand that filtered through the gills on my neck.

I was as Merrow as I was human. It was terrifying how fast this new part of me became indispensable.

That left me with one choice. Hiding away here until I figured myself out. Away from anyone who might be tempted to sway me to their side. No matter how well intentioned they were.