Seaside

A young mermaid rests down the beach upon a large, flat stone, her dark, drying curls of hair tousled by the sea breeze, the whole maid colored as deep brown as special dark chocolate from the tip of her nose, to the tips of her tail. Even her scale-free skin is smooth and rich, like lacquered hardwood, and where the light pierces through her earth toned hair, the brown seems almost gilded; ever so faintly, as if each scale had its outermost, thin edge carefully rolled but a millimeter deep into fantastic paints, so that metallic blues and greens shimmer like magical borders about the rich, dark depths of her scaled tail, gills, and fin-ears. These scales shine on the back of her hands, her elbows and shoulders, upon her hips and over the flats and peaks of her collarbone and chest, and the tall rise of her cheekbones, about the oddly wide shape of her round eyes. Her breasts, stomach, neck, inner arms, and face, however, are all plain skin: smooth, and hairless, and seemingly carved from black walnut wood.

Most peculiar, though they cannot see it, is the mermaid’s face. Instead of a nose (what use is such a thing within the sea?), the center region of her face bares only the smallest protrusion, the most diminutive of shapes that suggests, long ago, her kind may have had such a thing, after all. The sea nymph’s diminutive mouth, with almost black lips, that are supple, and perfectly formed, hide three rows of sharp teeth, like a sharks, which are carefully hidden behind what seems to be demure beauty.

Brushing her hair, and singing with the haunting, whale-song and whistle like voice of the merfolk, her torso is turned away from the Basin patrol, and so she does not sea them, nor they her wide, Caribbean colored eyes, or the pale pink and cream shell bra she wears bound about her breast with stands of woven hair. What they would see is the sunlight, shining on her gently waving tail, and the steady roll and slap of the sea as she moves her tail fins in, and out, with the rhythm of her ethereal cries, and the steady movement of her scaled hands brushing the tangles away from her knee length, almost black hair. Her gaze, for all that can be told, is seemingly on the rise of the Sun, suggesting that her time on this beach is likely limited.

Setting her elegant, hand-crafted bone comb alongside her on the rock, and what appears to be a conch shell with a hole placed into its side and the very tip of the shell worn away (an instrument, perhaps?), the mermaid places her palms flat on the stone behind her, and admires the rays of the sun, her song weaving among the cries of the waking gulls.

Tallsun Y8 Sneak Patrol