Hook Line and Sinker
Title: Hook, Line and Sinker
Fandom: Original
Table: 22 1/5 Prompt: 02 get it out
words: 1778
Rating: T
Summary: A young man finds a woman in the waves. Beautiful and exotic, how could he ever deny the spark of love between them? (If love were, in fact, what she was searching for.)
I. I was a young man of only twenty-four when I stumbled upon the most marvelous sight that I would ever see. I was both old and young that night, having just reached adulthood but being as old as I would ever be. I was a writer, working for a newspaper of no importance. I could give you the name, but you would not recognize it then or now, ten years after it had shut its doors and all production and publication had stopped.
I was down on my luck that night and was staring gloomily out at the waves lapping against the shore of the beach. The waves shone in the moonlight, looking almost metallic in the darkness like silver blades.
My gaze was captured by a woman, of all things to find at the beach late into the night.
Long raven hair flowed along wide hips, darker than even the night of the new moon among the darkest Feudal forests. Extending from the hips upward there rested a slim waist, lacking a navel. From above the waist branched two limbs, long arms that were incredibly strong, and paler than the barren snow of Canada's winter, skin that glowed softly under the light of the stars and moon. Four digits sprouted from each hand. There was no thumb. A slight webbing could be seen between the first joints on each finger. The neck of the woman was long and slender. It was an attractive neck, like that of a giraffe or a swan, and it held her head with a kind of grace. Her chin was sharp, defined. Along her face there was first a mouth that was long and thin so light in colour that the lips were almost blue. Next sat a sharp nose and then, two pairs of soulful eyes that sparked with some voltage of electricity.
Her breasts were uncovered, for she had no need to hide what skin she had. The woman, if she could be referred to as such, was not cold in the chilly spring water, nor did she posses the modesty of a human girl.
Along the delicate curve of her neck, there were carved fours gills.
That night was the first that I saw her there, in that lake just a fifteen minute walk from my home. I found her beauty to be quite exotic, like a whole new race of humans.
When I stepped toward her though, began picking my way over gunk that had arrived on the beach shore from the lake, she vanished.
I was the fish that night, a young man caught hook, line and sinker by a woman who's name I did not even know.
II. It turns out that she did not have a name.
I came to this sad conclusion one night after having too many beers. I stumbled down to the beach from a rather dull party of my friend Henry's. There seemed to be something more in her eyes tonight. They seemed brighter, excited. Her lips were flushed instead of translucent and her hair fanned out behind her, swirling in the currents that lapped at her body. She remained there, treading water I assumed, staring at me.
I slurred my name, introduced myself. She never answered me, but I saw her lips quirk up at the corners before she dived back beneath the waves, and long shimmering tail splashed the water where she had been.
When I awoke, coated exclusively on my right side with sand and gagging on the smell of the lake's plant life that had washed over me during the night, I told myself that it was just a dream.
III. I waited until the sun had set before I went back. The Bud Lite bottle on the ground, the sand around which had been just barely eroded by the tide, could have belonged to anyone. I left it there when I saw the water begin to bubble near the surface.
I wasn't ready to prove myself delusional just yet, and learning that my sea-woman was really just some lost trout would do little to improve my mood.
I found myself thinking of her while I wrote that night, and I must say that my paper on the sea life of Lake Erie was the best that I wrote during my time as a human man.
IV. My third story, rejected by that blasted paper for which I worked, was not the first that I had written that had been cast away. It still stung though, like salt in a wound. Bills weighed heavily over my chest. I should have be finding another job, I knew that I had to support myself before I sank even further into debt.
The waves danced around my feet, and I stared down at them, lost in thought.
When I looked back toward water off of the shore her eyes met mine. They were brighter than a clear day in August, filled with warmth. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She looked dejected, and turned around to leave, and I noticed that this was the first time that she had come so close to the shore that I could see her clearly. I was more surprised to see that she had both legs and other womanly parts than I was to confirm that they each ended in a long, transparent flipper instead of a human foot.
I called after her, and she recoiled. I noticed blood in the water and waded in deeper. She did not run from me, but swayed, perfectly still, allowing me to run a finger over the flimsy material of her flipper and up her calf. There was something in her ankle. Extracting first a hook from her ankle, I then moved up to her wrist. She flinched when I plucked the beer glass from her forearm.
I let her go then, as she tugged firmly yet did not struggle.
She tried to speak again, but this time it came out as a breathy whisper. I could not make out the words.
The fear that clenched my heart, however, was silly. It was a stupid reaction, what had I to fear from the delicate creature before me? I waded away from her, back towards the shore. She watched me go with sad eyes.
I dreamed that she told me that she loved me.
V. I had to go back, to hear her out. I wanted to speak to her as well, assuming that she could understand English. I doubted that she even knew how tightly she clutched me in those long fingers of hers.
When I approached the sand I took one last look at the sky. Something would change here, tonight. I would tell her how I felt, and that would transform both of our lives.
The stars winked at me as though they were in on my conspiracy. The wind, though cold, whistled along my skin and I thought I could hear it screaming at me to move forward.
When I reached the shore, she was there. knee deep in the water. The webs from her fingers were gone, her skin was flushed prettily. She looked more real tonight, more exquisite. When she saw me a slow smile spread across her face and her cheeks burned a light shade of pink.
Laughing, I ran into her arms and pulled her to me, deliriously happy.
"I love you," I whispered, and everything was right in the world, for she was enchanting.
I studied her face carefully and whispered softly, "So, what did you have to say to me?"
She leaned in, kissed me likely on the cheek.
"You are quite handsome," she breathed in a soft, silky voice, happy to have finally gotten it out. “I love you too. Stay with me.”
I didn't protest as she took me in her arms and began leading me out to the furthest waves, fish nibbling on my toes.
VI. I did not struggle until we were too far out to see the pier.
The eyes of the woman-creature that had captivated me so grew cold as we treaded water, changing as the moon sank below the horizon and the sun made its appearance. I watched as they regained their spark of electricity and her fingers grew bonier. Her legs became one, and I felt a large, oily tail brush against me beneath the surface of the lake water. She spoke in hisses, with a forked tongue. She opened her mouth and her teeth were long and jagged, uneven and menacing.
She was still beautiful, radiant, but there was a new, menacing quality to her now and I struggled a bit in her arms, pleading with her to stop, asking where she was taking me.
By then I knew that it was too late. Her exotic beauty became completely alien and I whimpered when she released me.
The skin seemed to melt from her arms. It dripped away, revealing scales where there had once been skin. Marvelous, yet I knew by then what it meant for me.
A fish captured by the hook, I could only watch as the monster leaned in toward me, opening her mouth wide in a final kiss.
I struggled, kicked and screamed as she pulled me downward and I lost all conscious thought.
VII. The fish swam around me, bumping into me. I swam up, using the motion of my tail to propel me forward through the currents. Swimming was wondrous, weightless. There were no bills to pay or editors to worry about here beneath the sea.
I nudged the feminine hand that hung in the water and brushed against her hips.
I received none of her attention now, but noted how she watched the humans on shore with a scowl on her face and wonder lighting her eyes when she saw a particularly handsome young man.
There were others like me, who had once been men.
A boy waded into the water and pulled a rock back. We watched it skip across the surface of the lake before he reached for another.
My sea-woman pulled herself a little further from the water, an alluring smile on her face.
The boy stumbled from the water, shocked even as we sank beneath the waves again, and I could remember the feeling of my heart flying in my chest when she gave me the same look, before I was hers. Our fish laughter sent bubbles to the surface.
She had him then, you see, like she had all men who did not keep their wits about them. Hook, line, and sinker.