mermaid
mermaid
The old lighthouse keeper, Elias, had always scoffed at the tales of mermaids. They were just stories, he’d say, spun from salt spray and the lonely hearts of sailors. But one stormy night, as the waves crashed against the cliffs like angry fists, Elias’s world shifted on its axis.
He was gazing out the lighthouse window, the wind howling like a banshee, when he saw a flash of silver amidst the churning water. It was fleeting, gone as quickly as it appeared, but something about its elegance, its almost human grace, stuck with him.
Days turned into weeks, and Elias couldn’t shake the image from his mind. Then, one day, he found her. Stranded on the rocks, her tail mangled, a young mermaid lay gasping for breath. Her scales shimmered emerald green in the fading light, and her eyes, as blue as the ocean itself, held a silent plea.
Elias, despite his initial skepticism, couldn’t leave her to die. He carried her back to the lighthouse, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and wonder. He tended to her wounds, the mermaid’s gaze never leaving his face. She spoke in a language that sounded like the whisper of the tide, but her pain was clear, a raw, primal emotion.
He spent the next few days tending to her, bringing her fresh fish and talking to her in hushed tones, even though he couldn’t understand her words. As her tail began to heal, so did their bond. He learned about her world, the vibrant coral reefs and the ancient secrets of the sea. She, in turn, learned about the world above the waves, the smell of rain on earth, the warmth of the sun on her skin.
One day, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and crimson, the mermaid, whom Elias had named Coralia, announced she was ready to return to the ocean. He watched her swim away, her tail glistening in the fading light, a tear rolling down his cheek.
For years after Coralia’s departure, Elias continued to keep the lighthouse, but his world was forever changed. He saw the sea differently, with a reverence he’d never known before. He knew that somewhere out there, in the vast expanse of the ocean, Coralia swam, carrying with her a piece of the world above, a memory of the lighthouse keeper who had saved her.
And sometimes, on calm, moonlit nights, when the waves whispered secrets to the shore, Elias would swear he could hear Coralia’s voice, calling out to him, a melody as ancient and beautiful as the sea itself.
