Water, Power, Danger

They said don't go in the water. But I was never one to follow rules, take advice, or color within the lines.

          The warning signs were everywhere: on the road, at the beach, right along the shores.

          Danger! Turn back. Enter at your own risk.

          The lifeguard chairs were unmanned. The beaches uncluttered by towels and chairs and humans.

          In a way it was beautiful, the only life the creatures of the sea. Clams and snails and fish and crabs. As well as those monsters unseen.

          But I wasn't afraid of monsters. I had already faced so many.

          Plus there was the siren song, the water luring, and I could not resist.

          There were other signs of distress. The clothes washed up, shapeless, on the beach. The cars in the parking lot that looked like they'd been sitting for days or weeks. As with anything, not everyone who enters would return.

          But I was cocky, confident. I would take my chances.

          I was undeterred by the man who rose up from the sand to warn me.

          “Miss,” he said, “I’m sure you've heard.”

          “Yes, yes,” I said, impatiently, dismissively, for I had been answering the call for days.

          I drove here from the part of the state where there is no water.

          He nodded sadly.

          “Yes,” he said, “I suppose someone has to sacrifice herself. If you're sure.” Then turtle man went back to hiding in the sand.

          There are so many interesting animals that exist on the edge of land and sea. Most will never see them because they don't know where to look.

          I stripped down to my skin and walked slowly steadily into the water's warm welcoming embrace. Part of me resisted. I was doing what he wanted now. I hated that he could demand, and I'd respond. He was merciless, and he did not hesitate to use my affection for humans against me.

          “If I do this,” I said, “will you let the others go?”

          The sea king nodded, but I needed proof.

          The ocean released them. Gasping, horror stricken, they emerged with blue tinted skin and soaking clothes. Looking a bit like zombies, they seemed crazy grateful.

          "It was you that they wanted," an old man said.

          I nodded. The sound of my voice, now that I was in the water, would shatter them.

          But silently I corrected him. Not them, but him. My father demanded his price, my freedom. If I didn't return, the humans would suffer. He was so tiresome and tyrannical as fathers of daughters often are.

          "Ariel," a young boy whispered, "your father is waiting."

          I nodded again and turned away. I didn't want him to see my tears.

          I wished I had told Eric goodbye. The farther I walked, the more I would change. Legs to fins, lungs to gills. I would become my sea self, triumphant and trapped.

          But underwater rumbling, my father would hear my voice, and one day, maybe not for another hundred years, and maybe not with this prince but another, my father would let me live life free.