14
A little Mermaid.
Hard light. Tongue hurt. Stub. Face. Closer. Face. Witch. Eyes. Ow. Legs. Ow. Legs.
She doesn’t understand this language fully yet it is not hers it’s not what she was born with.
Tail. Two tail now. Foot ended tails. Balance. Up. Up. Wobble. Fall.
I gave her some of it, I mean the basics. I don’t think it will help but what can you do? Teenage girls are stubborn little things. I once was one myself and so I know this.
Ow. Legs that tail were once. Ow. Ow. Feet. Ow. Tongue. Ow. Tongue. Ow. Light filtered through nothing and ow my eyes. Ow the eyes that live inside my head. Ow them. Ow them hurt.
There is a thing that women sometimes say. You must suffer to be beautiful. I think the last three words are quite redundant. But what would I know? I’m a witch and nobody should come to me and ask things.
Sea home. Back. Back. Ow. Back. Sea. Back. Home. Sisters. Back. Want. Want sea. Want water and want sand. Skin hurt. Ow skin. Ow my skin. Skin hurt.
She wrinkled her forehead and thought of her prince. Like she was about to take a dose of something good for her and didn’t like the taste.
Water. Water. Water. Oh. Oh this water. Arms. Two arms grab and I want the water but they grab at me. My stomach and my skin. Ow my stomach. Ow my skin and ow the in of me that wants the water.
I reached my hand in and ripped out her voice. Put paid to that.
Man. Big Man. Him. No, not him. I want the other one. The gentle one from lying on the sand when I was me and not another thing. Ow my tongue and ow my feet. I try to tell them things. My mouth can’t shape the words it needs a tongue.
She has to learn. Sooner or later we all have to learn. It is a kindness really.
Man friend here. Big friend. Help big friend. Feet hurt tongue hurt. Rub him stomach. Rub him face. His face. I know more now. About the way they say things. It grows more when I use.
Singing isn’t how you keep a man. Or kindness. I’m not sure what you need to keep a man. I’ve never wanted one that much. Parts of them yes. To use in making magic. Surprise him. Put him in a bottle and don’t engage with any protestations.
I want water. I want water. I want water. I break things and I pull but when he comes then I am gentle, gentle. He smiles at me and I make my mouth wide as well. Ow my mouth. He rub the little ridge behind my ears and smile at me and calm.
I have a lot of bottles. Man bits, woman bits. Mer bits, land bits. Little souvenirs. The more they matter, the more potent they are.
I must behave. Even when it hurts I must behave. He says this to me. Says: “I want to keep you”. I make my mouth so wide and twirl and twirl.
I used a bit of Jack to give her legs. She thought that I would help her out for nothing, I think. Or hoped. Hope is such a stubborn little feeling. Sometimes it can drag on for a century or more.
He likes me dancing. I can dance so nice on these two legs. When they were tail before I still could dance but I could go up and down as well as out and around. They’re limited these dancers on the land. Always out and around and sometimes down but only sometimes up and just a little. I miss the water. I wonder if I’d drown if I went back. He smiles at me. His eyes. He likes me dancing.
Of course once that goes, my bottles aren’t as potent. Sometimes I’ll plant ideas in my storeroom. Storm in, searching and then storm out and a few days later count my bottles, glaring.
I am small and I am in his arms and I am small, a small thing and I’m floating. If he loves me, my voice will come and I will say it back.
As if escape were possible.
His eyes will go all wide and I will put my fingers in his hair and rub and rub and sing like when he was all grey upon the beach and I’ll surprise him. It is me. I’ll say. The girl you love is me and not another.
And he will know it’s true because my voice will spill around the room and light him up like when he smiles lights me.
The bottle with her voice in ripples colours. I’ll use it to get sailors later on.