, whose white lips had swallowed countless fishing boats, stealing whatever laid within. A young sailor on his maiden voyage, more nervous than most aboard, had heard of

ell, further away from the safety of its moon-bleached shore. Out

fish the sea bare for a buck. Whenever they pulled up the lines, they'd always checked it's contents: there were things in

homesick whenever he looked out to the waves. A mem

d in his mind. "If you go, I feel a

breath dizzy with alcohol and eyes glazed over. Another late-night bout going 'round the

s pay today if

n't

e rent

n't

money will we

e, just please

. He shook her loose and shut the door. He didn't turn as he walked down the garde

lled out a sailor, brin

onto the ship's gunwale. That w

ened peach. The sea rejoiced, its song bitter cold and familiar, its harshness stirring the waves int

d puckered gills flapped arduously in the folds of her neck, suffocating in the air. Hair like knotted twine fell to her hips. Her tail burned and itched where skin used to be, rubbed ra

ds, salt stinging her eyes. But she rose once more, she saw him at last; star

y that made the village girls' hearts flutter-hearts that seemed as thin as paper when he tore them in two. He was a

beginning to form around the eyes, lips pulled down in a permanent scowl. And now, face to face, she sm

the song of the sea. He hesitated,

their urgent grasp with her life. Years later, when she finally stepped foot on the beach once more, the water's frothing edge brushed her foot when she wasn't paying attention. She screamed. The laughs

armth of the day fading with it. The girl's paper heart fluttered in its cage

n she reached up to kiss him

like chains around her ankles, strong and slick, and the water closed around her, choking her, coaxing the las

d foolish, and proud of their heartless trick. They wa

render. Around her, the sea hissed, its sirens singing sweetly to the sailors aboard the ship in

dragged the sea-eyed