by Hal Bodner
***
The Prince opened his eyes to blinding daylight. He had passed out sometime during the night. Gentle waves lapped at his fingertips. The sun shone bright and hot overhead and his skin burned from the heat.
The Prince raised his aching head and examined the sea. There were few traces of his ship floating in the water around him: wooden planks, barrels, and some articles of clothing. Without food or water, he would not last alone on the open sea. The Prince wanted to cry through his dry lips and hoped death would be as painless as passing into sleep.
But then something caught his eyes on the horizon.
He stared intently at the grey shape off in the distance. The longer he stared, the more excited he became. Small black dots circled the grey shape: Birds. Land! The Prince closed his eyes and thanked God for his good fortune. The distance did not seem great; he figured he had enough strength left to paddle his way over. His movements were slow and controlled; he did not want to pass out before reaching land.
After some time of treading water on his pitiful raft, the Prince arrived at the strip of jagged rocks sticking out of the ocean like a row of deformed teeth. The rocks were uninviting, but the hovering seagulls encouraged the Prince. The birds must have been circling some food source and, hopefully, a source of fresh water. As the Prince paddled, though, he thought he heard someone calling his name. He dismissed the sound as a product of his imagination and moved on.
Exhaustion swept over the Prince as he paddled into the small cove. He dragged his tired body off the wooden planks and into the shade, sighing in relief at the touch of land. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep before hunting for breakfast. After a few moments, the sound of someone calling his name reached his ears again. He tried to ignore it, but then the voice became louder and more desperate. Someone was calling his name!
The Prince sat up in the cove and looked out to sea. A young man approached from the direction of the lost ship with one arm wrapped around a plank of wood while using the other to tread water. The Prince’s heart swelled as he recognized the cabin boy.
“It’s about time you turned around, your grace,” said the smiling cabin boy. “I feared losing my voice before you noticed.”
“Forgive me, but I believed my ears were fooling me!”
The Prince waved to the young man and stood, beckoning him to come closer.
“There is enough room for both of us on this miserable rock.”
The cabin boy obliged and paddled closer. Clean shaven and with big brown eyes, the boy was perhaps sixteen or seventeen years of age. The smile eroded from the boy’s face.
“Is there any chance of a rescue? I don’t want to die out here. I want to see my family again.”
“Many traders come through this part of the sea. One is sure to come by soon and spot us. Come. Let us rest a moment before we catch one of those flying rodents for dinner.”
“That sounds splendid, your grace.”
The cabin boy let go of his planks and swam for the edge of the cove.
A dark shape appeared in the water behind him.
The Prince stared. He feared a shark had followed the boy and was about to warm him, but he choked at what broke the surface of the water.
It was not a shark, but a girl. Her skin had a milky texture to it and she had long blonde hair streaking behind her. She seemed to be slightly younger than the cabin boy. For a moment the Prince was dumbstruck by this unexpected beauty. There were a few families on deck with young children, but he did not remember her.
The girl reached her hands out of the water. Her fingers were very slender and immaculate. She grabbed the cabin boy’s neck and snapped it with an audible crack. The Prince screamed. Her teeth were rows upon rows of tiny poniards sinking into the cabin boy’s exposed flesh. Blood fountained and turned the waters black. The Prince pressed his back against the rock and stared as the girl chewed and swallowed chunks of flesh.
Filled with revulsion and terror, the Prince tore his gaze away and saw he could climb out of the cove on a wall to his right. He scrambled up the wall while listening to the disgusting slurping and smacking of the girl’s lips over the splashing water.
The Prince made his way to the top. He stood on top of the small, rocky outcropping in the middle of the ocean. Except for the cove he just left, there was no other cover from the sun, but roasting on this barren rock was the last thing on his mind. A putrid stench was in the air, coming from somewhere close by. Seagulls circled overhead and congregated on the other end of the island. They dove at something behind a large rock. He slowly made his way across the island and peered around the large rock.
A decomposing body lounged against the rock. The seagulls landed and pecked at the strands of flesh hanging off of the bones. The skull was picked clean by scavengers long ago. Empty eye sockets stared at the Prince, who backed away in disgust.
“Drown with me.”
He spun around and spotted her bobbing in the water. Her lower half was that of a large fish. The Prince gasped. Never in his wildest dreams did he believe these creatures to exist. Or be so gruesome. Her pale, human breasts and green scales were soaked in gore, but she smiled up at him as if she were an old friend.
“Get away from me!” The Prince shouted.
The mermaid laughed. Her voice rang cold and hollow.
“And where would I go? The sea is my home and you are my guest.”
The mermaid ran her tongue across her bloody fangs. “I will delight in sucking the marrow from your bones.”
“To hell with you!” The Prince backed away. “You will not have me!”
The mermaid laughed again. She playfully splashed the water with her hands and fin.
“How long do you think you will last without water? It won’t be long until you go mad with thirst. Sooner or later you will come crawling to the edge and bring your lips to the ocean. I will be waiting with open arms when you do.”
She dove under the water and vanished, leaving the Prince shaking and sweating under the burning sun.
***
“This has to be a dream.”
The Prince cradled his head in his hands as he spoke to himself. He returned to the cove to keep away from the sun, which was now lower in the sky. It had only been a few hours since the mermaid killed the cabin boy, but to the Prince it felt like years. From time to time the Prince thought he witnessed cruel eyes staring at him from underneath the surface or a dark shape skirting the edges of the island.
He sighed and contemplated the cruel irony surrounding him: water everywhere, but not a drop to drink. Would just a small taste be so terrible? Just one little sip … no! The Prince slapped himself. He needed to take his mind away from the raging thirst. The Prince got back on his feet and climbed out of the cove. The seagulls, now fat and content off of the corpse, were huddled together on the large rock. Powerless about his thirst, the Prince set out to satisfy his hunger.
Crawling on his belly, the Prince moved slowly and took care not to make any noise. The seagulls twitched their heads this way and that, but did not seem to notice his approach. Some flapped their wings and shot into the sky. The Prince went still and feared they would all fly away, but a few settled back down. He continued to crawl.
The Prince approached close enough to be within arm’s reach of one seagull. He waited. The seagull turned its head towards him and raised its wings. His hands shot out and grasped the small neck. The animal made a terrible noise that scared away the other seagulls, but went silent when the Prince crushed its bones.
He returned to the cove with his kill. He was disgusted at first. His stomach developed a taste for the smoked meats and sweet pastries of the palace cooks. This dead thing in his hands smelled awful and possessed little meat. He remembered the horrifying image of the mermaid devouring the poor cabin boy and shuddered.
Once again the primal urge for survival took over his cultured sensibilities. He plucked out the feathers and, after a moment’s hesitation, took a bite. The
meat was tough and tasted as awful as it smelled. He fought back the urge to vomit as every morsel was a struggle to swallow and keep down.
He ate until there was nothing but bones and feathers. It was the worst thing he had ever eaten, but he knew it would keep him alive. He climbed back across the island rocks and reexamined the corpse. Pirate cloth and regalia hung from the bones, which had some flesh the seagulls had missed; the Prince wondered if he would have to eat the remainder.
The Prince found a flintlock pistol lying between some rocks close to the skeletal remains of the right hand. The pistol was useless without shot or powder and he imagined clubbing the mermaid to death would be an exercise in futility. He then searched through the pockets and found a dull dagger. There was also a hole in the left temple of the skull. This must have been the remains of a marooned pirate who took his own life; the Prince regretted his death would not be as quick.
Death? The Prince shuddered. Yes, death seemed likely, so why fight it? He could sharpen the dagger on the rocks and slice his veins to deny the monster her pleasure. Yet the voice of survival screamed against that option. He prayed his people would send a ship to search for him soon.
The Prince found a smooth rock and began to sharpen it alongside the dull edge of the dagger; he had to be ready just in case.
***
While the day was unbearably hot, the night was absolutely freezing. Sleep eluded the Prince. His chattering teeth kept him awake and he feared rolling off the rocks in his sleep and waking up inside the mermaid’s stomach. A crescent moon hung in the sky and the stars seemed dim and weak. Blackness surrounded him. His only company was the sound of the ocean and the image of the mermaid’s fangs rising from the water.
He sat with his back against the large rock with the pirate skeleton resting on the other side. He did not trust himself to fall asleep and kept the edge of the blade close to the tip of his thumb. Whenever his body slacked, the pain shocked him back to consciousness. During this time his parched mouth raged for thirst. His lips and tongue were dried husks and felt as rough as sand. The splashing of the salt water against his skin made him yearn for a sip of something wet, but he knew to do so would invite death.
The dawn came with explosive colors of pink and red over the blue sea; the Prince wished he could admire the dawn from the comfort of the palace. He stood, but his back and neck were stiff from the sleepless night.
He scanned the horizon for signs of a sail. Aside from sharpening the dagger, it was the only thing he could do to keep his mind off of the creeping madness. Hours passed. The sun rose higher and the unbearable heat returned. Once he saw something white treading the horizon and believed it to be a sail, but it was only a puff of clouds. By midday there was still no sign of ship or sail.
The ocean tempted him. So much water, yet a few mouthfuls would kill him if the mermaid didn’t get him first. He wondered if the creature was still out there. If it was hungry, wouldn’t the cabin boy be enough to satisfy? Perhaps it took pleasure in tormenting him for a while, but then grew bored and swam away. The Prince took a chance and peered over the rocks and into the ocean. Nothing. Maybe it did go away. As he stared at the water his head involuntarily leaned closer and closer. The water seduced him. So what of the salt? It appeared safe enough. Just one sip, that’s all.
Her face rushed up from the depths just before his lips touched the surface. The Prince leapt back from the edge just as she emerged. She carried a polished skull in her delicate hands.
“Your friend is waiting for you to join him!”
She tossed the skull at the Prince’s feet and laughed. Her cold, hollow voice rang through the air as she circled the island before vanishing below the waves again.
***
“She will not have me.”
The Prince moved the smooth rock against the dagger. Sunlight glimmered off the edge. The tip was still dull, but given enough time it would be sharp again. He had lost track of time since the mermaid last taunted him. Was it one day or two? He was no longer sure. A brief storm passed by the island and it rained. The Prince opened his mouth and drank, but the raging thirst returned and he did not believe he would have the good fortune of seeing another storm for some time. His clothes were now torn and drooping from his emaciated limbs. An unruly beard sprouted from his chin and his hair, once clean and in military style, now hung by his ears in long, greasy curls.
“She will not have me.”
He sharpened the blade as the sun crawled across the sky. The meat hanging from the pirate’s skeleton tasted pitiful and chewy, but it satisfied his hunger for a while. From time to time he searched the horizon for sails. He soon lost interest in the empty horizon and turned all of his attention to the dagger. It was the only man-made thing on the island he had an intimate relationship with. The madness of thirst and crushing loneliness squeezed him like a vice and sharpening the dagger was the only thing that could keep him sane. He marveled at the simple dagger, even though the royal armory had much more magnificent blades and weapons stored in their vaults. Every crack and notch seemed like a subtle stroke of genius on a portrait.
“You are my salvation or my destruction,” he said out loud. The Prince knew it understood him.
“When I was a boy, my grandfather taught me everything he knew about the sea.”
The sun glimmered off the edge. Go on, the Dagger said. Tell me more.
“He told me the sea was a living thing that did not care if you lived or died. The prudent sailor must always be prepared for the dangers of the sea. There is a price to pay if one is not prepared.”
The Prince stopped sharpening for a moment. A strange sound came out of his throat, like a mix between a laugh and a cry.
“You always believed they existed, poppa. What would you say now? Is this the price of the sea you always warned me about?”
He ran the smooth rock against the dagger too hard and accidently nicked the edge.
“Damn. Apologies, friend. Allow me to correct my error.”
***
The sea seemed as smooth as glass on that windless day. For a moment, the Prince believed he could walk home. He saw his reflection in the still water. He did not recognize the hairy, gangly creature with the wild eyes staring back at him. He clenched a dagger in his right hand. Where did he get it? A present from a loved one or did he purchase it from one of the shops lining the road to the marble palace?
He bent down to one knee and hid the dagger behind his back. There was so much water, and he was so thirsty.
The face of a pretty girl peered up at him from underneath the surface. She rose and her nose almost touched his. He wondered if his ragged features and unkempt hair offended her. Poppa always told him to shave and be presentable when in the presence of a lady.
“I have waited too long,” she said. “Now you are mine.”
She wrapped her smooth, soft arms around his neck. Ah, too long since he last received the warm embrace of another human being. She pulled him downwards. He lost his footing and the ocean rushed towards him. Her mouth opened to reveal rows of shark-like teeth and a long, forked tongue. He remembered the time he caught his first fish with his poppa at one of the rivers in the countryside. Poppa handed him a dagger and showed him how to remove the scales and guts. They ate fish soup with bread that evening.
***
The Captain of the merchant vessel raised the eyeglass and studied the horizon. Pirates were known to roam this part of the sea. He and his crew were on high alert, keeping their weapons ready and their eyes open. One of his officers approached.
“Yes?”
“We spotted a small island off the starboard bow. There is a body.”
“Alive or dead?”
“Hard to tell from this distance. Could be a member of the missing Royal Barge.”
“Very good. Let’s swing her around and investigate. Be on guard, though. Best be prepared for anything.”
The sailors ran across the deck and guided the ship with mechanica
l efficiency. Cannons and swords were readied in the event of a pirate ambush. Closer and closer they approached the island. The Captain ordered the ship to drop anchor before they got too close. They lowered a small row boat into the water with a search party including the captain and a handful of armed men. They rowed to the island and into a small cove.
“There’s blood in the air, lads,” The Captain said. “Be on your guard.”
One by one the sailors and Captain climbed out of the cove and onto the surface. They climbed over the uneven rocks and reached the opposite end of the island. No one said a word. The Captain stared and felt revulsion crawl up his spine.
Bones and large fish scales littered the rocks. A naked man with greasy and disheveled hair sat cross legged against the largest rock. Sun burnt skin hung from the frame of a rail thin body. Dried blood streaked across the man’s face and shoulders like primitive war paint. When he brought his eyes up to the Captain and his crew, they appeared glazed and wild.
“They are not like us,” the naked man said. “Their bodies are different. Extra organs. I recognized two hearts, but the rest I could not determine. Like this, for instance.”
The man raised his hands from his lap. He held up a green, fleshy thing and smiled.
“I do not know why they need it, but it holds water. Sweet water! Not salty.”
He laughed.
“Poppa always told me the sea had a price, but this time I refused to pay. This time I exacted my own price!”
The crazed man laughed and laughed under the burning sun.
About the Author
David Matteri is an author living in Northern California. When he is not writing or getting lost in used book stores, he is studying to become a high school English teacher. His short fiction has appeared in SNM Horror magazine, From the Depths, Confettifall, and The Midnight Diner.