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    Three Mermaid Tales
    Three Mermaid Tales
    Three Mermaid Tales
    Ebook113 pages1 hour

    Three Mermaid Tales

    By Anne Seaworthy

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    About this ebook

    In "The Red Siren," travel back in time to the island of Mystycetii in the days when mermaids ate oysters and were ruled by a mer-king. Follow the journey of the naturalist Dove as he attempts to fall in love with his betrothed, Rowynne, and comes crashing down hard for a local mermaid. Then, fast-forward to the present for "Ocean Girl," the story of a mermaid named Luna who wants to win a human dance contest - will she get up after her fall from the spotlight? Finally, jump into the near future with "People with Fishtails," the tale of two landlubbers who find themselves on an environmental pirate ship. Gayle is searching for her mother, whom she believes to be a mermaid ,while Sander is on the lookout for unusual marine specimens. Neither of the two knows they're also looking for love...
    Enjoy a journey through the ages with these three tales of mermaids!

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAnne Seaworthy
    Release dateAug 10, 2015
    ISBN9781310329791
    Three Mermaid Tales
    Author

    Anne Seaworthy

    Anne Seaworthy grew up in a quaint little beachside town called Santa Monica. She has been writing since she was old enough to hold a pencil. When she's not writing, she enjoys passing the time with her cat, Artemis, doing nail art, and baking.

    Read more from Anne Seaworthy

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      Book preview

      Three Mermaid Tales - Anne Seaworthy

      Chapter One

      Dove stared at the seahorses in the glass tank on his desk. With their tails intertwined, they circled together for several minutes. Then the female, identifiable by her pointy abdominal area, deposited her eggs in a pouch on the male’s abdomen.

      Interesting, Dove remarked, scribbling in his naturalist’s notebook. The male carries the eggs – at least in this species.

      Rowynne entered cautiously. She hovered over his shoulder.

      He reached up to touch her hand in greeting. It was a very nice hand, small and soft and white. His own hands were soft and quite pale as well, but that was likely to change over the course of this voyage.

      Dove was on a mission for Rowynne’s first cousin once removed, King Charles of England. They were to explore the new island his majesty had bought from Ecuador, setting up a colony and, in Dove’s case, noting the wildlife of the land, anything useful that might profit England in some way. He was to return with a case full of specimens.

      Meanwhile, Dove was on another mission – to impress Rowynne. The two were already betrothed, since Dove’s father was a prominent baron and His Majesty the king needed to get the girl off his hands as soon as possible. Therefore, on this mission Dove was determined to show the young lady that he was a specimen worth marrying, to ensure their marriage would run smoothly.

      He rose and pointed to the seahorses, saying, These two are displaying unusual mating behaviors for such simple-minded beasts. After an extended courtship display, the female gives her eggs to the male. I wonder how that would work in human society?

      Rowynne shook her head in disgust. If I may say so, I don’t believe it would work at all. Men aren’t built to care for children – it’s women’s work. She didn’t say what she was thinking: a man would let the child die rather than belittle himself to care for it.

      Land ho! cried Adamson, the first mate.

      Dove ran upstairs, Rowynne following close behind. In the distance, a patch of land was visible, covered with lush rainforest.

      Mystycetii, breathed Gaines, using the Ecuadorian name for the place the king had named King Charles Island. Soon I’ll have those trees chopped down to make way for a big, fat gov’nor’s palace, I shall!

      And I’ll be fryin’ potatoes in yer front yard, proclaimed Kaelan, the plump Irishman. Are ye fond of potatoes, m’lady? He elbowed Rowynne.

      Keep your sticky elbows off my fiancée! protested Dove weakly.

      All right, there’s no need to get yer panties in a bunch –

      Break it up, fellows, Randolph suggested, smoothly nicking the golden good-luck bracelet from Kaelan’s wrist and slipping it into the pouch at his trousers. We’ve all been at sea together too long…

      Ye can’t be at sea too long, never! Captain Hildebrand interjected from the helm. Nevertheless, we’s about to be leavin’ it for dry land. So be grateful, landlubbers.

      ~~~

      The captain helped Rowynne off the vessel, ignoring Dove’s grunts of protest. Hildebrand dropped her hand, and then proceeded to unsheathe his machete. Come on, fellas, he scowled. Time to cut our way to camp. They were to set up their colony in the center of the island, by a river the Ecuadorians called the Mystic Lady, or "La Señora Mística. "

      Dove wandered away from the others and began inspecting a short tree with a curving trunk and interesting-shaped leaves. It began leaning, then it tumbled before his eyes as Captain Hildebrand chopped it down to make way for the crew.

      Kaelan clapped his hands in simple approval.

      Off the new settlers bounded into the forest like a troop of chattering monkeys, with Dove bringing up the rear and bearing a disapproving frown. Something didn’t feel right about cutting into this forest… it was like stabbing one’s knife into the shoulder of a beast with razor-sharp teeth.

      Chapter Two

      One month had passed on Mystycetii. While the other men cut down trees to build more houses and taverns for the host of people set to arrive in the fall, Dove spent his days following the river, drawing detailed illustrations of the flora and fauna he saw. While the others were busy crushing lizards under their feet and chopping down flowery vines, Dove was collecting precious specimens of these to bring back to England. He feared there would be no wild examples left by his departure if things kept going at this rate.

      One early morning, he followed a strange-looking frog down the river to the sea. Having lost track of the frog, he was about to turn back when he heard the most melodious woman's voice, singing like a faun's flute.

      My lover is a sailor, he's bound to sail away, but like a fish in a fisherman's net, I'll catch him and he'll stay.

      Dove's head whipped around, and the sound pulled him towards the tantalizing ice-blue waves. Standing at the shore, he could just make out the silhouette of a rock in the distance.

      A lady perched on the rock, head tilted to one side as if brushing her hair. The brushing stopped, and the woman darted off the rock and into the water.

      Miss! Dove called across the ocean. Are you all right? Miss?

      No sputtering head came up - the woman must be drowning.

      Dove thought of running back to camp and getting Randolph or Gaines - but there was no time for that. So he ripped off his vest and shirt, ran up a cliff overhanging the rock where the woman had sat, and dove in after her. When he saw her underwater, gaping at him curiously, perfectly calm and not at all in mortal danger, it was he whose head broke the surface, spewing water out of a shocked mouth.

      He hadn't seen that. It was physiologically impossible.

      To prove it to himself, he ducked his head under again and forced his eyes open in the salty water. There she was again: a buxom girl with blond hair flowing around her shoulders and a ruby-red fishtail extending from her hips to where her toes should be.

      Dove cried out in fear since these creatures were known to drag men to their deaths. As he began kicking and trying to propel himself toward the shore, he ruminated on the fact that educated men did not believe these creatures to exist.

      When he felt a hand firmly grabbing his foot, a bubbly shriek issued from Dove's mouth.

      A soothing voice cooed, Don't be scared. Stay and dance with us.

      Us? Dove inquired, trembling.

      My friends and me. Releasing Dove's foot, the mermaid swan-dived beneath the surface.

      Dove looked underwater to see a circle of dolphins with playful smiles on their sleek faces.

      The mermaid barrel-rolled through the circle like a thread entering the eye of a needle. The dolphins whirled and swirled around her. She began singing again, this time in a language Dove didn't know, a language of clicks and squeals and words that sounded like they were being played on a beautiful viola da gamba, rather than spoken by a beautiful red mouth.

      Dove

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