Daily Times

The sea of Oleysius is wine-drunk at the 25th hour of day and the sky, a hue of deep crimsons. A streak of violet slashes its way across the horizon as Sylera’s fiery locks begin to surface from the water, their ends dripping iridescence. Her skin is a canvas of sickly blue scales with hints of green. She has been in the water for too long this time. She, who is a dweller of the underworld, mistress to the tide and admiral to all. Her body is unclothed and her naked self feels no shame in approaching the world undressed for she knows none.

Her rough surfaces explore the texture of sand under her feet and immediately find it repulsive, but she knows better than to let appearances guide her. She sees light further down the beach and gravitates towards it.

******

Tobias sits at the Sailors Inn, a wretched drunken mess. He whimpers slow somethings while the lewd men around him channel their inner demons, whiskey and lemons in uninterrupted gulps. Everybody knows Tobias, he is a local tragedy. A pathetic old soul, debtor of the highest order, and although everybody thinks he is a widower, it is a lie. Tobias is a leftover. A young spark from Southern California in short sun dresses and big hats ate him for breakfast, lunch and dinner until he was hollow and then moved on to her next victim. He has heard rumours throughout the years, ranging from “she went nowhere” to “everywhere.” He doesn’t care much for any of it, as he is always busy wallowing in self-pity.

Tobias sits at the Sailors Inn, a wretched drunken mess. He whimpers incoherently while the lewd men around him channel their inner demons, whiskey and lemons in uninterrupted gulps. Everybody knows Tobias, he is a local tragedy. A pathetic old soul, debtor of the highest order, and although everybody thinks he is a widower, it is a lie

“Tobias, Tobias, Tobias,” hammers the bartender. “Get yourself a good woman, yer lil boy needs action. That’s why you’re so fucking miserable. Bang, Shoot, Scoot, that’s what it’s all about lad!”

The bartender gets an audience of “hell yeas” and applause for making the statement every man ever dreams of. Tobias kindly nods, recognises it’s his cue to leave and gets up, but then he sees her.

******

There is no gentle way to process this, is his first thought. He immediately fears for her. She seems to be dripping chunks of glittery madness, the drunkards start to let out low moans as soon as their visions reach her. She seems as unfazed as a woman of her markings ought to be. She does not hesitate for a second, picks her feet up lightly and steps into the warm light of the Inn. There are no clothes on her, but scales run across her body in patterns that mimic an exterior of sorts. She turns her head to the left and opens her mouth ever so slightly with a soft “oh.”

The men respond in trance-like movements mirroring her.

To the left with an “oh.”

To the right with a “hmm.”

This scares Tobias, for he cannot seem to follow this bidding. He is edging his way towards the door to his left when she lifts her eyes directly into his and tugs him towards an undeniable familiarity. He realises, she is as entitled in this moment to leave as he is, but she has to stay despite what awaits her. He makes his choice.

By now the men with whiskey on their breath and a few drizzles of it down their chin have pissed themselves into an excitement too hard to unravel. They swarm around her, sniff her down to the ground like hounds, yet she is as poised as ever. She closes her eyes now and lets out a soft hum; it reverberates through the damp, ill lit and foul smelling Inn as if flagging it with a warning. Like all men, these too choose to ignore the warning signs and proceed forward. Soon enough, there is no her, there is only them; on her, above her and underneath her. Tobias cannot watch this, in his head he calls out to this mermaid like creature and begs her to stop. He doesn’t know what he is expecting in response, but it is definitely not this; he becomes her. He is her in the violation, struggle and pain. He is her in being stripped of choices.

******

He awakens amidst the cold, dull thuds of water. There is sand in his throat, so he cannot speak. He does not want to speak, he thinks. He wants to scream. He can still hear the sound of silk ripping in his body, in her body. He jolts himself into a sitting position and feels as if there is ice blanketing its way into the fire of his blood, lulling it to sleep.

“I hate this grain, this sand, underneath my feet,” she interrupts his thoughts and lies down next to where he is seated.

The ground around her sinks into a cavity, in response to the weight of her burden. Tobias can see no injury, but he can tell her wounds are internal. He does not know how to respond, he does not know where he is or how he got here. He just knows that her pain is greater than his. A rude awakening, yes, that is what it is. He instantly feels ashamed at his previous sense of entitlement to being a lone, miserable fool and dispelling the sentiments of those around him. He lets his head drop into his hands and begins to sob uncontrollably.

He sobs for a second and a century, then some more till he becomes alert to the air starting to shake with hysteria. She laughs, pointing a finger at him in accusation and the last words he hears before passing out are, “What are you crying about? You’re pathetic.”

******

Tobias dwindles in and out of consciousness at Sylera’s mercy. He opens his eyes only to realise that he is too weary to question the predicament he is in. He looks at her in the blue hues of the ocean and night sky; under the shadow of the moon she has transformed into something vile and intense. He is only starting to memorise her face, when she pushes him into the water without warning. He hasn’t had time to take a deep breath, so he gulps a mouthful as soon as it hits. The water weaves around him, flowing in and out of his form.

He wonders if the water in his lungs doesn’t kill him, the lack of oxygen definitely will. As he delves on this thought, he hears the faint whisper of waltz music and the ripples of brackish water around him wake up to dance. Droplets swerve, then bend as if subdued and take flight. Slightly larger orbs of glowing magnificence replace them for a second, remain static and then dissolve. The ocean seems to be building and breaking itself. Amidst the circle of life, Sylera appears. She nudges Tobias towards herself, shows him her waist and rests his hands on it. In this moment, they dance eternal, suspended in the afterglow of the ocean even as Tobias starts to choke. His eyes bulge, but his screams are muffled, his hands are stuck. She will not permit him dignity in suffering, but as the light of life starts to leave him, she commands it stop.

Her webbed fingers dance, her arms extend, and she twirls her wrist as if casting a spell. She opens her mouth and lets Tobias’s screams find an escape through her. Sylera watches Tobias intently, places her fingers firmly across his mouth and enjoys the surprise in his eyes as he experiences relief when he least expects it. She lets him breathe out a faint “why?”, before she takes him back to shore.

******

This is the first chapter of a four-part story, which will be continued in next Thursday’s edition.

The author is a law graduate and an aspiring novelist who enjoys her coffee a little too much. She can be reached at nayyabsarwar@gmail.com and blogs at instagram.com/nayyab.writes

Published in Daily Times, March 1^st 2018.