A man, appearing no more than in his early twenties, sat at an old style desk that had seen far better years yet had been beautifully maintained over the centuries. The feather quill pen sat in the inkwell as he stared at the blank page. Breathing deep he shook himself and took up the quill as one takes up a sword, placing pen to page he began to write...

My name is Col, I am twelve years old, still a boy, even if I am expected to act like a man. My father was the captain of a merchantman, sailing out of Bermuda, trading with the Americans for goods and acting as a passenger ship now and again. That, however, was not the deck I was standing on now. Now I am standing in chains, on a ship with black sails, flying a black flag with a skull and crossed swords as its emblem. I still remember the flames burning. The sound of cannons briefly drowning the cries of men at battle. The horrid choking smoke becoming its own fog of war, creating terror and madness. Then they came, like howling demons from the shroud of death to fire their pistols and chop with heavy bladed cutlasses, cutting my father’s men down, mercilessly, whilst I stood transfixed in the tumult, unable to move my body, paralyzed by fear. Through it all, I could hear my father shouting orders to his men, somehow managing to seem calm and in control, even as the boarders came screaming their rage and lust for blood and gold.

Col sat back from the page he was writing upon, remembering with crystalline clarity the day his world had come apart in fire and smoke. The pirates were merciless, but even they paled in comparison to their captain. Those men were paragons of virtue compared to him. Even now Col’s hands trembled with burgeoning rage and more than a little fear. He forced the memory to play on, unrelenting in his self-appointed task to tell his story to a world that didn’t care, and no longer even remembered that he or his family existed. Placing pen to page once more he continued to chronicle his tale with painful and heartrending accuracy.

I shook my head violently to clear the vision of blood and horror from my mind’s eye. As I looked about, I saw men whose faces I didn’t know wearing clothes, baggy and strange, yet suitable to the Caribbean climate. Many went without shirts, proudly displaying scars and tattoos like works of art in a gallery. I turned my head to the helmsman as he stood braced against the wheel, staring back at me. "Seeing it all again, aren’t ya, lad?" he said.

I refused to answer the stocky helmsman and was backhanded for the offense. "Remember what is won in battle is sacred lad. You are ours now, a son of a gun. Isn’t that right, Cap?" The captain turned his attention from the sea ahead to his helmsman. "Right you are." The captain said in a voice without emotion. He droned on in that monotone voice like a man devoid of passions or soul. "Heading west southwest, we make port at Nassau. Boy, enter my cabin and wait for me there." The Captain’s eyes bore into my skull as the memory of him killing Father blazed across my mind.

My face never changed, but I knew he saw my memory as if he were in my head. I bowed to him again, saying nothing, and backed away, dragging the ball and chain shackled to my ankle. There was no escape for me. It had been days since my capture, with an endless procession of them to come. I wondered if the captain would rape me again this time, or merely place me in a dress and demand I dance and sing for him. Even drunk, the man was empty of emotion. Even as he was raping me, he showed nothing. The man must be a corpse walking, one of these zombies the native priests and priestesses speak of making.

It was a short walk to the cabin. I opened the heavy door with some effort. Inside the cabin was sparsely appointed, a solid redwood desk with a matching chair dominated the center of the room, seeming to be carved of one piece. The only other furniture in the room was a four-poster bed, a terrifying thing with horrific carvings of beasts devouring men and men in agony being tortured. Windows ran from floor to ceiling at the back of the room, leading out to the stern walk. I walked over to the window and pushed it open to let fresh air into the room, and stepped outside to lean on the railing. Listening to the sounds of a ship at sea, I tried to calm my rapidly beating heart.

I feared this man, this being, with all my soul. Glimpsing down at my ball and chain, I looked at it in despair. I couldn’t jump overboard and swim, the iron ball, even though small, was easily enough to sink me into the depths and drown me in short order. I couldn’t flee, and staying would kill my soul, surely as the water would be my fleshly grave. What would Father do? What should I do? If I jump, I am damned as a suicide. if I stay, I am in a hell that I cannot escape, as I descend into madness.

Something flashed out in the distant waves. Indistinct, but clearly not the sun on the softly rolling waves. The door creaked open, and my heart died even as it beat all the faster, trying to flee my chest and save itself. "You have not the courage to jump, Boy. Come, sit the bed while I write up the log." The Captain’s voice tolled like the bells of hell signifying another soul lost to its flames and torment.

I obediently lowered my eyes and sat on the mouth of hell, refusing to look at the poor souls around me, frozen in the wood, staring and crying for reprieve and death, only to be granted more of their suffering everywhere one set their eyes. The sheets were soft satin and silk, the color of blood as it spills from a wound. I pulled my mind away from my body, a thing I had been learning though the horror of the past few days. My body would be left behind, and I could see the mysteries of the ocean and the world. It was all a dream, and it was mine to control. From the Taj Mahal in India, the Louvre in Paris, the mermaid that followed the ship where my body lay, as the Soulless One desecrated it, repeatedly. No matter what the captain did, the body wouldn’t react and no matter how much my body told me I was in danger of dying, I wouldn’t return till the captain slept.

This tragedy repeated itself day after day, and each day I would stare out at the water from the stern walk and see the iridescent shimmer that was more and more clearly not the ocean, but something else, only to see a mermaid in my dream-like walk from my body.

I couldn’t tell how long it was before the captain told me to stay in his cabin, instead of being on deck, standing beside him and the helmsman. For a while now, I saw another ship in my dream walks, a large Man of War of the British empire. It descended slowly upon this ship, stalking it like the jungle cats of India. Why would I only now dream of someone coming to my rescue? Everything I was has been lost in the fire of battle and the drowning depths of Hell.

I still wore the ball and chain, but its weight mattered little to me now. It would still drown me if I jumped. I stood from the bed and walked to the stern walk once again, staring out at the sea, looking for the shimmer that had, in a way, become a comfort for me, these endless days and nights of decay and death of my soul. A faint sound of thunder echoed from a cloudless and sunlit sky. The wind was calm and barely stirred, the waves small and gentle, rocking the ship as a mother would a child. Feeling a deep welling of sadness as I searched the gentle waves, I saw nothing of the iridescence that I had come to enjoy. I realized that now everything was finally taken, even this fleeting comfort that, in my dreams, was a mermaid. No more would I see her body glide though the water, with a grace that was breathtaking, more so than anything else I had seen in my dream walks. I leaned heavily on the railing, crying my boyish tears, as I wept for my soul. Even in this new despair, I heard the booming thunder draw closer. Suddenly, the ships cannons fired, and fresh new terror engulfed me, ripping at my soul like the teeth of some kraken from the deep, and clawed at my mind like some vengeful bird of prey.

I tried desperately to flee into my dream walk, but found nothing. I couldn’t leave, I realized the immensity of the death that was coming for my soul. I would become as the Captain, in due time, unable to feel anything. For now, I still felt the terror like a torrent inside, unabating and growing fiercer with every boom of the cannons. With the echoing booms of thunder that grew ever closer. The fog of gun smoke rolled past the stern walk in fresh batches, every few moments. Choking and coughing, I leaned harder against the rail. I felt my legs beginning to give out underneath me, as I shook violently.

I heard a faint snapping and cackling in the back of my fear-addled mind. My eyes regained focus as I looked at my hands and saw wood splintering underneath. Every feeling and emotion fled in an instant as I watched the rail collapse under my frail weight. Moments that drifted by in measurements of eternities. Then stretched infinitely further, heartbeats lasted the creation and deaths of stars. With unblinking eyes, full of acceptance, I glanced at the waters that would become my grave, and saw for the first time the face of the wondrous creature of myth and legend.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The mermaid swam below me in my eternal tumble, her arms lithe with long elegant fingers, webbed together by a thin skin, her shoulders delicate, the features of her face fine and exotic with eyes the color of burnished silver; her hair matching it, as it flowed out behind her like a magnificent dress for a ball. Her skin was white as the snow, unblemished and sleek, it shined with the water streaming off. My eyes saw her lips move, and though I heard no sound, my mind knew her silken voice, "Come to me, child of woe. Lay down this burden and be free." Her voice soothed me, beyond reason. I knew this to be a figment, a dream of pleasantness, rather than face alone the horror of drowning. Still I felt such calm that time once again grew lively and, amidst the sound and fury of battle, I hit the cold waters of the Atlantic and fell into unconsciousness.

Somehow, in the darkness of my mind I saw her, the mermaid. She sat beside me while holding my hand. I stood beside myself in a room that seemed like glass with light emanating from a smooth floor with the look of ivory and mother of pearl swirled together, creating a lighting that rippled like the waves of the ocean. I watched the mermaid with fascination, her hair ran in a multitude of long braids that surrounded her sitting form almost like a dress.

I was embarrassed to notice she was otherwise unclothed, and felt awkward not knowing if it was more like a man to look away, or continue looking as if nothing was out of the ordinary. A memory of my father drifted up to me from my buried memories. "Son, even if something shocks the good lord out of you, an officer and a gentleman never shows it, he reacts with grace and dignity. Think and act as one, you’ll be there sooner than most." I had no idea what my father had meant, so I shrugged and watched her still. I noticed, with surprise, that she had long graceful legs like a dancer might, with elegant feet. I wondered, idly, where her fish half had swum off to.

"We can walk or swim as we choose Col. It didn’t swim off, rather I walked it off, so to speak." Again, her voice sounded in my head, but this time I clearly saw that her lips had not moved. This was the most fascinating dream I had had yet. "This isn’t a dream Col, though I might blush that you see me so wondrous, as to be a part of one."

My mind was stunned into silence. How could this possibly be real? I know I am dreaming; I am dreaming one last time as I drown in the water far from home, as I hope and pray that Captain dies a permanent death. "You should never wish death or harm on another, Col"

WHY NOT! My thoughts roared, in my soft boyish voice. He took everything from me. EVERYTHING! I HOPE HE DIES A VIOLENT DEATH. A thousand times would never be enough to repent for the murder and rape he has done, least of all to me.

The mermaid beside my body reached out and held my physical hand. I could feel its warmth even as I was in this dream walk. I saw her as she shed tears like quicksilver, they streamed from her in a trickle, then a flood as she sobbed silently. "Child of woe, you who have suffered such depravity should never wish to have it passed on to another, no matter who it is. If you passed it on to another and that one to another, where would it end, but the whole of your people drowning as you have, as you are."

I felt tears in my own eyes, ashamed of making her cry and ashamed of myself. I was also afraid of myself, for as I looked into my soul, that I thought lost, I could see the hardness of it ready to break and crumble and knew, then, how the captain had lost his soul.

"He didn’t lose it Col, though he is in danger of it. He was forced down the path he was forcing you, by his own father no less. Feel mercy Col, he never had the love you did from his family" I realized at last that this was truly not a dream, I never had dreamed. My mind had walked from my body to save myself and to let myself experience wonders beyond imagining. I thought back to the first time, seeing the shimmer that wasn’t the ocean. "You are correct Col, I followed you from the moment you were taken, having felt your agony and despair. I was that glimmer of hope in those darkest moments of your life to give you hope." I relaxed and let my mind drift, feeling safe. "You are safe here, Col. Sleep, and we will meet again when you wake." Col shut his mind’s eye and slept a peaceful sleep, not once seeing the mouth of hell or the captain’s face.

I woke, bodily, this time, jerking awake with a start and marveled, seeing everything now with my fleshly eyes. I turned my head to glance upon the mermaid as she slept, her hand still enfolding my own with long graceful fingers. Her skin felt slightly rough and dry, despite that I felt a warmth that radiated from them and flooded my body. I was dressed in a dark green tunic that went down to my knees. It was cinched at the waist with some kind of silvery belt that looked like it was woven, yet liquid. My eyes found the mermaid once more and noticed her hair was the same as the belt, and swiftly noticed the braid that was cut short as it hung over her sleeping face. She was breathing deep and steadily, maybe she was dreaming too. I reached out with my other hand, which had grown thin and almost skeletal in my captivity, and brushed the braid out of her face.

I felt a soft stirring in the air, and could almost swear I heard a soft whisper of thanks. "I wish I knew your name." I said, as I gazed at her beautiful face. While I stared, I could swear I almost heard something. I blushed and then blushed more for blushing, for my heart was racing with a fire and quickness, beating fast as if it wanted to escape me and reach out to her.

The mermaid awoke, laughing softly. It sounded like a bubbling brook or stream. It set my face freshly aflame as I believed her to be laughing at me. "I wouldn’t laugh at you, my dearest Col. The honesty of your feelings overwhelms me with joy. I guess you never heard me, but my name is Telira. I also said thank you for moving my braid, it was beginning to tickle a little bit." Her beautiful voice was no different in the flesh than it was in my mind. I saw her smile, broad and beautiful, showing teeth much like my own, in a genuine smile full of happiness. "I heard that, you, flatterer." She winked. Out of nowhere, my heart fell into sadness. I wondered about my mother, would I ever see her again?

Telira's face fell with my heart, her smile not fading, but reflecting the deep sorrow within. "You won’t see her again, Col. For you can never leave. I chose to save you knowing this would be your fate. Our laws are as our blood, we cannot break them. You will stay until your end or until your people have forgotten us."

I began to cry; my mother was alone, so utterly alone. Father dead, and I might as well be. I was an only child, no sisters or brothers to keep her safe. "You will likely never return to the surface, Col, and while you must accept it, you must also remember that you are gifted beyond measure. You can walk all this earth and the stars if you wish, just like us." I took small comfort in this as I thought of how I will never see the sun, or smell the grass, let alone my mother’s hair, or to see her smile. I wept freely, and felt I had traded one prison for another; in neither case did I have a choice.

"My poor Col, must you only see this from one side? Open yourself to the universe inside. The stars that shine within you. You are only a prisoner in your mind, you are free even though your body is here; nothing can stop you. Not the Captain, and not I." I, still reeling from everything, did as asked, and, in my mind, reached for the universe, whatever that was, inside.

I closed my eyes and felt the warmth of the sun on my face. I opened my eyes and knew I was dream walking and I was on Bermuda. I turned and saw my mother hanging laundry from the lines behind our home. Suddenly, I was directly behind her, and I reached out to hug her, passing through her instead. She seemed to shiver, and glanced around briefly, before returning to her work. She felt me, I knew, even if she didn’t. I felt elation and love at this. "I love you Mother," I whispered, my ephemeral hand brushing her hair. She turned, suddenly, looking around the grassy hill. "Is someone there?" She called. Feeling hope, I knew that in time I would talk to her and be heard. For now, I shut my eyes and returned to my fleshy body. I opened my eyes again to a grinning and tearfully joyous expression on Telira's face, as it hovered over my own. "See how free you are, my sweet Col? See how free we all really are?"

Finished at last, Col dried the ink with sand and replaced the cap on the ink, carefully wiping the nub of the pen on a rag from a drawer in the desk. He rolled up the paper in a tight cylinder, before placing it in a brown glass bottle and capped the cork, firmly. He laughed, slightly, at the old wives tales of messages in bottles, yet here he was making those tales a reality. He felt Telira’s presence behind him, but paid her no mind while he finished his task. He walked over to the barrier of water that separated the dome he was in from the ocean depths, just beyond. Almost forgetting, he walked back to the desk and used a candle’s flame to melt the sealing wax over the cork, coating the head and neck of the bottle, liberally. Content with the seal, he walked promptly back to the barrier and hurled the bottle through. The Ocean current took it immediately, and it was quickly gone from his eyes.

He turned toward Telira and spoke. “It is time I told my story. I will share what it means to be free. There is something coming that even the Captain would drop dead of fright from the sight of it. The World I knew is dead. Pirates are now comical heroes in poorly told tales. Lights fill the sky, and humanity, in all its arrogance, no longer fears the dark. We must return Telira, nothing will stop what is coming. This nexus of time and space is the last of any frail hope there is.”

Telira stood, face growing more and more pale as Col spoke. She could feel his certainty, the truth, of what he was saying. His mind was open to hers, and she saw the horrors he had viewed. Shaken to the foundations of her soul, Telira began to tremble violently, and when she spoke, it was with the soft voice of a terrified child. “I know….”