"Fish Out of Water" by Chelsa L. Dagley

I never really knew that I was different. My grandmother treated me like her own, and my mother had died giving birth to me. I played like every other child, had many friends and was sociable enough with only a bit of shyness as was considered normal. No, I never knew I was different, not until I was thirteen and started what us girls called ‘the journey into womanhood’.

I had just gotten out of school, had already finished my womanhood celebration a month ago, and was finally getting used to the idea of being one. About two weeks ago people had begun asking me if I was sick, because I was looking a little pale, they said. No, said I, and went on with my normal life, not thinking anything of it. But then on that day, when I got out of school, something dreadful happened.

Four boys all surrounded me at once. I had been looking down at the ground, daydreaming about the cute boy I sat next to in class, Ken, and had not seen them come upon me.

“Well, look who it is,” one said, a nasty tone to his voice.

“Who? Who is it?” said another, with an equally sarcastic lilt.

“It’s the fish girl, Tommy,” the former one said, his voice suddenly informative, making the others laugh. “You know, the one that’s growing scales and has fins between her toes.” They looked at each other as if I wasn’t there, but I was there, and a very dumbfounded there at that.

“Why Nicholas, how do you know she had fins between her toes?”

“Because, I saw her playing in the river this afternoon at lunch. I tell you, it’s true,” Nicholas raised his eyebrow at Tommy.

“Oh, I believe you, I do. But,” now Tommy looked towards me again, “what are we to do about it?”

“Hmm,” Nicholas put his finger to his chin and thought very hard for a moment, his eyes slowly swiveling towards me. Still, I could not get a peep out, and stood dumb as a fish out of water. “I say we take off her shoes, hang her by her feet, and charge a fee for people to come look at the freak,” he smiled evilly.

Now my attention was drawn to the two other boys who vehemently agreed, and I wanted to melt right into the ground as I noticed one was Ken.

Nicholas grabbed my arms, and Tommy reached for my boots as I started crying at the top of my lungs for them to stop, my voice miraculously deciding it finally wanted to aid me. And for a spilt second, I believed they would get away with it. Tommy had managed to get one boot off, but then an adult walked around the corner. He was to the boys’ backs, and so only I noticed him.

“Now, what’s this?” the adult ordered loudly, startling Nicholas and Tommy to let me go. They turned around to confront the adult, and I made good my escape. Half-limping, yes, for I had abandoned my poor shoe to the street. The adult probably didn’t even noticed me leave, because he was so preoccupied with scolding the boys for their misbehavior.

I was halfway home before I stopped to think about what they had said. The scare over, I had stopped crying, but now I sat down to have a good look at my feet. Picking up my bare foot in my hands, I scrutinized the prisoner and found him guilty. There were tiny webs between my toes, so slender that I couldn’t even feel them when I walked. Dropping my foot I looked at my hand, and sure enough small scales covered it. No wonder people had asked if I was sick, the scales were a deathly white with a tinge of blue. Once again I began crying and ran the rest of the way home.

I don’t remember that night well, I was in such a torrent of emotions, but I do remember one thing very clearly. After my grandmother had comforted me, telling me it was just some sort of illness, she had gotten a sudden spark of anger to her eyes. One that had never been there before. I was so stunned I immediately answered her question: ‘Have you been to the ocean recently?’ with a ‘No’, and the spark drifted silently away making her my sweet grandmother again.

Ever since I was a babe, my grandmother had forbidden me to go to the ocean, which lay not half a mile from our house. I didn’t know why, but being an innocent child, I never questioned. And so, not going there became a habit, and my grandmother hadn’t mentioned the ocean for years. I had forgotten about it, actually. So, when she asked that that question, over the next few months - as I was taken to several different doctors about my illness - my curiosity was aroused.

Constantly, I dreamed about the ocean. I had never been there, and yet I only lived less than a quarter of an hour’s walk away. Four months later, after many harassments from kids I believed were my friends, and many incidents with the boys, the doctors finally named my illness ‘a genetic deformity’. They could find no cure, no history of it, no nothing. And so now, instead of being dubbed just ‘fish girl’ I was dubbed ‘The fish retard’.

Now, with no more friends and only my dreams to keep me company, it was only natural that I became obsessed. With the ocean that is. I tried hard to push it from my mind, I certainly didn’t want to break my grandmother’s rule. But, my grades started failing and I spent more and more time sleeping, just to get a glimpse of the vast expanse of water that I believed must be the most gorgeous thing on Earth.

I remember the day I finally went to the ocean. It happened about a year later and almost on accident, for I had no premeditated thoughts on going. For the fourth time that week, I was being pushed around by the boys. But something different happened. A girl named Shelly, one I had once also called ‘friend’, came up behind me carrying a huge bucketful of dirty water. As the boys distracted me, Shelly hefted the bucket and dumped it over my head, proclaiming loudly, “Go back to the water, fish.”

Crying hysterically, I ran away from the laughing kids, my hands over my eyes. I let my feet take me where they would, not caring if it was into a wall or a hole to smash my nose or break my ankle. But, after about fifteen minutes of not running into anything, I stopped and let down my hands. Only to see that I was standing at the edge of a cliff, my toes dangling halfway off. But as surprised as I was at this, I was delighted. For, before me lay a huge expanse of gleaming blue water.

It was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. In my dreams I had imagined it being brown like a river’s water. This was not brown, but sapphire. After a moment of staring, I found a small trail down, for I felt the need to run my toes in it.

When I stepped in, the cold water was like a breeze, calming me. I wiggled my toes, giggling from the sheer pleasure of it. Then suddenly, I took a step. And another and still more until I was submerged to the shoulders. And then I swam and dove and opened my eyes beneath the water to see an amazing array of sea critters.

Why had my grandmother kept me from this? I thought. It was the most wonderful thing in the world. I went home that night soaking wet, and for the first time in my life, got scolded. My grandmother grounded me for two weeks, and I promised her and myself that I would never go back. And I believed it, until I wasn’t grounded anymore. Once out of the house the first thing I did was go there, to swim. Once again that night I was grounded.

This became a pattern: swim, ground, swim, ground, and so on. One that my grandmother finally realized she could never break, and so gave up. So, everyday after school I went to the ocean to swim. It was the most happy days of my life.

But then, as was the habit with all happy things, something happened. I was at the ocean, swimming, and I saw a swirl of water. Thinking it pretty, I swam over, only to discover what an undercurrent was. Quickly was I pulled under, and immediately I panicked. For humans could not breath under water, and I certainly was a human. Or so I had thought back then.

I held my breath, for I felt that I could save the last bit of oxygen in me until I made it back to the surface. But, as hard as I struggled, the current just kept dragging me under, until finally, I could barely see the sunlight reflecting upon the water.

The blue world around me felt alien, but familiar at the same time. Slowly, my vision began to fade, and I thought I was hallucinating when a blue, scaled hand grabbed my arm and pulled. Everything was fuzzy, but I thought I saw a finned head and webbed feet.

I remember being thankful to whatever the hallucination was of, for I was being pulled toward the surface. I thought of sweet air filling my lungs, but just before I broke the water, my breath ran out and out of instinct I opened my mouth.

Two days later I woke up. My grandma was trying to feed me soup and when she saw I was awake cried out and hugged me. I asked her what happened, and she said a neighbor had found me lying unconscious on the shore. When she left my sideI slowly began to recall what had happened under the water that day.

I had opened my mouth to take in air that wasn’t there, only to have my lungs filled with water. But surprisingly, it hadn’t hurt. My neck had stung a little as I felt the water rush out, but then I had hit the surface, and finally did pass out from lack of oxygen.

Summing that blurry memory up as a feverish dream, I went about my normal life again, seemingly cured for the want to go to the ocean. My grandma had explained what an undercurrent was, and how that was why she didn’t want me going to the ocean. I excepted this explanation, of course.

But, soon I began having dreams about a scaly, blue man with fins for hair and webs between his toes. His large black eyes haunted my mind, and once again my grades began to fail. It wasn’t a surprise when I found myself standing before the water’s edge once again, as if waiting for something. I couldn’t bring myself to go in though, not so soon after the ordeal.

One thing finally did surprise me as I stood there, the water lapping my faintly webbed feet. A head popped out of the water for a second far out in the distance, and then disappeared. I staggered backward, away from the water, rubbing my eyes. Had I just seen that? Or was I just a little frightened and so I had imagined it?

I ran away, but was back with a full bag of curiosity on my shoulders the next day. With a determined look on my face, I walked into the water. Once and for all, I would free myself of this fear of the water, and at the same time get rid of the strange fish-man hallucinations.

My skin relished the taste of the water, making me forget my fears, and soon I was swimming as I had before. I dove down deep and collected muscles, I lay on my back and floated, lazily. It was during one of the lazy moments that it happened. The quiet water licked my sides as I drifted, staring up into the gray sky. A bubbled floated up next to me and popped, making me glance over.

A man’s black eyes and finned head stared at me, not two feet away. I thrashed about in panic, my heart pumping and fear making me swim in circles. As I struggled to keep my sanity, he disappeared until I finally stopped, tired, at which point he promptly reappeared. Calm now, although my heart still did jumping jacks, I looked him over, and realized he couldn’t be any older than myself. He was no man, but a boy.

“Who are you?” I remembered whispering, and the hairless brow had furrowed.

“Duuncon,” he said, with a subtle humming sound to his voice. Suddenly, I wasn’t afraid anymore. “Oo?” And I immediately knew what he meant.

“Stephanie,” I stated.

“Sefany…” he rolled the name on his tongue, and smiled. He smiled. It was beautiful, and I fell in love with it. Although, I didn’t realize it at the time.

From that moment on, I came to the ocean everyday for a very different reason. Me and Duuncon spoke for many hours, although most of our time together was spent trying to understand each other’s accents. We compared each others looks, for I had features like his, but was still far stranger than what he was used to. I had long black hair, and he loved to play with it. I, also, loved to run my fingers over his head-fins, laughing at the rubbery feeling to them.

This went on for many months without anybody ever finding out about Duuncon. But, just like however many times before, the happy times were bound to end, and when they finally did it was harsh. I was swimming with Duuncon, and I had already spent much longer time with him that day than I ever had before.

“Stephanie!” I heard from the shore, and Duuncon disappeared beneath the water when we both looked over and saw my grandmother.

I swam back to the shore and was immediately gathered up in her arms, but the reunion didn’t last long before she started yelling at me. As we walked back to our house, she told me how I was never to speak with Duuncon ever again. She explained to me that he was an evil merperson, bent on stealing me from the world, and that I must resist his spells. She was so angry at me that I actually believed her, once again promising that I would never go back, although it tore my heart to pieces to think that I would never see him again.

I did my best to be normal once again, but I always had a small twinge in the back of my eyes that I interpreted as allergies. I knew, but never would admit to myself, that it was actually the need to feel the cold water slide over my skin, and to have Duuncon’s large black eyes widen in confusion at one of my land-person jokes, only to squint with humor as I would try to explain what it meant.

My life had settled a bit, for the kids had finally gotten bored of picking on me. And so I did this for another year, always thinking about the ocean, and the fish-boy. I told myself it was a spell, and that if I stayed away from the ocean for long enough, the deep stabbing pain I felt every night as I slept would eventually go away.

But it never did, and a year later I found myself back at the ocean. It was the middle of the night, for my grandmother kept a vigilant watch on me in the day time, and the moon shone beautifully on the water. I stood there until morning, when I finally lay down and wept. I wished for things I knew I never could have, for my mother, and for the fish-boy.

When I was done, I sat up and looked out onto the water. The water swelled, and a wave hit my knees, making me shiver. As the swell died back down, it left a man standing there awkwardly. He resembled my fish-boy, but much older.

“Sefany…” he said, the same low hum to his voice as Duuncon. I stood, looking him over curiously. He wore no clothes, having no embarrassing features that would call for them, yet he was still obviously male.

“Who are you?” it was the second time I had asked that to a fish-person.

“You must listen to your heart, Sefany,” he said, ignoring my question. And as I stood there, I looked into my heart, and saw sadness for my loss of Duuncon, and a deep love for him.

“But, my heart steers me the wrong way.”

“Never,” he immediately answered. “You are a good person, as long as you listen to your heart, you will do the right thing.”

“W-where is Duuncon?” I asked him finally, tears slipping down my cheeks at the chance to see him again.

Another fish-man stepped up, and this time I saw it was Duuncon. He had grown into a man since I had last seen him, and was almost as tall as his father, for the resemblance was obvious now. I couldn’t stop myself, and ran out into the water to embrace him. His scaly arms eagerly enfolded me, and we stood that way for a long time.

“I love you,” I said to Duuncon, for I needed to tell him.

“And I love you,” he said back, smiling. “Will you come with me, Sefany?” he asked, and I knew what he meant.

“But, I cannot breath there.”

“Oh, but you can,” his hands brushed over my neck, where three tiny slits appeared: gills.

I pulled myself away and looked over at Duuncon’s father, who was smiling.

“Is this right?” I asked, for I felt that I could trust him.

“It is. Your parents would have been proud.”

A completely different kind of tear ran out of my eyes as I asked, “Tell me about my parents, please I must know.”

He nodded understandingly, and so opened his mouth to tell me of the people I didn‘t know, yet loved with all my heart, “Your father was a good friend of mine, he held a fairly high position in the merworld. But, when he met your mother, a land-person, everyone told him he must not so much as speak to her. They fell deeply in love, and broke the merpeople’s rule of consorting with a land-person. When your father died, your mother told me she was pregnant with you. Later, I heard that she died while giving birth to you, and was very sad for a long time. Also, the merfolk had seen what love those two had had, and all mourned over their deaths.”

“So, my father was a merman?”

“Stephanie!” I turned to see my grandmother running along the shore towards me, “You mustn’t take her you evil things!” she was shaking her hand at the fish-men.

“Why do you hate them so, grandmother?” I asked her when she was close.

“They took my daughter away from me. They killed her! And now they will kill you,” she wept and grabbed my arm in a last futile attempt at saving me from an imagined threat.

“Grandmother…” I pulled my arm away and turned my back on her to grasp Duuncon’s hands.

“Can you not see their love?” Duuncon’s father asked my grandmother. She looked over at us, and buried her head in her hands, nodding.

“I am not going to die, grandmother. I promise I’ll come visit you,” I said without looking away from Duuncon.

My grandmother took her hands away from her face and looked over Duuncon for a long time. He stood his ground, staring into her face defiantly. Finally, she said, “You must take care of her. She has never seen the merworld before, and never used her gills.”

Duuncon nodded gravely, “I will teach her all the ways of our people, and always she will have the freedom to come back, no matter how deeply it would scar my soul to let her go.” Now he looked to me, into my gray, human eyes and said, “After you have gotten used to our world, and if you like it, I will ask you to marry me. I will not ask now, for you may still decide life in our world is not the life you want.”

I understood his decision in this, and so I said, “Alright.”

And that was how I came to realize I was different. I went to the merworld with Duuncon and his father, and it took me awhile to get used to the deep waters, but as I grew in age, I became more and more fish, taking on more of my father’s features than my mother’s. I always kept my long black hair though, and it was the object of many fish-girls fantasies, for they, like humans, only dream of what the land-people and their cities look like. For what the merpeople’s cities look like, they’re impossible to describe, so I will leave it up to you to find your own fish-boy, fall in love, and be taken to see for yourself.

I visited my grandma every week and after many years she came to accept that it wasn’t my father and his people that killed my mother, but too small of birthing hips and having just lost half her heart; the father of her baby.

Me and Duuncon had seven kids, all of them with the ability to live both under and above the sea. I would take them to visit my grandmother, who moved right up next to shore so that even Duuncon could visit, and she loved each and every great grandchild like they were her own.

Three of my children, Meaka, David, and Kiory, had the land instinct in them. So, I asked my grandmother and when she agreed, they went to live with her. Until they found their own land-boy and girls, and made many grandchildren who all had long black hair.

Now, for the most part, everyone in my family lived happily-ever-after, all except one of the children who went to live on land. But, that is a different story to be told by a different person. For now, I think this is a good place to end the story.