Chapter Two
Vera
Iawaken soaking wet. I groan and flop my arm over my face, trying to shield myself from the droplets raining mercilessly down on my face. Did I leave my window open and now the rain is pouring into my apartment getting water damage everywhere?
Except… didn’t I fall asleep at my desk? That is nowhere near my window. I lift my arm off my face, noting that my skin is bare. I don’t know where my sweater went, but suddenly I’m cold. I suppress I shudder and push myself up into a sitting position. The first thing I notice besides how wet I am and the fact that I’m no longer wearing my shirt, is that I’m not in my apartment anymore. I’m lying next to a great body of water—the ocean? Wave after wave of greenish water laps up around me, moving somewhat turbulently in the wind and rain.
I tilt my head over to see that I’m not lying next to a body of water but rather in the middle of it. There is no land to be seen anywhere nearby. Just rolling waves and gray skies. I’m stranded on a rock.
How did I get here?
I groan and reach a hand up to clutch my head. Is someone trying to kill me?
Is this a prank?
Who do I have in my life who would even prank me?
I don’t know what to do, should I call the coast guard? What is their phone number? Wait, do I even have my phone on me?
I swing my legs around, but they move stiffly. I frown, glancing down to see that in the place of my two legs all I have is one long scaly tail.
I jump slightly, skidding back on my rear across the rock as if I can somehow escape the fins, but they follow me, flopping like a dead fish the whole way.
My screams mingle with the crashing surf of the ocean waves.
I shimmy backward until suddenly my hand meets empty air and I fall backward with a gasp into the water, having crawled right off the edge of the rock in my panic.The fishtail, unfortunately, follows me. I struggle as the waves envelop me, trying to get my legs underneath me when I haven’t any legs at all. I’m floundering, no worse than that. I’m drowning.
My hands fly to my neck, but I freeze in my flailing as I realize one little important detail. I can breathe. I’m underwater and I’m breathing.
I freeze as I sink deeper into the waters, bubble rising up around me, as I struggle to take stock of my situation.
Okay so I have a scaly fishtail. It is red and orange with bits of green. It’s actually kind of spectacular and shimmery. In a completely freak out worthy way.
I’m wearing a wrap of fabric that is the same color as my tail, around my chest. My hands move up my arms, as I shudder. My hair is still red as it floats around me, but I don’t feel like myself.
For a second, I think I’m probably having a really weird dream, but as soon as that thought crosses my mind, I realize that probably isn’t the case. My mind always saves its creativity for my screenplays. My dreams are never this vivid, and the second I start to suspect myself of dreaming it fades away immediately so that I don’t ever remember my dreams upon waking.
I move my hand down to the tail, pressing my lips together as I study it. I grip the nearest scale and yank, hissingas sharp pain shoots down my legs—no not legs but where they would be. I quickly release the scale, rubbing my hand down it, trying to relieve some of the sting.
Now that I’m calming down a little bit, I’m starting to realize that the tail greatly resembles how I always imagined the hero of my screenplay, Moira, to look.
Straight down to the flecks of green in her sunset-colored scales.
I tilt my head as I once again consider the possibility of this being a dream, but then I remember the pain.
“No, not a dream,” I say to myself even though I should under no circumstances be able to speak under water.
My hand flies to my throat as panic wells up within me. I should be drowning right now, not talking and breathing like normal. This isn’t right.This isn’t right.
I struggle to find the calm that I had earlier although I’m beginning to think now that it was just numbness of shock. I clamp my hand over my mouth, trying not to scream or sob or possibly throw up. Because I feel dangerously close to doing all three.
Growing up, I always felt an emotional disconnect while surrounded by my passionate, fiery family. I just was not moved by the same things that seemed to move everyone else. My sister would call me a robot when faced with mystony expression while she sobbed her eyes out over some character’s death or sad movie plot.
I wonder what she would think to know that I’m having a panic attack undersea.
Not so emotionless after all…
I draw in a deep breath even though I am loathe to do it while underwater. It feels wrong, even if it doesn’t physically hurt.
