So it's true what they say about warlocks, then?" true?". "You can't be rude to everyone who talks to me."Alec made a wide, sweeping gesture. "And why not? Cramping your style, am I? I mean, maybe you were hoping to flirt with werewolf boy here. He's pretty attractive, if you like the messy-haired, broad-shouldered, chiseled-good-looks type.""Hey, now," said Jordan mildly. Magnus put his head in his hands. into?""Mermaids," said Magnus into his fingers. "They always smell like seaweed."," Alec said savagely, and kicking back his chair, he got up from the table and stalked off into the crowd.
The mermaid is an archetypal image that represents a woman who is at ease in the great waters of life, the waters of emotion and sexuality. She shows us how to embrace our instinctive sexuality and sensuality so that we can affirm the essence of our feminine nature, the wisdom of our bodies, and the playfulness of our spirits. She symbolizes our connection with our deepest instinctive feelings, our wild and untamed animal nature that exists below the surface of outward personalities. She is able to respond to her mysterious sexual impulses without abandoning her more human, conscious side. What happened to the girls who dreamed of being mermaids?
She'd started swimming early in the morning, when the kids were asleep, when she thought he was asleep. She didn't know her absence woke him, that the shift in the bed was an earthquake. When she climbed back in, she smelled like salt and seaweed. Sometimes her hair would still be knotted on top of her head. She tried to keep it dry. She didn't want him to know. The problem with marrying the mermaid girl from the carnival was knowing that one day she'd swim away.
Serafina, Ava, Ling, and Becca swam inside. Neela followed them, but at the very last second, shield. “I can’t,” she said. “Once I go in, there’s no way out again. This is real. You’re real. All this time, a part of me was hoping you were only a dream.”The witch cocked her head. “Only a dream?” she said mockingly. “Long ago, a great mage dreamed of stealing the gods’ powers. Abbadon was born of that dream. Atlantis died because of it. Now, because of a new dreamer, all the waters of the world may fall. There is nothing more real than a dream.” She nodded at the waters behind Neela. Silt was rising in the distance, a great deal of it. “The merman Traho knows this. He’s coming. If you do not believe me, perhaps he can convince you.
I am a siren, and for my adoration of mankind, have been caught in fishing nets one time too many. And in those fishing nets I have learned too many unfavorable things about human intentions and the lack of trust and goodwill; I'm not going to allow myself to be caught, anymore. Sirens do well at singing the sirens' song and dragging vile people to their deaths, and for good reason!
Now tell me what you’re afraid of.”“Uncle Nathan is right about this tree. It’s got some kind of spirit in it. And it doesn’t want me to leave.” I saw my dad smile and shake his head. “I’m serious, Dad. You can’t send those guys up here again. The tree will try to kill them before it lets them take me down. Didn’t you see it happen?”“I saw a couple of accidents…”“And Ronnie fell yesterday, but somehow I’m able to be up in this tree no problem. I got up here without any ropes or ladders. Don’t you find that mysterious? Uncle Nathan doesn’t. Grandfather doesn’t.”“They are both superstitious, that’s all.”“I know,” I said. “And what about that, Dad? You’ve spouted all your legends and myths at me my whole life, and now you suddenly don’t care about them? That doesn’t make any sense.”He sighed so deeply I could hear it. “I study those legends to get to know our culture, our heritage. I don’t believe that they are literal truths.”“But what about the mermaids?” I pressed. “Remember the big story you told about the singing boat and the killer whale? It was you who told me that maybe the story was wrong and it wasn’t a singing boat; it was a mermaid under the boat.”“I remember, but I had a real mermaid staring me in the face at the time. There isn’t anything like that going on right now.”“I hear whispers coming from the tree. It moves on its own. It is warmer than it should be…”“You’ve been up there too long. You’re delirious.”I grunted at him. “It started before I climbed up!”Dad rubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know what you want me to do here.”I turned on the camera and flipped the digital pictures until I found that one with the face. I stuck it in the bucket and lowered it down to my dad and told him to take a look.“Is that as good as a mermaid right in front of you?”He studied the picture a moment and then replied, “I always see faces in the knots of trees. Who doesn’t? I think that’s why so many people create horror stories about them.
After a while Luce curled up with her head leaning on a rock, wondering why she wasn't consumed with despair. Instead she felt an inexplicable sense of peace. She was cradled in music. The rocks around her chanted like slow, growling bells, and each curl of the water stroked her fins with silky notes. She'd been so afraid of leaving her tribe, but she understood that she never would have heard the music resonating out of every crook of the world if she hadn't taken so many risks. She'd opened her heart to the music of solitude, and it had come to her.
In your life, right here and now, things like mermaids, fairies, witches and monsters are nothing but fairytales told to your grandchildren and stories you heard from your own grandparents as children. They exist only in your imagination. Did you ever think that there is a chance all this was once real, that it all existed? Perhaps yes, but you would then consider such thoughts irrational, that even if you were to believe it and try telling someone they would think you for mad. In my world those creatures are real – I’m real, and I am here to tell you of a story that happened in eons past in the majestic island of Aster." - Queen of Merfolk Asteria - Ninemia
Each day Marda gets closer. The sub circles coral reefs off the coasts, where mermaids are said to like the colors of the schools of fishes, and train them to swim around their necks like jewelry or live behind their ears, beneath their long hair. Sometimes mermaids like shallow places, but mostly they like the dark and the beautiful, uncharted, abandoned, soulless parts of the undiscovered world.
Words didn’t come. I couldn’t formulate a thought. I was too startled. These three figures lying in the sand in front of me weren’t surfers at all. They weren’t even people. From their facial features and upper torsos, they looked kind of like women, but all three of them had silver-colored skin. They were bald, with strange ridges marking their skulls. None of them seemed to have ears, only holes in the sides of their heads. No nose was visible, not even a bone or nostrils filled that space between their eyes and mouths. Although their mouths seemed to be moving, they were actually breathing through what looked like gills in their necks. And if that wasn’t weird enough, instead of legs, their upper torsos stretched out into long, scale-covered, silver fishtails. If I had to say what these things stranded in front of me, splattered with oil, appeared to be, I’d say mermaids. And no, they didn’t look like they’d start singing songs or granting me wishes. They looked a little bit scary—but fragile too. Most of all, they looked like they were going to die, and no handsome prince was there to kiss them and keep them from turning into sea foam.
His eyes go wide while a gasp of wonder passes his lips. He turns his body fully toward us. His lips moving like a fish out of water, gasping for breath. He gives his head a shake and stutters out, “Mer—mermaids. There are fish with women’s bodies or—women with fish bodies sitting upon the rocks. I—I never knew...
What do you mean 'has to be?' and what are you smiling at?" I stopped contributing to this ridiculous dance. I grabbed the teapot and began to fill it with water in the sink. Suddenly I felt the slight weight of his body against my back and the corner of his mouth brushed against my ear. "How human you are," he whispered.
My face flushed scarlet. I was a stranger in my own skin. I had ever felt this kind of anger in my life. Fort and confusion grew. Its sensation was an overwhelming concoction of hate. The only things I knew - the only things keeping me remotely calm- was the following litany.My name is Eleanora Ada Stone. I was moved from home to home for seventeen years. I am now living on this god-forsaken island in Maine. I was being kept from a world of secrets. I have abilities. I am not human. I do not know what I am.
What do you mean 'has to be?' and what are you smiling at?" I stopped contributing to this ridiculous dance. I grabbed the teapot and began to fill it with water in the sink.Suddenly I felt the slight weight go this body against my back and the corner of his mouth brushed adjacent my ear."How human you are," he whispered.
My heart might very well beat itself from my chest," she whispered, "and 'tis difficult to breathe.""How odd." Passion thickened his voice. "I seem to be suffering the same symptoms. Does anything else plague you?""A terrible weakness," she whispered shakily. "If you let me go, I am not entirely certain I shall be able to stand."He buried his face in her neck. "Then I shall never let you go.
The ocean has a voice, one that haunts me with its music every moment I’m awake. Even in my dreams it tugs on me, building the ache inside my bones until I can’t ignore who I am. My mother says the water is dangerous, that beyond the innocent whitecaps they’re waiting, but I never hear her over the call of the sea.
I leaned down and looked at his handsome face. I wanted to kiss him in a way that would remain soft and true on his lips, all the while help him from escaping the overwhelming sense of sadnes that he felt. I pressed forward and kissed him, tasting the saltiness of fish against his lips, and the disappointment that he held so very deeply inside. I kissed him long and wide, yet limp and yielding, pulling myself away from reality to only drown in the fantasy of our love. I touched his mouth in such a loving way, that not even his incapability to reach into my soul, could tear us away from exchanging such romance. He immediately gave into the kiss, his sadness slowly giving way to the moment that we so intimately shared. It amazed me what a merman could do, even when flowing tears streamed down his face. Through the bridge of kissing, I had healed him, and he had healed me in return.
And strange were the tales of the pond in the meadow,And eager we listened with eyes opened wideTo Those tales often told by poor Mary the widow,Who lived in a cottage the meadow beside.Play not, my dear boys, near the pond in the meadow,The mermaid is waiting to pull you beneath;Climb not for a bird’s nest, the bough it may sliver,And the mermaid will drag you to darkness and death.
Up the still, glistening beaches,Up the creeks we will hie,Over banks of bright seaweedThe ebb-tide leaves dry.We will gaze, from the sand-hills,At the white, sleeping town;At the church on the hill-side—And then come back down.Singing: "There dwells a loved one,But cruel is she!She left lonely for everThe kings of the sea.(from poem 'The Forsaken Merman')
Nobody wants to admit that mermaids who survive the dangers of the ocean can still be defeated by their own pain." He links his fingers through mine. He squeezes my hand until I look back. "A mermaid's heart is the most fragile thing in the sea. You've somehow managed to keep yours beating. The shield doesn't matter. What matters is you're a survivor.
This angered me. “Nothing has changed!?!?” I screamed at him. I was furious with him. He had duped me. “Your a mermaid! Your a freak!” Calling him a freak hurt his feelings. “I am the same boy you fell in love with. I can't help who I was born as, but that doesn't affect the boy in which I want to be.”“And what is that?” I asked, really emotional right now. “A boy who wants to be given the chance to love you.” With these tender words, I instantly ran into his arms. “Oh Trysten, I don't care who you are, or what you can become, but I love you for loving me.
The idea of fairyland fascinates me because it's one of those things, like mermaids and dragons, that doesn't really exist, but everyone knows about it anyway. Fairyland lies only in the eye of the beholder who is usually a fabricator of fantasy. So what good is it, this enchanted, fickle land which in some tales bodes little good to humans and, in others, is the land of peace and perpetual summer where everyone longs to be? Perhaps it's just a glimpse of our deepest wishes and greatest fears, the farthest boundaries of our imaginations. We go there because we can; we come back because we must. What we see there becomes our tales.
Where mermaids live looks a bit like your pool.' said Bernard. 'Except they build houses out of whale bones and the wreckage of sunken ships. They play chess with seahorses. They wear capes of fish scales and sleep on beds made from seaweed.'As we listened, I thought I heard a slight splashing from the far end of the pool.'At night,' Bernard continued, 'they turn on an electric eel for a night-light, and they light a fire, and the smoke goes up a chimney made from coral.''Wait a minute,' interupted Zoe, clearly immersed in Bernard's description. 'If they live underwater, how could they have a fire?''You should ask them,' said Bernard.Zoe and I open our eyes.Now, look, I know the light was just playing tricks on us. And I know we'd all probably inhaled too much sequin glue. But for the briefest moment, the blue of Zoe's pool gave way to deeper, darker aqua-colored water. The few plants and rocks were replaced with a lagoon and a waterfall where several mermaids lounged half in the water, half in the sun. They splashed and dove, their laughter making the same sound as the water.
I've a need for knowing what potion you mixed with these, lass." The rich baritone of his voice washed over her with a mesmerizing quality. She liked the sound. A lot. 'Twas deep and majestic, the kind of voice a body would never tire of hearing....Apparently we have company. We shall finish this conversation anon.""I highly doubt that we will," she retorted. "My brother has arrived to accuse me of witchcraft and arrest me. Unless you are available for hire as my protector, this conversation is quite finished."Instead of appearing shocked, the stranger's eyes took on a twinkle. "Is that so? Most damsels in your distressed shoes would be either weeping or swooning by now. Instead you offer me employment. I'll admit I am fascinated by your offer.
Part of me felt like I was throwing my life away, for a guy I barely knew. But I wasn’t just doing it for him. Since my parents died, I’d had absolutely no control over my life. If I really thought about it, maybe I’d given up control long before—that day in Oregon when I almost drowned. Since then, I’d always relied on others to take care of me. Maybe it was time to take my life back into my own hands… even if it meant growing fins.
As soon as the rocky coast line of the island came into view, I ordered one of the ropes to wrap around Annabeth's waist, tying her to the foremast. "Don't untie me," she said, "no matter what happens or how much I plead. I'll want to go straight over the edge and drown myself." "Are you trying to tempt me?""Ha-ha.
Aphros nodded, a glint of pride in his eyes. “We have trained all the famous mer-heroes! Name a famous mer-hero, and we have trained him or her!”“Oh, sure,” Leo said. “Like…um, the Little Mermaid?”Aphros frowned. “Who? No! Like Triton, Glaucus, Weissmuller, and Bill!”“Oh. ”Leo had no idea who any of those people were. “You trained Bill? Impressive.