Deep beneath the inky green sea, she dances among the willowy soft seaweed, more elegantly then a seal, whose shiny cold skin is suited to the task of enchantment. Even so, she dances, slicing and seperating the water behinds her into swirlpools of excited air bubbles and loose sand sprayed out like glitter. She loves the water, and takes in deep breaths of it, her paper-thin ivory gills quivering. Fish scurry nervously in her presence, simultaniously frightened and curious. Fish, small and bland enough not to be noticed, swarm in her hair, which is as long and tangled as kelp. Other fish swarm, hiding in the shadow of her, looking up, pleased with themselves at their cunning. Beautiful smooth stones roll along the ocean bed as she rushes by. She closes her eyes, as she manuvers through the currents, and the stifled rays of sun, that somehow find their way into the thick dark grey waters near the end of the sea.
The Little Mermaid
January 31, 2010