As part of my 2017 Bookish goals I have challenged myself and two of my good friends to write a piece, preferably a full short story but anything will do, based off of a writing prompt I pull from a cup. The prompts are a random mix of things I found online or on random prompt generators. We started last week so there will be 50 total; the rules are there are no rules. Just write words. We do not have to share but I want to, so here we are.
Week 1: Mermaids are the women thrown overboard by sailors afraid of having women on a ship. They lure sailors to their deaths as revenge.
Lorilei. Sea witch. Devil. Mermaid. Woman.
These are the words I remember of mans strange grunting language. They moan and bark like seals but for these words which come clear as if they sang them in the language of the sea. Perhaps men only know how to sing when they are truly afraid? Or perhaps I am just able to recognize my name in any language?
Woman. Devil woman.
I was her before I was anything else. I remember that too. Was that my name? Was that my crime? Was that why they threw me to the sea? Devil woman. Tie her. Drag her. Push her to the endless black. The Sea.
Men are ignorant, fearful creatures. They know nothing of the sea. They sit atop her fury and tremble in fear; barking at one another trying to be heard above her roar. Stupid creatures. They cannot hear what she says to them. They should die for that if nothing else.
I remember when I first met Her. The Sea. She was dark and cold. She threw my bound body about exercising my thrashing muscles. Then I could swim. She stung my eyes, stripping away their weakness for light. Then I could see. She burned my man lungs until I thought my chest would burst. Then it did and I could breath. She wore away my man coverings. Then my skin grew tough. My sisters found me then and they broke the bindings on my arms. Free I could swim leagues. I could dive to the deepest beds of the sea and sing of the colors I saw. I could go anywhere in
I chose to go above. To where she beats at men in their strange reefs atop the waves. Those strange, angry creatures. They fight when they should trust. They bark when they should sing. They create their own doom.
They sing when they see my sisters and I. They are a part of the sea when they know real fear. This reef has brought us a sister this day. They must know that Her miracles are come at a price; She demands justice. They must know we don’t for get the pain; we require revenge.
One barks woman and they do their dying ritual. Touch head. Though chest. Touch each shoulder. Some look upward. Stupid men creatures they aim to please the sky when it is the sea that is angry.
My sisters leap and I follow close behind. Our new sister will wait until her tail is strong. Now it is like two small weak tails bound together. Was mine that way once? I am told it must have been but I do not remember anything but my glistening tail, hard as bedrock and powerful enough to make me fly. High as the man reef. Fast as the sky fish.
They call me and I come. The Sea is owed their lives but the fear is my personal joy. I sing to them my memories of the pain and they scream. They hit me but my skin is hard, my muscles lean and solid as rock. They die afraid.
But one. All but one. Not often, but this time. This man sings my name with wonder. He is not afraid. He sings like the Sea. Him I take with me to show Her and she tears the man off of him as she once did me, and she has done to us all. She is not above forgiveness when asked.
I sing to men when the sky is black. I sing my love of the sea and they sing back Witch. Siren. It is a game we play, I and these men who have brought me no sisters. They are men just the same though the Sea does not require justice from them. It is my own rage that will be their undoing.I sing of the colors of the water. I sing of the beautiful creatures that share this home with me.
Then they being to come to me. One by one they step into the Sea where I am there to catch them. I hold their struggling limbs and sing of their deaths. When they no longer spout bubbles I let them free to the Sea and I go sing for another.
Lorelei. Sea witch. Devil. Mermaid. Woman.
I hear their singing. And I come.
It’s like a rambling stream of consciousness more than anything but I don’t hate it. I would have liked to do a full story but I spent too much time wrapped up in my book. This week I plan to do a few thousands words.
What are you writing?
If you would like to play along with us this weeks prompt is: “I need to speak to a human.” he demanded.