Reader. Writer. Romantic.

Seafoam

Prompt:  What’s that seagull thinking?
(Before I launch into it, I’d like to leave you with the image of what I saw when I received this prompt this morning.  I haven’t watched Finding Nemo or Finding Dory, but there is one character, Gerald the seal, for those who know him, that has been everywhere on the internet and when I saw this prompt I saw his face superimposed on a seagull.  Without further ado, enjoy my piece for today).

I knew her once.  Knew her before she was immortalized by Hans Christian Andersen.  Before she was romanticised by Disney into a fairy tale.  Oh yes, I knew her.

She was small for her age, but had the biggest and brightest personality.  She was magnetic.  People from all walks of life were able to connect with her.  More than anything, she loved to talk.  It didn’t matter who or what you were; she always made you feel like you mattered.  Like what you had to say was important.  She always made you feel like you were the only one.

You would think that someone as perfect as she would have no concerns, no wishes for a something more.  But as they say, the grass is always greener on the other side.

Some say she was smitten by the captain of a ship, others a prince.  But I know why she wanted to be human more than anything in the world.

She had always been an adventurer.  A conquerer of sorts.  She had explored every inch of the ocean and her waterways.  She had befriended everyone she could befriend.  Her logical next step was to move from sea to land.  To meet new people.  To try new things.

Novelty is what excited her.

So she did what no one thought she’d dare.  She entered into an eternal contract with the witch of the sea.  Gave all she had to walk on land.

She lost her ability to breathe underwater.  And with each step, it felt like pins and needles.  She knew she never belonged in this world, but for her the adventure was so much more alluring than any pain or sacrifice she had to face.

Days became months and months became years.  She learned to live amongst the humans, hiding her pain behind a painted smile.

But when she gave up her fins for legs, she gave up her immortality.  She gave up her ability to communicate with all those who had once been a part of her old life.

She married and had children, moving in land, far away from the sea.  And when her time came, her corporeal form failed to hold.  She died as a sea nymph might.  Swept away and forgotten.  Recycled by Nature and strewn amongst the stars.

Some nights, if you look really hard, you can see her zipping in and out between the constellations, laughing and mingling with the celestial ones.  To her, death was not the end, but a new adventure for her to explore.

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