Maeryn's Monologue

This started out as me practicing writing monologues in story form, and it created the character that I posted on Imaginary Friends Anonymous. I have another one like it on my blog that I'm not posting here.

"You think I'm like a villain from one of your storybooks, don't you, little bookworm?" Maeryn mocked, walking around me. She leaned in close and whispered in my ear, "But I'll tell you a secret: this isn't a fairytale. This is real life, and in real life good doesn't always conquer evil." She stood, her cloak billowing, and her voice grew louder. "Why else do you think you couldn't outrun me? It did not matter that you are good and kind; I was more clever, more cunning, more determined to get what I want," she smiled maliciously, "Even if what I want isn't nice." She strode around me for a minute, studying me. I tried to keep my face impassive despite the racing of my heart, though I'm not sure I succeeded.

"Pity that you chose to side against me," she continued, still studying me. "You would have made a nice addition to my entourage." She laughed softly and tucked a strand of my hair back behind my ear. "Pity," she repeated, "that your pretty face had to be accompanied by such courage, " her hand moved to rest on my chest, and disgust filled her voice as she said, "and such a good heart."

She walked away suddenly, but stopped midway to the door. She turned back to me, the anger back in her eyes. "I want that heart removed," she said icily. For a moment there was silence. "Guard!" she screeched, and one of the men by the door stepped forward and saluted. "Did you hear what I said? I want the girl's heart!" she shouted, then turned her eyes to me, a menacing grin on her face. "And, just like in your stories, bookworm, I want it on a silver platter." She swooped down on me and whispered so only I could hear, "I never said I would be merciful and kill you before they carve it out, did I... keep that in mind." She must have felt me tense, because she laughed softly. "I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, 'Where's my happy ending?' Well, little hero, this is my story with my happy ending, not yours." And she swept from the room without another word, slamming the door behind her.

Mindless; Chapter Two

“Hello?” Horace called, peering cautiously into the room. “Is anyone in there? Well...I know I’m late, but I got lost. Can I come in?”

Only his echo responded.

    “Alright, I’m coming in. Don’t get mad at me, okay?”
    Once again, no one responded. Shrugging in what was supposed to be a nonchalant way, Horace shuffled into the room. The full view took his breath away.
    The room was neither rectangular nor circular, but seemed to be a fluid mixture of both. The walls were as black as his mother’s precious ebony ring, but had far more elegant designs etched into them. Glowing blue lines twisted and marched in awe-inspiring patterns, constantly changing. They had started only after he’d entered the room, but...wow.
    “Amazing,” Horace croaked. “This can’t be the right room.”
    “Oh, but it is,” someone said.
    Horace whirled this way and that, but he couldn’t find the source of the deep voice. What he did see was an arch of blue flame shooting toward him. It streaked toward him from the opposite side of the room, rumbling with the sound of jagged lightning.
    Horace squealed and ducked out of the way. The flame crashed into a circular pattern behind him and disappeared.
    “Your reflexes are good,” the voice muttered, “but the squeal wasn’t necessary.”
    “Who are you?”
    “Me? That doesn’t matter, not unless you pass the test.”
    Horace gulped. “Er, what test do you mean exactly?”
    The voice tried to respond (or that’s what it sounded like), but static set in, and it disappeared. Horace wasn’t sure if thatwas a technical difficulty or part of the test. He really didn’t want to  find out.
    “I’ll be going now,” he said.
    The door behind him slammed shut, and he heard it being bolted.
    “On second thought,” he whimpered, “I’ll stay for awhile.”
    The patterns burned out suddenly, plunging Horace into complete darkenss.
    “Hello,” said a new voice. “Pleased to meet you.”

Mindless; Chapter One (Draft Two)

Horace stumbled into the huge, aristocratic building, dripping streams of water onto the oriental carpet. Hair--his hair-- was plastered to his gleaming forehead, and his tattered suit (which was all his mother could afford) resembled a sewer, both in color and in present quality. As soon as the automatic doorway slid shut behind him, Horace snatched the glasses off his nose and cleaned them up. No use going before wizards blind, he decided.

Reaching into a sodden pocket, Horace rummaged for his map. The rain had ruined it as well, turning it into a pile of mush, and he couldn’t ask for directions. To his surprise, the place was utterly empty.

    Horace anxiously checked his watch. Good, he still had ten minutes to sort out this mess. He was to report down to room WT-234, which, he remembered, was on the lowest level.

Well, he thought, not sure which direction to go in, no use dawdling!

He chose directly forward.

The hall was bleak in every way except one; colorful depictions of every battle fought

by the British lined the wall.    They were excellent paintings, probably done by...he had no idea who, but whoever it was had real talent. He gawped at the paintings until he came to the cement stairs. So surprised was he by the appearance of the dirty steps, he almost toppled head over heels into it. He stopped himself by grabbing onto the stainless steel railing. No use going before wizards with a cracked head, that much was obvious.
    The lighting grew dismal as Horace descended. Shadowy lines became more defined, spiders skittered over the cracked plaster, lights occasionally flickered out. Whenever they did go out on the long trip downstairs, Horace clutched the railing, breathing hard. They always came back on though.
    The trip ended with a white door. Unlike everything else surrounding Horace’s small figure, the white door was perfect. The paint looked fresh and appealing, the doorknob gleamed gold in the leaky light, and there wasn’t a crack to be seen. Maybe it just contrasted with the filth around it, but Horace was sure this was the most perfect door he had ever seen. He felt guilty even touching the doorknob, much less opening the door.
    Horace checked the watch again. He was three minutes late already, and wizards didn’t like waiting. That much he’d gathered from the series of phone calls they’d given him. Always, they were snotty. Always, they were rude. Nevertheless, Horace was here to become one of them, and that thought filled him with dread.
    Horace quickly wrung out his tie. Water seeped down, and the tie looked even more scrunched up but a little less wet. At least the bloodstains were no longer visible. Finally, Horace turned the doorknob and entered the vast, black room.

Prologue

I should have written this first, but I didn't think of it 'til I was in the shower this morning. So here it is:

            “The boy, he proves everything! Don’t you see, James? If we can define his abilities scientifically and mathematically, we’ll be able to use them!” Bernard paced back and forth in a dark library. The glow from a warm fireplace vivified his enthusiastic expression, making it look more like insanity.

            “Bernard,” James said coolly, sitting in a red armchair, “he got shot three times. Anyone could’ve survied that, so the boy doesn’t prove anything.”

            “But he does! I felt his skin afterwards, and do you know what I found? No pulse! His skin was cold, icy even. But then…I can’t explain it! He just…just sputtered back to life! How is he doing, by the way?”

            “Still suffering from fevers. The doctor says he doesn’t think the boy will live through the night.”

            “But just you wait,” Bernard said, stopping, calm thunder etched into his features. “If he does die, he’ll come back to life.”

            Wesley stared into the blurry distance, trying to break free of the fire that held him. Sweat poured down his face, he groaned and rolled over, and the fire stayed. He had never been so miserable in his life.

            A doctor stepped forward. “Easy, son, easy. Drink this tea.”

            Wesley fumbled for the glass, but dropped it as soon as it touched his fingers. He turned about, looking wildly for the tea.

            “Where is it! Where is it! Where is it…”

            “Shh,” the doctor said. “You’re delusional right now. But don’t you worry, it’ll be over soon. Just you wait.”

            “Where is it…where is it…where is it…”

            Wesley suddenly stopped speaking, just as two men entered from the east wing. His eyes glazed over, and his hand fell with a soft thud on the pillow.

            “He’s dead, sir,” the doctor sighed. “Just like you wanted.”

            “Wait!” James said. “You had the boy killed?”

            “There was poison in the doctor’s medicine.”

            “But--why?”

            Light gleamed off of Bernard’s spectacles. “It was the only way to prove my point. Watch.”

            James stared back at Bernard. “You’re not sane, are you?”

            “No,” Bernard said, “but that doesn’t matter. Watch!”

            The boy was still stone dead.

            “Bernard--”

            “Watch!” Sweat poured down Bernard’s face. “He’ll come back to life, just you wait! It’ll prove everything!”

            “You need help, Bernard,” James said softly. “I’ll ring for a real doctor. And you--” he pointed to the doctor that knelt next to the boy. “--you won’t get away with this.”

            “No, no,” Bernard screamed. “No doctors, nothing. I’m not a murderer…he’ll come back, I promise. I promise…”

            Bernard sank down, weeping. James stood stock still in the center of the room. Finally, he lifted a phone from a smooth, metal table. He put in a number and waited.

           

           

Mindless; Chapter One

    “Imagine,” Horace’s master said, “that you were in a tight fix. Say--say that you were engaged in battle with two skilled Gorgons. What would you do?”
    Horace shrugged. “I dunno.” He stared gloomily at his mug of Ginger Tea, yearning for the end of the hour-long lesson.
    “Come now, Horace, you can think of something.”
    Horace ignored the remark.
    “If you’re unwilling,” his master said impatiently, “there are other exceptional scorers that would appreciate the teaching I can offer.” He sounded hurt. “Perhaps we should take you to the office. We can get your apprenticeship revoked.”
    “Master,” Horace sighed, “why can’t I do real magic? It’s been three weeks, and, well...I expected something more...more...I dunno.” He subsided back into silence. Pestering his master was useless, he knew that, but he kept hoping for more than scenarios.
    “I understand your impatience,” his master said, still tapping one foot impatiently, “but you must learn the basics before you can learn spells.”
    Horace glared at the dark band of spice rising from his tea bag. He knew where this discussion was going. It was going the same place it did everyday Horace failed to excite some enthusiasm.
    “It’s like this; imagine you’re going to play chess. You have to learn the rules before you play the game!”
    “But,” Horace countered, “the best way to learn the game well is to play it.”
    “True, but you need the basics first.”
    “And I’ve been learning the same basics for three weeks!”
    His master, Mr. Dickens, contemplated his young, apparently bright student with a bit of distaste. “Fine,” he said finally. “We’ll do it your way.”
    Horace jumped up, accidentally hitting his cup of tea in the process. Dark liquid poured across the smooth, metal surface of the table.
    “Once you’ve cleaned that up, follow me. We’re going out to the pasture.”
    Horace could barely contain his new found excitement. He scurried over to a basket of rags, and then back to the table before he realized he’d forgotten to grab a rag. He rolled his eyes and ran back to the basket. Once he’d managed to get a rag, he re-erected the mug and wiped up his mess. Now out to the pasture!
    The pasture consisted of several acres of sagging, brown-grey hills, scrubby plants that were supposed to be trees, and some unhappy cows. Mr. Dickens made an awful rancher but an excellent wizard. Wizards, however, dragged in a meager living except in times of war when nations realized that wizards were actually useful. Hence Mr. Dickens's attempt at ranching.
    Mr. Dickens was examining one of the cows now, a look of deep frustration on his face. “Stupid cows,” he muttered as Horace got close enough to hear. “Can’t get ‘em to live for more than...” His muttering turned into a murmur that Horace could no longer understand.
    “Mr.Dickens?”
    “Yes, yes, just a minute, Horace.”
    “Okay.” Horace waited for a few moments, shivering in the frosty silence. After several minutes had gone by, he cleared his throat. “Sir?”
    “Alright, Horace, I’m ready. Sit down.” Horace quickly sat down.
    “Since you know how to teach better than I do, what would you like to learn?”
    “Sir?”
    “You’re obviously the better teacher. You tell me what you’d like to learn.”
    Horace knew better than to take the opportunity. It was a trap, of course, an excuse for Mr. Dickens to be angry with him. If his suggestion--assuming he gave one--didn’t turn out well, he’d go back to the same dreary lesson everyday. On the other hand, not giving a suggestion might incite further scorn from his master.
    “You know magic, sir,” he said. “Everything is your decision.”
    “Then why are we out here?”
    “Because I suggested it, and you decided to take my advice. That’s why, sir.” Horace tried not to sound smug, but he worried his master had heard a hint of it in what he’d said. Mr. Dickens was staring down at him with cold, hard eyes. Finally, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
    “You win. We’ll discuss your career first, though. You know there are several different types of wizards, right?”
    “Yes sir. Would you like me to list them?”
    “No, no, there’s no need to show off. Just tell me a few that you’re interested in.”
    Horace thought for a few moments. “I would like to do detective work, sir.”
    “I see. Well, as you know, I’m not trained at all in detective work, but they use the same core. I will teach you this core, and I will give you the books that will help you expand in your chosen direction. Fair enough?”
    ‘Yes, sir.”
    “You know what happens during wars?”
    “Battles, sir.”
    Horace’s master laughed. “Yes, there are battles, but that’s not what I’m talking about. Whatever you’re magical profession, if a war starts, you are immediately drafted.”
    “Why?” Horace asked. “That doesn’t seem fair.”
    “It has nothing to do with fairness. We live in a small nation, my boy, and that means we’re the only hope our nation’s got in a war. Our nation is best for having the greatest variety of good magicians, and that’s why we do it. Purely strategic.”
    “Oh. So who does the duties that we normally do while we’re gone?”
    “You are sharp, Horace! Well, usually lower magicians who don’t quite meet the standards we do, but sometimes the position is filled by highly skilled amagi.”
    “Amagi?”
    “Don’t you know Latin yet? ‘A’ means without, ‘magi’ means worker of magic.”
    “So...normal people?”
    “Yes, but enough of that. If this was a story, readers would think we were spouting information for their benefit instead of our own. We don’t have time for nonsense like that, do we?”
    “No, sir.”
    “Let’s get our first lesson learned. It’s a bit of a history lesson...”
    Horace groaned and prepared himself for a long period of boredom.
    “This story starts at the turn of the 20th Century,” Mr. Dickens said. “It was during a time of great angst, especially in Egypt which, by the way, used to be the center of the world. You see, Britain had pretty much claimed Egypt as their own little place. This made Egyptians mad, so they decided to start a rebellion through Civil Disobedience.”
    Horace yawned.
    “Don’t worry,” Mr. Dickens said, “this story gets really exciting. It gets harder and harder to please you young people.”
    “Whatever,” Horace said. “You were saying?”
    “Oh yes. Well, the leader of the rebellion caused a lot of fear in the British, so they banished him. That was a stupid mistake on their part, if you ask me.” He cleared his throat. “Anyways, the people got mad, and the rebellion got violent. Egyptians started learning magic from British traitors (many of whom were secretly executed). Things got bad, and the British gave up. The world was starting to say, ‘Hey, you haven’t got a right to take over other countries.’ Well, there were British wizards and army people that weren’t so happy with this arrangement. So they stayed.
    “The greatest wizard ever known stayed, and the greatest rebel ever known, half British, half Egyptian, meddled with each others business, and the pure British wizard lost his mind. The rebel kid (yes, he was a kid) was never seen again.
    “Legend has it that the wizard’s mind is still out there. He searched for it the rest of his life, but could never manage it. He never cast another spell, and the Brits were forced to leave. The End.”
    “But what does that have to do with me?” Horace asked, feeling befuddled.
    “Well, if the mind is still out there, whoever finds it can bind with it. They’ll then become the greatest magician alive. It’s said that they will also gain immortality.”
    “Why immortality?”
    “The kid who was never seen again, he came back to life every time he was killed. He was immortal.”
    Horace’s face flushed red with more than cold. Excitement, anxiety, and ambition were all contributing factors. He had to hurry with his studies, he decided. If he did, he might find the mind before others did. And then--
    “Remember, Horace,” Mr. Dickens said, “many have tried to find his mind and failed. The wizard himself did.”
    Horace nodded. “Yes, sir.” Inside, however, he had very different ideas. These ideas got him in near fatal trouble the next day.

Motivation From Lemony Snicket

Some of you, mostly Miles, are doing the NaNoWriMo challenge. I'm not, but I surbscribed anyways to the pep talks they give you every couple days, because they're interesting and informative. Like this one:

Dear Cohort,

Struggling with your novel? Paralyzed by the fear that it's nowhere near good enough? Feeling caught in a trap of your own devising? You should probably give up.

For one thing, writing is a dying form. One reads of this every day. Every magazine and newspaper, every hardcover and paperback, every website and most walls near the freeway trumpet the news that nobody reads anymore, and everyone has read these statements and felt their powerful effects. The authors of all those articles and editorials, all those manifestos and essays, all those exclamations and eulogies - what would they say if they knew you were writing something? They would urge you, in bold-faced print, to stop.

Clearly, the future is moving us proudly and zippily away from the written word, so writing a novel is actually interfering with the natural progress of modern society.

It is old-fashioned and fuddy-duddy, a relic of a time when people took artistic expression seriously and found solace in a good story told well. We are in the process of disentangling ourselves from that kind of peace of mind, so it is rude for you to hinder the world by insisting on adhering to the beloved paradigms of the past. It is like sitting in a gondola, listening to the water carry you across the water, while everyone else is zooming over you in jetpacks, belching smoke into the sky. Stop it, is what the jet-packers would say to you. Stop it this instant, you in that beautiful craft of intricately-carved wood that is giving you such a pleasant journey.

Besides, there are already plenty of novels. There is no need for a new one. One could devote one's entire life to reading the work of Henry James, for instance, and never touch another novel by any other author, and never be hungry for anything else, the way one could live on nothing but multivitamin tablets and pureed root vegetables and never find oneself craving wild mushroom soup or linguini with clam sauce or a plain roasted chicken with lemon-zested dandelion greens or strong black coffee or a perfectly ripe peach or chips and salsa or caramel ice cream on top of poppyseed cake or smoked salmon with capers or aged goat cheese or a gin gimlet or some other startling item sprung from the imagination of some unknown cook. In fact, think of the world of literature as an enormous meal, and your novel as some small piddling ingredient - the drawn butter, for example, served next to a large, boiled lobster. Who wants that? If it were brought to the table, surely most people would ask that it be removed post-haste.

Even if you insisted on finishing your novel, what for? Novels sit unpublished, or published but unsold, or sold but unread, or read but unreread, lonely on shelves and in drawers and under the legs of wobbly tables. They are like seashells on the beach. Not enough people marvel over them. They pick them up and put them down. Even your friends and associates will never appreciate your novel the way you want them to. In fact, there are likely just a handful of readers out in the world who are perfect for your book, who will take it to heart and feel its mighty ripples throughout their lives, and you will likely never meet them, at least under the proper circumstances. So who cares? Think of that secret favorite book of yours - not the one you tell people you like best, but that book so good that you refuse to share it with people because they'd never understand it. Perhaps it's not even a whole book, just a tiny portion that you'll never forget as long as you live. Nobody knows you feel this way about that tiny portion of literature, so what does it matter? The author of that small bright thing, that treasured whisper deep in your heart, never should have bothered.

Of course, it may well be that you are writing not for some perfect reader someplace, but for yourself, and that is the biggest folly of them all, because it will not work. You will not be happy all of the time. Unlike most things that most people make, your novel will not be perfect. It may well be considerably less than one-fourth perfect, and this will frustrate you and sadden you. This is why you should stop. Most people are not writing novels which is why there is so little frustration and sadness in the world, particularly as we zoom on past the novel in our smoky jet packs soon to be equipped with pureed food. The next time you find yourself in a group of people, stop and think to yourself, probably no one here is writing a novel. This is why everyone is so content, here at this bus stop or in line at the supermarket or standing around this baggage carousel or sitting around in this doctor's waiting room or in seventh grade or in Johannesburg. Give up your n ovel, and join the crowd. Think of all the things you could do with your time instead of participating in a noble and storied art form. There are things in your cupboards that likely need to be moved around.

In short, quit. Writing a novel is a tiny candle in a dark, swirling world. It brings light and warmth and hope to the lucky few who, against insufferable odds and despite a juggernaut of irritations, find themselves in the right place to hold it. Blow it out, so our eyes will not be drawn to its power. Extinguish it so we can get some sleep. I plan to quit writing novels myself, sometime in the next hundred years.
--Lemony Snicket

Short Story- The Red Telephone Booths

Well, I tried to write this short story completely during Spuds, but it didn't work... I got stuck ^^' I got some real help from my friend, (who told me that i'm really good at setting up long stories..... but of course that is a BAD thing for a short story) she helped, but its still... stuck for a plot point. all i know is its supposed to end up as a "And that's why I was late to school today" story. Well, comment, help, all that crap ^^



The story begins with five red telephone booths standing side-by-side. They were old, and had signs that read, “Out of Order.” They were empty, obviously because to someone who didn’t know better, they were out of order. But to someone who did know better, they were elevators to the underworld.

Unseen to mortal eyes, up out of each of the telephone booths, five different “people” rose up in succession of each other. One of the “people” took a step out of the telephone booth, still unnoticed by the humans walking past.

He chuckled quietly and said, “I still think it’s ridiculously funny that the humans can’t see us when we’re right here.”

“You know why.” Another man said as he stepped out beside him. The two looked almost identical. The first’s name was Eryx, and the second was Finn. They were vampire twins.

“Those silly mortals can’t see us because they’re so self-absorbed and too busy to notice five people magically appearing in five out of order telephone booths.” Said a third person, a female this time. This one’s name was Annette. She had a lovely voice that made it undeniable that she was a siren.

“Yes,” Eryx said with another chuckle.

“Well, we must be moving on.” Another male voice said. This one was Darien, a quite tall skinwalker. Standing next to him was Hayley, a petite hamadryad. These two were a couple.

“Yes, and so off we go!” Eryx said cheerfully. He led the group down the streets of the city towards a certain house in a certain suburb where a certain person lay sleeping.

The group walked silently down the streets, like shades in the morning light; Eryx at the lead, and Finn by his side. Annette walked gracefully, gazing around at her surroundings. Darien and Hayley took the rear, holding hands. It did not take them long to get to the subdivision where their subject lived. They walked past the rows of streets, looking for one particular name.

Eryx stopped and pointed up to the green street sign, which read, “Shady Raven Court.” He and the group turned and moved down the lane, growing closer and closer to where they were going. Eryx seemed to be counting as he past each of the houses, looking for the certain one. Finally, Eryx and the others came to a halt and stared at the house across the street. They had arrived.

Inside the normal house on the normal street, a seemingly normal boy lay in his normal, age-appropriate room. He lay spread-eagle on his stomach, one foot hanging off the bed, uncovered. He had no idea what was in store for him that day.

Suddenly, the boy was rudely awakened by seemingly appearing on the floor with his mattress on top of him. He shot up, pushing the mattress up off of him. His head spun around to see what had caused this disturbance in his sleep patterns. The five strangers standing around him met his eyes. His jaw dropped and no sound came out to express his reaction to five, quite attractive, strangers in his room.

“That was quite effective, Finn, thank you.” Eryx said. Finn nodded with a quick, mischievous smile that disappeared instantly. “Well then, Liam, old boy, you’ll need to come with us.”

The boy’s eyes bugged out of their sockets, “How do you know my name?” He asked.

“We take care to know everybody’s name when we come to take them away.” Eryx said.

“Take me away?!” Liam shouted.

Darien and Finn hushed the boy and Eryx said, “Please, do be quiet, we wouldn’t want your parents to wake up, now would we?”

Liam was silent and stared at Eryx. He gulped and said, in a trembling voice, “Where are you taking me?”

“No time now, we’ll tell you on the way!” Eryx said. “Right now, you will need to get dressed.” Liam looked down and his eyes grew wide when he realized he was wearing nothing but a pair of pajama pants. He pulled up his blanket with a flushed face as Annette giggled.

Liam soon took up the courage to say, “Well I’m not going to change when you’re all standing there!”

They all took the hint. Darien was the first out, and he helped Hayley and Annette step out of the window. Eryx and Finn followed.

Liam sat for a moment, trying to decide whether he was asleep or not. He pinched himself to check and found that, unfortunately, he was awake. He rose and quickly threw on some clothes. He grabbed his backpack and stepped out the window.

“Good man.” Eryx said, and he turned and began back the way they had come.

“NOW are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Liam asked.

“Not necessarily.” Annette said in a teasing voice.

“What?! Why?” Liam exclaimed.

“Because surprises are always fun!” Annette said with a smile. She skipped ahead of Liam, right behind Eryx and Finn.

The Hidden Pool

This took me two hours to type up, so you'd all better like it. This is a story written by my cousin. Just so you know, I'd probably rate it PG-13. But it's a brilliant read, so enjoy!

The Hidden Pool
By Connor Davidson

Jared bounded across the yellow sand, racing the seagulls to his family's site on the beach. He didn't mind the dozens of other parties that shared the bright California shore. The soft and constant drone of the tide lulled the beachgoers to sleep, but Jared was wide awake, filled with childish engery. He screeched to a sudden halt next to Chris. The tanning thirteen-year-old did not appreciate the sudden disruption of his nap as Jared's feet kicked a cloud of sand into his face.
"Jared! If you weren't my cousin, I'd whip you with my towel!" He spat the dirt out of his mouthand wiped it from his eyes. He glared at the beaming shild wasn't even ten yet. The charming, innocent smile disarmed him quickly.
"Hey, Chris! Oh... I'm sorry if I'm bothering you."
"No, no, it's fine," Chris lied.
"Where are Derek and Jerry?" Jared asked.
Chris squinted from the bright sun's reflection on the blue water. "They're out there swimming."
"Aren't you supposed to be watching them?"
"No, my mom is."
"Oh, well... you want to see what I found?"
Chris sighed. "Look, Jared, I just want to relax. Could you leave me alone for the rest of the day?"
Jared cocked his head, "Are you mad?"
"Not really, but I don't really care what seashells or animals you found. I want to enjoy the sun for a while."
"Well, the sun's just as nice over there..."
"Thanks, but no thanks."
The smile on Jared's face diminished. He flanced around at the other family members and sighed. It was no use... If Chris wasn't interested, the adults sure wouldn't be.
He left his cousin, who plugged his music headphones in and continued sunbathing. Walking towards the vast expanse of blue, Jared searched for his younger kin.
Derek and Jerry were busy splashing each other inder the watch of Aunt Clair. The giggled and shouted, heedless of the irritated ladies nearby who did not appreciate their splashing; growling and guiding their children away from them. The boys stopped when they heard Jared call them and waded to the shore. Derek of Jared's younger brother by almost two years, but not quite. Jerry was their cousin, yet due to his closer age to Derek, he considered himself his best friend.
Jared made the rest of the distance to them, kicking up water as he ran.
"Hey guys, I found something really cool," he said.
"What is it?" Derek asked.
"I'll show you."
"What about Aunt Clair?" Jerry asked.
"She won't mind... it's not far," Jared assured.
The others began to follow him when Aunt Clair hurried over. "hey, you boys," she called, "where are you going?"
Jared turned around. "I found something cool I want to show them. We'll be back."
"I don't want to going off alone. Where is this cool thing?"
"Just past the marina," Jared pointed to the nearby motorboats down the beach.
"Have Chris go with you," Aunt Clair demanded.
"Alright, alright..." Jared sighed. He turned the younger boys, "Come on, I'll show you."
They made as thought they were going towards Chris, but when Aunt Clair turned back, the trio scampered off towards the marina, as the had no desire to bother Chris again.
They ran past the boats, admiring some of the more expensive and lavish ones. "I'd like to be on the water in a boat like that," Jared pointed to a smooth, sleek, blue sppedboat that sat entirely alone. Someone must have spent a life's fortune for such a beautiful watercraft.
When Jared led them past the marine, they paused. There were mountains of great gray rocks, as if a massive truck had dropped a load of over sized gravel next to the coast.
"Well," Derek started, "where is it?"
"Follow me, "Jared responded.
They climbed the rocks slowly, being careful not to slip. Jerry scatter the brood of gulls on one of the larger stones. Soon they reached the top of the highest mound and looked down.
There below was a small little bay, almost completely surrounded by the walls of stone. There was a small little mouth that allowed the water to enter in. The bay was about the size of an average swimming pool and about as deep. The water was calm and clear, undisturbed by the shifting tide of the outer ocean.
"Wow!" Derek exclaimed. "It's a perfect little private pool!"
"I know, it's incredible," Jared said. "Think of the awesome games we could play, away from peepers."
"What about this?" Jerry pointed to a sign that read WARNING. It was a caution sign declaring the pool was off limits.
"So what?" Jared asked. "It's not like there's anyone around to enforce it."
"I don't see anything wrong down there," Derek agreed.
"Well, neither do I... But what if there are sharks?"
"Do you see any sharks? Or warnings about sharks on the sign?"
"No, but..."
"Are you afraid?" asked Derek.
"No!"
Jared patted Jerry's shoulder. "There's nothing wrong down there, and there's nobody around. Let's go have some fun down there, without anyone bothering us."
"But what would our parents say?"
"They don't have to find out," Derek proposed.
"What if we get hurt?"
"Jerry, nobody's going to get hurt," Jared assured. "We'll be careful. Come on, let's play something."
"We'll play whatever you want to," Derek added.
"Okay then..." Jerry thought for a moment. "We'll play shark attack."
With a cheer of agreement, the boys rushed down into the pool. It was just like a swimming pool: it started with a shallow end and progressively got deeper towards the mouth of the ocean. The water was not stagnant; instead it was cool and crisp, as if it had been used many times before.
For nearly an hour, they hollered and laughed as they swan from one side of the pool to the other, then back. Jared played the part of the "shark" and the other two boys tried to swim as fast as they could across the bay without getting their feet grabbed. Derek and Jerry giggled and jeered, taunting Jared to swim faster to catch them, and he gleefully complied. None of the boys thought anybody was near, nor did they notice the shape entering the eddy below the surface.
As the boys continued their game, they came closer to the mouth of the pool and the mysterious creature below. It was not until Derek cried out that he felt something brush against his leg that they became observant of their surroundings.
"What was it? A fish?" Jared asked.
Derek shook his head. "It felt bigger."
Jerry was suddenly anxious. "Maybe we should leave now," he mumbled. "What is it's a shark?"
Jared thought for a moment. "Wait," he began, "if it was dangerous, wouldn't it have attacked already?"
"Then what do you think it is?"
The older boy didn't answer. He saw a flash of movement in the water out of the corner of his eye. When he turned to examine if, there was mothing. Jared's eyes scanned the water. He too was nervous, though he worked hard on concealing it. There was a tiny sound of a ripple behind him. He twisted around swiftly; yet again he found absolutely nothing. Derek and Jared were starting to whimper softly.
"Hey guys, I don't think there's anything here. Let's not worry about it. how about..."
A mighty splash exploded behind him and the two other boys cried out in alarm. Jared felt like someone dumped a bucket of water on him. He twirled about, hoping to ward of an ambush. What he saw gave him a greater start.
It was a girl, about all of their same age. She was fair skinned with long, shimmering, soft blond hair.
Jared thought his eyes were tricking him as he pulled his soaked black hair from his eyes. But when he shook his head and rubbed his eyes, the bright and cheery face of the strange girl was still before him.
"Ummm...Jared stuttered, "Hello?"
"Hi there," she grinned, sincere and friendly.
"What are you doing here?" Derek asked. "This place is supposed to be banned>"
"Well, you're here," the girl countered. "I don't stick well to the rules of adults."
"Apparently, neither do we," Jerry said.
The girl giggled. "Who are you guys?"
Jared relaxed, the stranger was obviously being friendly. "I'l Jared Andersen. This is my brother Derek, and my cousin Jerry."
"Well, hi, Jared, and Derek, and Jerry. My name's Selene." She laid herself back, reclining in the water. Then her tail bagen to break through the surface... Tail?
"Oh my!" Derek cried out.
"You're... a mermaid?" Jared asked.
"Well of course I am," Selene responded. "What did you expect? A human girl?"
"Uhh..." the boys all gaped and blubbered.
The mermaid raised her tail higher, letting the boys better see her sparkling green scales, like emeralds. From the waist up, she the same as any normal girl, wearing a bright blue bikini also made of fish scales. There where legs should be, t was a long, smooth tail with white fins. The trio remained motionless, enchanted by each glitter of skin. It was nothing they had ever seen before, except in those movies, of course.
"Well, if you're done looking at me," the mermaid said, "do you think you have room for another playmate?"
The boys nodded slowly, still regaining their senses. Eventually they found their voices and their playfulness, amending their game to fit their new member. The the rest of the day they played and laughed and splashed, far from the eyes of anyone.

What at last they saw the sun sinking into the sea, the boys realized they were long overdue to let their family know where they were.
"Oh dear," Jerry moaned, "We're going to be in big trouble."
"I doubt anyone will miss us," Derek said.
"Chris sure won't," Jared added.
"All the same," said Jerry, "I think we need to get back."
"Do you really have to go?"
Jared sighed. "Yeah, we have to go."
All of them moaned and disappointment filled their eyes. They looked mournfuly at each other for several moments.
"Will you be back soon?" Selene inquired.
"I don't know," Derek answered. "Chris lives here at the coast, but we all live inland, in Colorado."
"Oh," the girl sighed. "So I won't be seeing you again?"
"Yes you will," Jared responded. "We'll come back, I'm sure of it.We can't forget such a fun day, or our new friend."
"No way," Jerry concurred. "We'll be back, maybe next summer."
"I guess I'll wait 'till then," Selene smiled hopefully.
The boys said their goodbyes, exited the water and hiked their way up the rocks. Selene waved to them, and then disappeared beneath the water and out the mouth of the bay. The sun fell below the horizon and set, not only on the world, but on the innocence of the happy children.

Seven years later...
Jared slammed the front door after himself. The crash echoed throughout the house. The silverware and chine on display rattled precariously on their hooks. Silence followed or a moment until Jared stomped his way up the stairs to his room.
"Something wrong?" Aunt Clair asked. Jared's response was a slam of his bedroom door.
Derek looked up from the computer. Jared had often come home late from school in a foul mood, but the intensity of the slamming doors meant that today was profoundly worse. He paused his game and walked up the stairs, then knocked on the door tentatively.
"What do you want?" Jared barked through the door.
"It's me," Derek answered. "You want to talk?"
"If my door is locked, does it look like I want to talk?"
"Come on Jared, we could always talk."
"But usually it was always me comforting you with your problems."
"Well, maybe it could be my turn for a while." Derek waited for a few minutes, and then the click of a door being unlocked followed. Jared opened the door softly. His face was red with tears and dried blood.
"Jared!" Derek exclaimed. "What happened?"
"I failed my test."
"Why are you bleeding?"
"That's something I'd rather not discuss. Come on in..."
Derek stepped into the room. To his surprise, it was a huge mess. Jared had always been so tidy. TO see his clothes and papers all over in such a manner was most distressing.
"So, what happened?" Derek looked again at his older brother ragged face.
Jared sighed, "I stayed after school to take the test again."
"The one for college?"
"Yeah, that one. I know I could do it, I'm smart enough. I know all the concepts... But for some reason I just struggled. I'm pretty sure I failed."
"Oh, come one, Jared, I know you did fine."
"not good enough. Not as good as I know I can be. I want to be able to go to a good school, away from..."
"Away from all of us?" Derek looked concerned.
"Just away from Aunt Clair. It's not like I wanted to live with her since..."
"Stop it! You always told me to be grateful for her since they died. Now I'm telling you. If it weren't for her charity, where would we be?"
"I won't have my fifteen-year-old brother spit my own words back at me! Yes, Clair was certainly kind enough, but its not like we were made welcome. Especially with Chris..."
"Yeah, well, nobody knows where he is now, so don't worry about him any more. So that all explains the issue with the test... What about your... face?"
"I told you I don't want to talk about it."
"Come on Jared, I always told you my problems..."
"Hah! I highly doubt that. But, if it will make you stop lecturing, I'll tell. I got in a fight with Jeremy Robins."
"Jared! That buy's huge! Why would you do that?"
"You think I started it? I simply asked Anna a question; I didn't know she was his current girlfriend."
"His car is his girlfriend. His girl is his ride."
Jared almost smiled, but didn't. "Whatever. I know all about him."
"Well, did the school do anything?"
"It was off school grounds and long past time school ended. Nobody could have done anything if they were even around."
"So, what? You just come home after... that?"
"If you could call this home," Jared snorted.
"Jared..."
"No! Stop it! I'm sick of this, I'm sick of everything! Just get out and leave me alone!"
Derek obeyed. He walked out and closed the door quietly behind him. Clair was coming up the stairs. "What's wrong with Jared?" she asked.
"He's had a really bad day. I guess he'll talk more after he's cooled down."
Clair bought his lie. "Alright then, but make sure he knows when dinner is ready." As she walked away, Derek grumbled, "I wonder if he will even eat today."
Derek went downstairs shut down the computer and went into his room. Small tears began to wet his eyes. Jared was having it bad. He had taken the entire burden on himself when... It wasn't fair. None of it was fair. Only a day before they were having fun on the beach--he couldn't remember what they were doing--with no troubles at all. Afterwards, their entire world was shattered.

Jared sat silently, soaking in the loneliness of his room. His neatness had diminished, everything was a mess, but he didn't care. Other kids had rooms like this and they seemed to function just fine.
He stared silently at the blankness of the room, now seeming to be full of absolutely nothing worthwhile. His eyes turned outwards to the window. Out beyond Los Angeles and its lesser cities, the massive blue blanket stretched out into infinity, Having lived in Colorado for the first half of his life, the ocean remained a strange and foreign thing to him. It was absolutely huge, beyond anything he had ever seen before. He was amazed all the these people who lived next to it all the time took it for granted.
A car rolling into Clair's house caught his eye. It was shabby, an old taxi with a desperate need for new pain. it noisily came to a stop and the back door opened wide. out stumbled a tall man with greasy hair and dirty clothes. Jared scowled. Who was this?
He paid the driver a couple of bills and swaggered toward the house as the car drove off. When Jared saw is face, his scowl turned into a deathly glare. After more than a year of disappearing into nowhere, his cousin Chris was back.

Without knocking, Chris sloppily strode in shouting to the whole household, "Lucy, I'm home!"
Derek and Jared scoffed. What a terrible cliche. Apparently Chris had not gained a sense of originality while he was away.he also seemed to have forgotten the concept of showering or washing. Chris looked like one of those bums from downtown L.A., which he probably was. He sure smelled like one of them, and his attitude was certainly worse.
"Ah! I see my little cousins are still here... Haven't gotten around to applying for a job yet?"
"It doesn't look like you're doing too well yourself," Jared growled.
Chris smiled like the drunken fool he obviously was. "Yeah, well, at least I have been out in the real world."
"You know we're still in school, right?" Derek asked spitefully.
"Oh, right. Still in the high school phase, of course."
Aunt Clair came down the stairs, both irritate and ecstatic. "Chris, my boy, where in the world have you been?"
"Oh, Mom, I've been in town this whole time. Got myself some work and an apartment."
"So now you've decided to visit your dear old mother?"
"Well, sort of... I've kind of hit a rough patch in my life, and, well, I kind of need a place to stay."
"Oh," Clair paused, "I see... Well, you can have your old room again. There are a few things stored in there... But you can move them."
"Thanks, Mom," the twenty-year-old smiled.
The bum went into his room, having absolutely no luggage of his own. Derek and Jared walked slowly upstairs.
"Well, this day just keeps getting better," Jared whispered.
"He doesn't look very good."
"Hus looks aren't the worst thing about him," Jared corrected, He shivered in disgust. "I suddenly feel like going to bed."
"What about your homework?"
"Don't have any... Never really do."
"Well, isn't that something to be grateful for?"
"Shut up."
Derek was silent until they parted and entered their separate rooms. The sun was just setting, but for the both of them, the day was long past time to end.

Jared and Derek came home together from school, forsaking any social interaction. They walked through the door to find an unfamiliar, yet much expected sight. Chris lay strewn about on the den's couch, snoring away. Empty cans of beer and soda littered the floor, accompanied by dumped out bags of junk food.
"Huh," Jared flared. "Looks like Chris hasn't changed at all."
"Come one, Jared, ignore him."
"If he continues like this, nobody will have any food in this house, or any place relax."
"Jared," Derek began to change the subject. "Ca I ask your opinion about something?"
The elder brother's attention shifted to his sibling. "What? Let's go up to your room and talk."
When they had closed the door, Derek sat on his bed and Jared leaned against the closet.
"Well, what is it?"
Derek hesitated, wondering how he should word his thoughts. He decided to come straight out with it. "I want to go out for football."
Jared said nothing for a while, not sure he heard him clearly. "What was that?"
"I'm big enough, and I always like playing it with my friends in the park. I want to try high school football. What do you think?"
His brother shook his head in disbelief. "What do I think? Do you have any idea what you would be doing? Do you know what those jocks are like? they will tear you apart."
"Derek frowned. "I'm a big guy, I could take them."
"Do you have any idea what you'd be doing?" Jared repeated.
"Yeah, well, sort of... But that's just it,I want to learn. I think it would be a lot of fun."
"I doubt it. People like Jeremy have been playing in those leagues since they were three. You can't expect to suddenly just join the club without any background."
"I don't think it would be like that..."
"No? I'm a senior, Derek; I've been at the school a lot onger than you. I know how it all works there. I know how the other students are. You don't ahve a chance."
"But..."
"Do everyone a favor and save us all a bunch of grief. Don't do it, Derek. Don't leave yourself so open and vulnerable. Your life will be a lot easier for it."
"But I might regret how much fun it would be."
"Fun? Are you so naive?"
Derek's frown had grown a lot larger than Jared's. "I asked for your thoughts, Jared, and I guess I've got them now. You don't ahve to like it, but I'd really appreciate it if you could be supportive."
"Whatever," Jared shrugged carelessly.
"Mom and Dad would support my attempt."
"And guess what? They're gone."
"Jerry would, too."
"He's gone, too. You know that."
Derek rose. "I know you're upset, but don't you dare talk about them so thoughtlessly."
"Me? You're the one who brought them up. Don't you think I miss them, too? Don't you think I'm a wreck after it all?"
Derek's poise grew strong and erest in defiance and command. "We have nothing more to discuss. Now you leave!"
"Fine by me," Jared shrugged after he had turned and opened the door. When he was gone into his own room, Derek threw his head into his pillow and bawled.

The next week passed in misery and unhappiness, at least for the two brothers. Chris spent it all by eating, sleeping, and watching television each day, all day.
At the dinner table, Clair, Chris, and Jared sat silently. Derek should have arrived nearly half an hour ago. Chris sat in his usual haughty slouch. Clair sat oblivious to everything except the gradual loss of heat from the food she had prepared. Jared sat with a greatest silence of all, his face revealed nothing of how he felt. He was torn between annoyance at his brother's tardiness, yet concerned that something was very wrong.
At length, the door creaked open and Derek trudged in, looking as he did seven years: utterly beaten by sadness and pain.
"Well?" Aunt Clair asked. "How did the football thing go?"
"Wait, what?" Chris blurted stupidly. "Derek was trying out for football?What a laugh! But at least he was doing something."
Derek said nothing, but his eyes told enough.
"It went badly, didn't it?" Jared inferred. Derek looked at him with the most pitiful expression on his face.
"The coach was a jerk, and absolute douche." Derek never before had spoken so grim or rudely about somebody, and it shocked his brother. "Not only that, they using terms I had no knowledge of because I haven't really experienced such legitimate sports. The kids weren't better than the coaches either..." he trailed off.
Jared sat up straight. "It's exactly as I knew it would be. I told you before. You didn't listen."
"Shut up!" Derek shouted. "Don't act so glad for my problems. You didn't behave like this before, and I've never done so to you. I could have used a little support from any of you... But no, none of you even acknowledged that I was trying."
"What are you saying?" Aunt Clair asked. "I'm the person who would have been paying for it."
"So? You've been supporting this worthless bum for the past week," Jared interjected. "He's been costing you more than either of us."
"What's that you said, dirt bag?" Chris rose in indignation. "You're both just worthless children without any place in the world."
"Chris..." Aunt Clair started.
"No! They're going to listen. We didn't want you brats, but your worthless parents had to go and get themselves killed. So now we're stuck with you, and fine job of being grateful you've done. It's a good thing that other whelp died, too, or else we'd have another mouth to feed!"
Jared stood up, fork clenched tightly in his fist. His cousin's drunkenness wouldn't excuse him if he continued like this. He told him so.
"You bastard! It seems you forget who 'that other whelp' was!"
"What do you care?" Chris rose up himself. "He wasn't your brother!"
Jared snarled, "You shame that term! he was too good for you after all!"
All three adults yelled at each other until Aunt Clair broke into tears. At that point, everyone left to their rooms, disregarding the untouched dinner.Almost simultaneously, three doors slammed shut for the night.

Clair was still heavy with tears as she prepared herself for bed. Perhaps sleep was all everyone needed. A good night's rest would improve everyone's attitudes. Int he morning all would be right again. Jared and Derek would continue succeeding in school; Chris would continue his job search which he was hard at work at. Everything would be as it should be.
During the night however, she had trouble sleeping. She checked her clock. It was nearly three thirty in the morning. All of California should be asleep, figuratively speaking, of course.Still, something was wrong. She turned on her lamp. The old picture of her husband was illuminated. Clair smiled sadly for a moment, and then noticed the drawer beneath the lamp was disturbed. She opened it and covered her mouth with her hand. Her deceased husband's gun was missing.

The night was quiet for Jared, simply because he chose not to hear the other, irrelevant noises of the city. He stood alone, only watching the quiet tides slowly rise and fall.
Jared wasn't exactly sure where he was, but he felt for some reason he knew this place. It was like a small swimming pool, connected faintly with the rest of the global water, and completely hidden by the massive, dark rocks that piled carelessly atop one another.
The faintest light was rising over the horizon. Dawn was fast approaching. Jared had not interest in seeing another sunrise for one more day in this world. He had had it. For seven years he had endured each day, doing what he was "obligated" to do. Now he was done. He glanced thoughtfully down at the gun in his hands. It looked like such a simple instrument. And despite its various inner workings, its function and purpose was uncomplicated. It would make the pain stop. It would end his loathing and sorrow that awoke with him every morning and followed him to bed every night.
It's not like he deserved to keep breathing. Half his family was already dead, why maintain the rest? He wasn't even nice to his surviving family.
What a horrible person he had turned out to be! T top the failures and lack of sociality, he was the foulest to the one person who still cared for him, his brother. It was long past apologies. He had endured too long the ignorance of his oblivious aunt, the abuse of his wretched cousin, and his own guilt for his treatment of his brother. Now he had chance to do all of them a favor.
Jared raised the pistol to his head. He pushed the muzzle up to the temple and began to squeeze the trigger...
A tiny splash made him pause. It was probably nothing, but it did startle him. He brought down the gun and looked around for the source of the disturbance.in the dark, he saw nothing. The water was deep navy blue, there was not light that allowed him to see through it. If there was something there, he could not find it.
Jared assumed it was nothing to worry about and started again to bring the gun up. However, this time he was stopped abruptly when something pulled out his legs from under him. He fell wit a cry onto the slippery rock, and then roller into the night-chilled water. the cold came as a massive shock, but not as much as the feel of something long and smooth run by his legs.he cried out and sat up in the water that came up to his chest. He did not stand, for he had no desire to fall again. A girl popped out of the water in front of him. Something felt strange about seeing her.
"I knew you'd be back eventually!" she smiled.
"Huh?" Jared felt he must have really hit his head hard, for he noticed a long, green tail following her body. A mermaid? What the...?!
"She was about his age, and older teenager, and she looked a whole lot prettier than any of the girls at school.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"What do you mean?" the girl splashed his face. "You haven't forgotten me, have you?"
"I think I would remember meeting a mermaid before."
"Oh dear, it seems I may have hit you too hard... Your fall must have disrupted your memory."
"Look, Miss, I don't know you..."
"Sure you do!" Child-like arrogance puffed her cheeks. "I'm Selene, Jared. We played together almost seven years ago. You said you would have been back the following year. I've waiting so long for you guys to come back."
"Guys?"
"Sure. You, Derek, and Jerry..." She stopped when she saw his sorry face. "What's wrong? Where are the others?"
Thoughts began to piece together like a magic puzzle. Soon things became very clear and a tidal wave of realization and remembrance struck him.
"Selene! Now I remember you..."
"There we go!"
The shroud pf repressed childhood memories was finally lifted. With it, sudden and burning tears scalded Jared's eyes.
"What's wrong?" The mermaid came closer.
"Now I remember it all... The best day I ever had, followed by my worst..."
"Oh," Selene gasped softly and came very near him. "You can tell me what happened."
"I don't want to..." Jared sobbed, "I don't want to remember it..." He stopped when his old play-friend hugged him sympathetically. Her show of kindness loosened his tongue.
"We went home the day after we met you. We were excited for the next year to see you again. We didn't realize we never would. A drive on the freeway was yelling at his kids to stop pestering each other, or something like that. He slammed into our rear and pushed us over off an overpass. When I became conscious, I was being pulled from the wreck by paramedics. Hours later, in the hospital, they came and told me my mother, father, and our younger cousin, Jerry, had all died in the crash.
Selene said nothing. She simply embraced him again for comfort. Her body warmed the very deepest part of his soul.
"Derek and I were taken in by our Aunt Clair because she was the first to claim us. Her son, my cousin Chris, wasn't happy about it at all. He grew progressively vile the longer we stayed. He moved out a year ago, but now he's back to mooch off his mother."
"Where's Derek now?"
Tears welled in Jared's eyes. "I'm so ashamed of myself. As my life grew progressively worse, I also became abusive of my little brother. I didn't support him and I didn't listen to him... He was right about everything but I was too embittered by my life to understand."
"If you forgot all about me, why are you here now?"
"I remembered something about this place, but I didn't know what it was...I intended to..." Jared remembered the gun. He searched for it, but in wain. It was lost to the cool water, never to be found again.
"You were going to kill yourself?!" The mermaid's face was horrified at the idea.
"Yes," Jared answered shamefully. "I thought I would be doing right for everyone. I would be better... My pitiful like has lingered far past its time."
"How can you believe that? I think you're important..."
"No offense Selene, but we played together for one day. We don't know anything about each others' lives. I don't know why I've even been telling you all this."
"You're telling me because you need someone to talk to and to have understand. Nobody else would be that person, or so you led yourself to believe."
"Are you trying to make me feel better? It's not working. I realize that I've done to my brother. All e ever did was try to comfort me and try something that sounded fun to him. How did I treat him for it? I was worse than Chris ever was...because I was his older brother. He looked to me for his whole life, more so after our parents died...and Jerry..."
"Shh..." she put a finger to his lips to emphasize. She leaned her face in close to his and kissed him gently. "Things were beyond your control. Let me help you find life again, instead of ending it."
"I should be getting back," Jared spoke untruthfully, as he started to peek over the eastern horizon, like a nosy neighbor over a fence. The cold water became warm and pleasant, yet Jared continued to shiver, as if snow was falling in California. The sounds began to rise in the city while the lights went down, but neither of them noticed. They just stared at each other, learning everything they needed to know about the other through their eyes.
As the sun finally passed over the horizon and brightened the whole city, Selene wrapped her long emerald tail around Jared's shivering legs. Despite what is often said and believed about fish scales, he found her aquatic body much warmer and more enchanting than any human legs could ever be.

Derek looked up from the staring at the table when an abrupt pounding resonated at the front door. He walked quietly and cautiously to the door. On the mat stood a large police officer an a man he vaguely remembered seeing in an old picture. He was kind face, not very big, and nicely dressed.
He smiled. "You're Derek Andersen, aren't you?"
"Yeah... who's asking?"
"My name is Jacob Andersen. You can call me Uncle Jake."
Now Derek recognized him. This was his dad's younger brother, the Mormon that lived in Utah, whom they had rarely seen.
"Oh, hi..." Derek said. "Can I help you?" He regarded the officer with a suspicious glance.
"We're here to help you, son," the officer said.
"Yo! Football failure! Who's at the door?" Chris called from in the house. He strutted over to the door to see for himself. When he saw the police officer, Derek could have sworn his cousin soiled himself.
"Are you Christopher Moore?" the officer asked, knowing the answer already.
"Who's asking?" Chris squeaked.
Without another word, the officer burst in and placed a pair of handcuffs on Chris' wrists.
"What about my rights?" Chris whined.
As the officer proceeded with the usual arrest speak, Clair walked in. "What's going on here?" she asked.
The officer turned to her. "Don't worry, Miss Moore. For sheltering this drug-dealing murderer, you can come, too."
"Uhh... What's this all about?" Derek asked, dumbfounded by the sudden turn of events. Uncle Jake looked kindly at him.
"I've finally won the legal battles I promised my brother I'd fight. After much disputing with lawyers, I've finally gained custody of you and your brother."
"What?!" Clair shrieked. "First you arrest my son, now you're taking them? How? I am their legal guardian."
"Not any more," Jake unfolded a court statement. "The boys are to come with me now. This is no home for my brother's kids."
Chris snickered, gathering enough defiance to speak. "Well, you'll just be taking the one, bud. I saw Jared scuttle out last night with a gun in his hand." The officer tightened his grip on him ,forcing him to gasp.
Derek gaped. Then rage filled in him and he leaped across the foyer and assailed his wretched cousin. Uncle Jake and the police officer tried to pull him off, while Chris begged and wailed for him to stop. Derek stopped, not because he had recomposed himself, but because he then rushed up the stairs to Jared's room.
The officer held on to the crumpled and beaten Chris and took both him and Aunt Clair out to his car. Uncle Jake followed his distraught nephew upstairs.
When he opened the door to find his brother's room empty, Derek fell to his knees and wept. It was true, his brother was gone. Who knows where he could have gone to kill himself? It was too late now. As he cried, Uncle Jake knelt next to him and placed his arm across his shoulders. Despite hardly knowing him, Derek buried his face in his uncle's shirt and clung on to him tightly.
How could it end like this? Derek and Jared and been there for each other all this time. Now the one person Derek look up to was gone. He had tried to comfort his older brother before... He didn't realize Jared was so terribly depressed. If only they could have been more open to each other, more supportive. But it was too late now. Now they would never see each other again. Now Derek had only one relative left, a Mormon whom he had never known. Uncle Jake cried with his nephew empathetically, sharing the pain of having lost a dear brother.

Jared Andersen lay on a large, warm rock, the last of the mounds. Beyond lay the ever expansive ocean and his new life. Next to him, soaking in the golden warmth of the morning was the gorgeous Selene. She smiled as she lay still, swishing her tail lightly.
Jared looked at his bare body, still feeling a lingering sense of embarrassment at his nakedness. His drenched clothes sat abandoned on another rock, seemingly an eternity away.
"How much longer are we just going to sit like this?" he asked.
"Bored already?" Selene responded without opening her eyes.
"No... I little nervous, I suppose..."
Selene opened her glimmering eyes and rolled herself on top of Jared's Chest. She looked amusingly into his eyes and kissed him long and passionately.
Jared had never felt so overjoyed in his entire life. Last night he had reached his precipice, the last moment he could endure his depression. He had stood ready to throw his whole life away in a last ditch effort to end his pain. Now he was lying with the absolutely most beautiful person in the entire world, on land or sea. Now he had a chance to start anew.
His thoughts turned to his poor brother that he feared he was abandoning to the unkind world. Somehow, Selene sensed his concern.
"Your brother's going to live a long and happy life, Jared. You should be happy. He won't forget you any more than you'll forget him. Despite everything, you two stood by each other through your troubles. Now you both get to start again. Look!"
The human named Fared Andersen kissed his new love once more. Then he turned and was astonished. His two pale legs began to disappear. In their place, long and beauteous, was a brilliant azure tail.