The hungry little mermaid

Like all mermaids, she is blind.

Ping, ping, ping. The little mermaid has found a school of fish, and she follows it to the surface. Like all mermaids, she is blind and relies on sonar to navigate her world.

The dime-sized suckers on her palms make it easy to pluck fish from the water. She pulls one, squirming, into her mouth and takes a bite. She rolls it around on her tongue. No. She makes a face and spits it out. It’s stealthily sweet, like all the fish spawned around the groaning, shuddering fortress.

Her mother used to eat them by the armful. The more she ate, the more she craved. Now, her hands shake, and her tail quivers. She takes up less and less space every day.

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At first, the mermaids cheered when Men built the fortress. It exhaled warm, effervescent water they could gambol in, and its giant, echoing legs offered a place for plants to grow and fish to breed.

Then the shakes started. The ocean rolled and bent, causing ghostly vibrations that rendered the mermaids unable to tell up from down, and here from there. After an especially bad one, mother and daughter lost each other for weeks, plunging both into premature mourning.

Soon after they reunited, the fish turned sweet, the small ones followed by the bigger ones. Mother ate more, so she sickened faster. But the little mermaid knows that she, too, is tainted. Her tail jangles with random shocks, like stings from an overeager jellyfish.

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The little mermaid is starving. Everything she puts into her mouth tastes like oblivion. Even the seaweed has an odd, metallic flavor that warns of creeping death. She doesn’t like her choices. Eat and get sicker, or don’t eat and starve.

She is eyeing a wary eel when she spots two Men in their rubbery shells. Mother says they’re like hermit crabs. Underneath their tough outer membrane, they’re soft and vulnerable. They look plump and well-fed. They move slowly. She wonders how they might taste.

The little mermaid drifts towards them, hair streaming around her face like an invitation. One of the men kicks towards her, an eager frog. Siren, he mouths, although it means nothing to her. She lets him wriggle into her arms. He relaxes for a moment and thrashes wildly once her intentions become clear.

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The little mermaid takes a bite of pink, soft flesh. Warm blood stains the water. She chews and cocks her head. She wants to scream. This new meat is poisoned, too.