Mermaid Bay

A tremor runs through you upon sighting it for the first time, like a wave cresting over the surface of the sea, until you realize the gooseflesh rising on your arms is the only visible burst of movement in this place. You shut your eyes against it for a moment, blinking away the lovely expanse of color spreading towards a lone, densely wooded island on the horizon. You can’t help yourself from leaving that massive system of climbing trees behind and stepping onto a sloping dune of pillow-soft sand that cushions your feet even as you begin to slide towards the water’s edge. Small wooden boats lay overturned, covered in vines and branches, as if someone intentionally hid it away here to wait for you. Whether you clamber into the boat and use the oars or you splash in the blue for a swim, the cool water welcomes you. The depth plunges immediately, soft sand giving way to open water as you begin to notice giant monuments and statues beneath the surface that reach their hands up towards the brightness all around you. Light tiptoes across the water, almost perfectly still and undisturbed save for the way it gently breaks and reshapes itself around massive bubbles, sent up by creatures unseen. As you travel over those still waters, some may catch a glimpse of the massive tail propelling something scaled towards the bay’s cooler depths.