jamjar

Last one! W00t!

Roughly inspired by the stuff on this site, which is pretty cool and worth a look.

It was cold enough that the bottom of the mermaid's tail touched the ice that circled the bottom of the rock. She combed her hair with long, pale fingers before leaning back, sleek silver tail balancing her on the rock. The scales stretched up, curving around her waist, covering her belly, where Sophie had silver-stretch marks across her own. She froze and the sound of pebbles sliding down the beach was swallowed by the regular hungry roar of the waves.

The mermaid noticed them and waved. Sophie held her son tighter when he reached towards the mermaid and stayed where she was, feet as firmly planted as she could on the stony beach. The mermaid smiled at her, showing sharp, triangular pointed teeth and wriggled her fingers at Dylan. She was old enough, Sophie guessed, to have children of her own, even if her body would never show it in a thicker waist or the small scarring of pregnancy. Breasts for milk, but no navel, just a smooth and lightly scaled flat stomach.

There was a reason why most fisherman threw mermaids back, when they'd keep other treasures caught in their net.

Dylan wriggled, desperate for freedom, but Sophie knew better than to let him crawl about on a beach. He had no fear of the sea and his baby fat wasn't thick enough to keep him from freezing in it, and she'd probably catch her death going in after him.

It wasn't tempting. Not enough.

Dylan whined, starting to grizzle and the mermaid called out, high-pitched and carrying. It probably wasn't meant to be mocking, probably was meant to soothe Dylan's frazzled temper, but it failed on both counts. Dylan started to cry out and the mermaid gave an apologetic shrug and slid back into the water like a seal sliding down from the rocks.

It was too much and Sophie turned and ran back to land. Stupid to come back here, when she knew she could never go far enough. The coldness that never quite left was back in force and when she hugged her son, she felt guilty, leeching his warmth from him. She tugged her mittens off and ran a hand over his forehead, trying to rub away the frown-line. He choked a little, glaring at her, but calmed down. The white lines that ran between her fingers reminded her of the ones he'd given her, red lines that looked almost like the ripples on the sea behind her, then faded to a pale silver web after birth. Another set of marks across her body that detailed its past to anyone that cared to look. The blue wool of her coat sleeve made her hands look paler, made her son's eyes greyer in comparison.

He batted at her, rough palms catching her scarf.

Sophie clenched her fingers into fists and thought about scars and family.