Mermaids are strange…

(Reading time: Approximately 6 minutes)



Pretend you don’t see ‘em, all wet caught out in the rain.

Pretend you don’t see ‘em, hobble’n up the shore like they’re half-drowned, with the clothes twisted about ‘em as if in pain.

Aye, that’s one of the ways you know it’s ‘em! Never mind the darkness and the rain and the strange ways they hobble up from the waves…

It’s the way the clothes never quite fit ‘em right, always too big or too small. Aye, the clothes of drowned man, just never, never fit ‘em right!

Aye, that’s how you know it’s ‘em alright.

Tis been said, it’s the clothes that can make a man, but it’s the clothes too that let you know it’s not a man! The way the clothes just drip about ‘em…sopp’n wet…wear’n ‘em sometimes backwards or inside out; or even upside down! Or, wear’n just a shirt and forget’n to put on the pants!

Aye, you never know just what they’ll do…

But always the same, they never, never wear any shoes!

But what can you do?

When mermaids are strange, so very strange!

Mermaids steal the clothes off any a drowned man, and when the next pour’n rain comes round – drown’n the shore, aye, the mermaids come ashore!

Look’n like the dead just risen, they splash about struggle’n out from under the waves and throw’n ‘emselves upon the land, twist’n and lurch’n!

Horribly, they try to stand wear’n their soak’n pants, and melt’n shirts, sometimes even a drip’n hat…

Aye, that’s how you know its ‘em alright!

Once, you’ve seen it – you’ll never forget it – the strange lurid sight of ‘em struggle’n to wear their stolen wet clothes! Aye, they look more like they’re half-drowned; but, still they come aground – so thirsty!

And then they come hobble’n like they do with their naked feet stumble’n through the sand and grit; as they find their way up the beach and with haunted, wet steps and an ache’n thirst, they follow the town lights…

Their eyes so large and full of darkness wild with desire, or maybe some deep despair that only they can bare. But, still they come ashore, soaked to their skins but thirsty, oh, so very thirsty!

And on a night like this, with the pour’n rain…

Aye, here they come now, walk’n through the rain…

That wet, sloppy, slip’n sound just there – just outside the door – is ‘em. But don’t open the door; let ‘em go elsewhere! Maybe to the tavern where they’ll all go in stink’n of seaweed and drip’n wet – want’n a beer. Aye, mermaids love beer!

Remember, tis a wise sailor who always pours beer over the side of his boat, lest a mermaid come near!

Because real mermaids don’t sit on rocks in the sunlight look’n pretty combe’n their sunlit hair; no, no not at all.

Because real mermaids are strange!

Creatures of the abyss, water and darkness are theirs. And so pale they must avert ‘emselves from the very sun! Why a single ray of golden sunlight would blind ‘em – if they ever saw it! And one touch of the warm sun would turn their cold, wet bodies to a blistered ash! Much less make pretty their hair.

And they don’t really have hair anyways, not really, just those long, sleek fin like maines that flow from their heads down their neck and all the way down their backs…

Aye, it looks soft and flow’n enough like hair; but don’t you dare touch it! Sure enough, it can flex like a swordfish’s fin – and cut through a man like he was noth’n but a wave!

Aye, mermaids are strange…

And only when the sky is dark and wet like a deep black ocean full of the fall’n rain do the mermaids rise – rise from their sunken pain in the abyss.

Only then, when the sky is as black and wet as a midnight in the sea – can they turn their scaly fish tail to a pair of stiff fumble’n legs of pale skin and bone!

And rise up like the dead from the waves and dare to come up the shore struggle’n up on the beach the way they do.

Drag’n ‘emselves up the shore like they do; stumble’n the way that they do – just like they had two broken feet…trip’n over ‘emselves…

Aye! That’s ‘em!

And wear’n the clothes the way they do…

The soak’n wet, dead man’s clothes!

And with their haunted naked steps and terrible thirst –

they come ‘round – follow’n the lights to town.

So damn thirsty for a beer!

Aye, mermaids love beer!

Why more then once a man in our town…drunk…as many a men are in this town…for God knows the strange things we’ve seen in this town…make a man want to be drunk!

But end up too drunk, and you’ll end up drowned…and just like the ones we’ve already found!

Well, when we find ‘em…it’s always the same…we find ‘em naked, stripped bare of everyth’n save the blanket of water that drowned ‘em!

And where did their clothes go? But taken by a mermaid’s cold-wet hands of course!

For who else would want a drowned man’s clothes? Save a mermaid who wants to walk ashore…

Aye, mermaids are strange!

And a week or two goes by…sometimes a bit more, sometimes a bit less…much less, in rainy season like this, when a storm sweeps up the shore like it is tonight!

And you can be sure, one of those mermaids will come walk’n up the shore; wear’n the wet guy’s clothes! Soak’n pants and melt’n shirt, maybe a drip’n hat, and never, never wear’n any damn shoes!

And to the tavern, it will go…she or he or whatever the hell it is…

You know you can never tell…because they can’t all be mermaids! Some have got to be mermen ain’t they? Aye, but don’t they look strange and pretty all the same!

Aye, if you like that sort of thing…

And many a lonely men do!

And into the tavern, the strange and pretty creature will go – all stink’n of seaweed and wet with ocean and rain, and maybe shed’n a tear for a dead man!

All while look’n for a beer…

Aye, mermaids love beer!

But what can you do?

When mermaids are so strange?

Why I’ve heard it told by some others ‘round here, say they seen it too, that ‘em mermaids can swim straight up into the fall’n rain – hold’n their arms flat against ‘emselves and shimmy straight up – leap’n out of the ocean waters and up into the wet sky! All the way up to the pour’n rains’ dark clouds, not even a’fear’n the threat of a strike of light’n blister’n their shiny scales white hot with its’ flicker’n blazes!

But, I dunno…

I kind of doubt all that!

But, then again, you never know with mermaids just what they’ll do.

And don’t you doubt that!

Aye, but what can you do?

When mermaids are strange…

But, just be warned if you be so poor and unfortunate yourself to be near at sea in a midnights rain – and if you ever see someone awash in the waves a’wave’n to you – aye, don’t you be a’fooled into think’n to come rescue ‘em; just avert your eyes, forget you ever seen ‘em – lest you fall prey to a mermaid!

And if on some dark wet night you find ‘em ashore and they’ve already opened the tavern door – well then, aye, you best buy ‘em beer.

Because mermaids love beer!

But what can you do?

When mermaids are strange…




Originally Published February 12th 2017.

Image credit: Cover design and layout Bambootrance. Cover photos courtesy of Pixabay.Com/ User: Freepht, and photo effects by User: Comfreak)


One thought on “Mermaids are strange…

  1. It looks like quite a few bloggers like this. I print out all your writings and soon I will have my own little book!!

    Love you XOXO

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