The Mermaid, the Pirate and the Octopus

She had six fingers on one hand and two fingers on the other. The hand with fewer fingers only had an index finger and a thumb. Yet, her hands typed faster than anybody else’s, which made her good at her job. The lack of normalcy also gave Mara an extra sense. She had an extra nose to sniff the character of people, a sixth sense of sorts. She always said that people emanated their convictions every time they walked and talked. And despite being born in a less fortunate position than others, she never complained about her life. She never complained even though she was also allergic to the air and to the sun. That cruel and soulless air, carrying spores and germs and mites, hit her face every morning. It reminded her that she wasn’t welcomed in the world. Despite everything, she opened her window every day, happy to be slapped in the face by life. Mara welcomed the sun and the air with a smile, scrunching her nose, bracing herself for a fit of sneezes and rashes.

That morning, when she looked out of her bedroom window, the wind brought with it the smell of the sea. Surprisingly, it also brought with it some sand, even though she lived deep inside the land. Her allergies stopped, for the first time in many years. Ecstatic, she looked at the park below, where children were playing. And she felt a pang of nostalgia because she was never able to play freely outside like them, chasing pigeons. ‘Come here, street chicken!’, they screamed as they ran in circles. And she chuckled, laughing at them and thinking of the day ahead.

That day, Mara had to interview a bishop. Her magazine wanted her to write a story about the myths surrounding the Holy Week. She read stories and myths all night long. One myth struck her the most. Don’t enter the sea or any pool during the Holy Week, unless you want to become a fish. It was supposed to be a curse, but to her, the idea of becoming a fish sounded appealing. She was allergic to the air and to the sun, after all. She could be free under the sea, swimming in whirlpools of water, and swirling with bubbles as she heard the ocean sing. Though she wouldn’t like to become an odd creature like Rene Magritte’s Reverse Mermaid, a surrealist painting that depicted the grey head of a fish pasted to the long legs of a woman.

On her way to the interview, Mara stopped to buy her morning coffee. She stopped at her closest Starbucks and got in line behind the rest of the early risers. As she was explaining her order, two baristas serving other customers smashed their heads against each other, spilling a jar of hot coffee all over Mara. As an apology, they gave her a free cup of coffee and a bag full of cups, water bottles and jugs. All bearing the iconic two-tailed mermaid logo. Once outside the coffee shop, as she walked hurriedly over the asphalt streets, Mara bumped against a man selling postcards. The man cursed and huffed and puffed. Several postcards fell to the floor, but one fell farther away from the others. Somehow, it reminded her of herself. Always far from everyone else. Always detached. Always alienated. So, she picked the postcard up.

The postcard depicted a Japanese painting and large strokes of blue paint and seafoam surrounded a woman. The woman was under the sea and she had her head arched backward. She seemed to be enjoying herself. There was a large octopus between her legs. Hi tentacles curled around her legs, squeezing them, as his beak sucked her ripe fruit. He was the source of the woman’s ecstasy, making her squirm with pleasure. A smaller octopus sucked and fondled the woman’s breasts. The whole painting exuded sensuality and all the mysteries of the sea. It resonated deeply with her soul, like a breeze of fresh air in the silent minutes of the night. There was a small description in the lower left corner of the postcard, ‘The Dream of the Fisherman’s Wife.’ Also known as the Girl Diver and the Octopuses. Woodblock-printed design by Japanese artist Hokusai. Some contemporary viewers interpret it as Princess Tamatori being pursued by God Ryujin’s creatures’.

The painting resonated with Mara. With all the sea trapped inside her heart. It resonated so deeply with her that she had an entranced look on her face when the postcard seller asked her to give him his postcard back.

“Miss, that will be 20 cents, please,” the seller asked.

She looked for money inside her purse. She found a one-dollar bill crumpled inside her wallet. She hurriedly gave it to the seller and rushed to her interview. She didn’t care about asking for change. She just kept thinking about all the weird things that had happened to her that morning.

She hailed a taxi. It wasn’t an approved yellow cab, but a pirate taxi. A green SUV with the taxi logo stuck on top; a taxi that lacked approval from the law. She didn’t have enough time to wait for a regular cab, so she went inside, and sat in the backseat. She spent some minutes looking at the postcard in her hand. The postcard’s theme felt ominous after her odd experience with the morning breeze that tasted like salt. She was ruminating over these things when it started to rain. The rain was strong and large droplets fell loudly against the windshields of the taxi. She looked outside and realized that the wind was blowing so strongly that some nearby mango trees were bending back and forth under the rain. Mangoes flew in the wind, surrounded by rain, painting with orange traces the grey canvas of the atmosphere. As the minutes passed, the rain grew stronger and stronger. Then there was thunder.

“The storm today is really strong,” she said, trying to make some conversation with the taxi driver.

They were stuck in traffic. Some drivers had decided to stop driving in the middle of the streets because the water levels were raising.

“Yeah, it is. It looks like it’s going to flood. What a way to spend Holy Friday.”

She looked outside. Water was pooling near the drainages, swirling in muddy whirlpools. The water dragged tree branches and trash along with it. People were rushing up and down the streets, covering themselves with raincoats and umbrellas. Most drivers were maneuvering around to avoid the pooling waters, and some even parked their cars on the sides of the road. They were close to the harbor and she could see the waves crash against the seafront.

“Miss, do you want to stop in some nearby shop? If we keep driving like this, we’re going to go head-on into the flood”

“No. Please keep driving. I have somewhere important to go.”

She took out her phone and texted the bishop. She was never going to be able to make it on time, so she decided to tell him not to wait outside. At that moment, a red umbrella slipped from a woman’s hand and smashed against the taxi driver’s door. He kept driving and it kept raining. And there was more thunder. The level of water around them was raising. It nearly covered half of a nearby car’s wheels. Soon, the cars around them started to float as they continued to plow through.

“Miss, we need to leave the car now. The water is going to trap us in.”

She refused. She had a deep sense of responsibility. She feared losing her job. The driver feared losing his life. They argued for some minutes. Finally, the driver resolved to let her drive. He opened the front door and climbed onto the roof of the car.

“Miss, you should avoid touching the water!”, he shouted. “Remember that it’s Holy Week. You could become a fish!” She rolled her eyes, tired of hearing religious superstitions.

“Don’t worry about me! I’ll manage just fine!”

The taxi driver left, jumping from one car to the next, leaving her alone. Driving without a clear direction and heading towards the storm. After a few minutes of driving, she felt the car being pushed forward. A river had formed in the street. And the taxi was now a green boat whose pedals didn’t respond under her feet. She panicked.

She no longer had control of the car or its direction. And the ocean seemed closer and closer. Soon, water started pushing its way in. Water soaked her clothes and covered the front seats in muddy liquid. She could no longer see her feet. So she used all her strength to push the door open and she thrust her body outside, facing the wide wild world. Since she didn’t care about the superstitions, unlike everybody else, she decided to make her way through the waters. The water reached her waist and it pushed hard against her skin. The waters were a wild beast that pulled her against her will, dragging her towards the ocean. She fought the currents, but she felt powerless. For every step she took, the water pushed her back two steps. She gave in and let the waters take her away.

She felt the road rushing underneath her, as she was thrust frantically over the seafoam. Water swirled around her, pushing her down. Pulling her to the depths of the harbor. Pulling her down because she didn’t know how to swim. She looked at the sky and she saw thunder. But she had lost her war. And she let herself fall. And darkness enveloped her. All air left her lungs. She was asphyxiating, bubbles rushed past her, searching for the surface. Unlike them, she was sinking. Her body weight pulling her towards the confines of the Caribbean Sea. When she thought death was about to come upon her, a strange sensation invaded her body.

Her skin burned. It was worse than her worst fit of rashes. It felt like pins crawling under her meat, ripping her body apart. The skin of her neck burned the most. Then, with athe  bolt of a lighting, thea current of  water current slit her throat. She thought she must be dying . But she wasn’t. New life came upon her. Her lungs expanded. She touched her throat and discovered, amazed, that she now had gills. She inhaled deeply, letting water in. Freshwater invaded her body. She had never enjoyed inhaling before. The air had always harmed her,. bBut the water didn’t. And all she could feel was joy. For the first time in her life, she experienced freedom, and she felt a strong urge to explore what was ahead of her. She tried pushing water with her legs. And then she realized that each of her legs had been replaced with a fishtail. She stopped to handle her shock. She was now a two-tailed mermaid, like the logo of Starbucks.

She remembered Captain Henry Morgan’s lost galleons. How some of his thirty-six pirate ships were lost deep in the sea, near the mouth of the Chagres River. How five of them sank in the middle of a storm, carrying all the gold and silver from Mexico and Peru, and all the treasures he stole from the New World. She also remembered that the Encarnacion merchant ship slept placidly between the waters somewhere in the Portobelo harbor. It had sunk in 1681 carrying tons of swords and gold. The dsea and depths of the ocean jingled with gold, and she felt the need to find it.

So, she swam, with exhilarating pleasure, pushing water with her brand-new tails. Letting water rush in through her gills. Fish swam fast past her, fleeingrunning away[2]  from the storm’s water, that brought the city’s trash from the city with it. The ocean was in chaos. It was hard for her to see. Yet, somehow, she could feel the sweet, fresh-water of the Chagres flowing between the salt water, and she used this current as a guide. She swam past the whirlpools were the salt-water meets the freshwater, mixing the sea with the jungle. She swam past alligators that battled to trap in their teeth the fish confused bywith the rain waters. She swam past all the logs that the river had brought. And there, on the ocean floor, enclosed by clouds of sand and pastures of algae, lay the Encarnacion, bearing all the mysteries of three centuries.

Long strands of algae danced around the old ship. The giant, wooden carcass exhaled like an old castle tired of its solitude. Mara approached the sunken galleon , and even though most of its structure was in ruins, and some of it was covered by lime and sand, she found a door. She pushed the door, whichand it led her into a passage, and at the end of itthe passage  was a small room. Bivalves stuck to the walls of the corridor, and it was dark inside, asnd currents of water sang with the ocean. No fish came near herswam by her side. Near the entrance of the room, the ocean fell silent. The quietness made her uneasy, for she had gotten accustomed to the ocean roaring above her head. Somehow, she felt she was being watched.

Inside the room, there was an old, wooden desk. Corals grew on top of it. She swam towards it, to explore its structure, and she wondered if she could at least find some oysters bearing pearls. She was studying the corals when a rush of water and bubbles swooshed around the room. She was enveloped in darkness. Thick, dark clouds swirled around her, leaving her confused and disoriented. Something hit her in the head with an empty sound. A giant bell rang inside her head and all the weight of the water fell upon her. She lost consciousness.

When she woke up, she was lying on top of the desk, resting between the corals. Hiding in a corner was a gGiant oOctopus, curled over itself to fit inside the ship. Its skin was of a dark pink shade and it looked soft to the touch. Neon, blue ringlets shone against the pink background of its skin, making it look like a hypnotic surrealist painting. His two eyes like orbs studied her every movement.

“Who are you?”, she asked. It was the first time she muttered words underwater. She wasn’t sure the creature could understand her, but she tried.

I’m a warrior of God Ryujin, the creature replied. Though she couldn’t say he was speaking. He was rather talking to her mind. Communicating telepathically with her. Forcing her to accept his truth, one word at the time.

God Ryujin? Those words sound familiar, she thought. She spent some minutes pondering this. Then she remembered reading about the god in the postcard she had bought that same morning. So many things had happened that day that she had lost track of time. It felt like ages. God Ryujin’s creatures pursued Princess Tamatori. Until the princess fell deep into the octopi embrace, as was depicted in the painting, with her head arched backward deep under the sea.[3] 

Why are you here? The Octopus asked this time, interrupting her thoughts.

“I remembered about Henry Morgan’s lost galleons, so I came to see what was left behind.”

Are you lost in the lust of gold? If so, swim far away from here! For none of it can lay in your hands! It all belongs to the kingdom of Ryujin and it can’t fall upon the desires of a man! The Octopus’ voice roared inside her head. His eyes shone in the middle of the dark waters and all his blue rings titillated alive.

“I think I’m no longer human. And if I ever was, I was not a man, but a woman. And somehow, I think I was destined to come here.this far”

The Octopus remained silent for some timeminutes, looking at her tails, and looking at her gills.

I know some like you. Ningyo. Fish Human. Tough, you seem too beautiful for your kind. They usually have faces like monkeys, with large, pointed teeth, and they have membranes, like frogs, in their hands. Their voices sound like irritable flutes, but yours sounds just fine, he said.

“Do you think I’m beautiful?"?”, she asked. Nobody had ever complimented her. She didn’t think someone ever looked past her hands. People flinched in terror when they saw her deformities, and if they smiled, they were just being polite. She was always treated like a monstrous creature, despised for her hands.

You would be the most beautiful maid in the court of the Ningyo, because your face is so human-like. Though precisely because of that you may not be well-received. They would never accept someone who’s so different from their kind. You’re better off in your own world. Why are you here after all?

“I was cursed by the Gods of men. I touched water on a day I wasn’t supposed to, so I was dragged far away from the land.”

Nonsense! You must have a deeper truth to have left the land of the walking. Dig deep inside yourself.

“What do you mean?”

I can’t tell you with explicit words. But if you’re here, it’s because you weren’t deeply attached to your world;, and you were easily dragged away from the land. The waters can only bring with them the plants that don’t cling strongly to the earth. Why weren’t you rooted deep into the land?

“I couldn’t, she thought.  I couldn’t because everyone rejected me. And even though I tried to welcome the day with a smile, things never changed. I never felt fully alive. The air hurt me, the sun hurt me, and everyone made fun of me. Even though I smiled at everyone, even though I was nice to everyone, even though I was the best at my job, nobody ever liked me.”

But were you at least being true to yourself? Did you ever show them how you really felt? He asked. She had forgotten that he could infiltrate deep into her thoughts. Thus, she had no privacy at that moment.

“It no longer matters. I can’t ever go back to the world of the walking. I’ve been cursed.”

You weren’t cursed. You were just detached. You didn’t have roots , and the waters dragged you away. I could make you go back to the world of the walking. I can bring you up to the surface in the same way that I dragged Tamatori deep into the sea. Though this is something you must decide for yourself.

She thought about the painting of Princess Tamatori. About how Ryujin had ordered all his sea creatures to pursue and hunt Tamatori after she had stolen a pearl from his hands. And she thought about how the sea creatures, two octopuses, had tricked her to remain underwater by pleasuring her. She also thought about her life above the water. Above how her body hurt every morning, and her heartabout how deeply  ached her heart, suffering in solitude. Maybe the oOctopus was right. Maybe nobody liked her because she wore an armor around her heart, like an oyster shell protecting a pearl. Maybe people didn’t see past her hands because she wasn’t open about her feelings and because she never showed her heart.

“Do you think that, if I try and then don’t succeed setting roots in the land of the living, I can return to your land?”

Just try, always try. But yes, you’re always welcomed among Ryujin’s kind.

 Once the Octopus said this, he enveloped her. Then, he used two of his tentacles to pin her arms against the ocean floor. She felt the coldness of the sand against her back. And she saw the light shining high above, a turquoise kaleidoscope dancing with the music of the wind. Two of his tentacles curled around her tails, holding them in place. He pulled her wide apart, revealing her inner depths. The ocean and the waters were cold, but his tentacles were warm. Warm and strong. And they sucked her skin softly, planting a thousand kisses at oncee time, one kiss per sucker. Shivers ran down her spine. The octopus started caressing her lips gently with one of his tentacles. Sliding it up and down. She felt the warmth and the freshness of her own juices bathe her, and her juices mixed with the lushness of the ocean seafoam. Sweet mangoes with crisp sand. And then, he started rubbing her clitoris. The ocean roared above her head. All her senses focused on the nerves between her legs. Water danced around her. She felt her clitoris getting erect and tender, and warm and sensitive. The ocean roared again, matching her joy. She smiled. BubblesSeafoam swirled and crashed and burst. His tentacles rubbed her faster. First in diagonal motions, and then drawing circles. She felt another the first shiver run down her spine, like ice liquifying over her skin. The oOctopus fondled her breasts. Her mouth ran dry, dry like the desert. And her back arched back, arched so farback she saw the beginnings of the universe. And she smiled in sweet agony. Writhing with pleasure.

The oOctopus then sank his head between her legs. Glitter and sand danced in unison. Her back arched again. The wind and the moon roared. One of his tentacles slowly started finding its way inside her. Hot water springs fumed, bursting bubbles to the rhythmconfines of the universe. The tingling and the warmth intensified. And she felt the warmth build up once again and explode, painting the ocean ceiling with shards of her ecstasy. Her body welcomed the fullness, and she started rocking her hips back and forth. She remembered standing alone at night, watching incredulously the sky incredulously. Her hips started flexing frantically again. It was all real, and fast, and raw. She thought again about the sky, the wide, infinite sky that hid all of life’s wonders. The swaying movement made his tentacle caress the front wall of her insides. She melted inside with the infinite sky due to the light of aa thousand of suns. The ocean roared with her, and pressinged against her skin. She felt like an eternal creature stealing the mysteries of the night. She had an ominous feeling that the entire ocean was watching them. But she didn’t care. She couldn’t care. She was no longer in control of her body. She leaned her head back again as she lost control of her hips. Bubbles, bubbles flew pressed frantically [4] around her and inside her. Popping excitedlyfrantically, bursting icily all over her skin. Her body danced in a sweet frenzy exacerbated by the pleasure of the tenderness inside her. Iced, punctuated explosions of pleasure. She started squeezing the nearby stones with her hands. And she pulled at the surrounding sand while more moans came out of her mouth. Moans that mixed with the hum of all underwater currents. Her moans were louder than the roar of the ocean, louder than the wind singing with all its might above. Her mouth was dry, dry like an aged wine.

As the hours went by, her hips swayed with the mysteries of the ocean. Her hips danced with the vibrations of his tentacles. Shivers exploded down her spine. Waves exploded against the rocks. She couldn’t help the moans that accompanied the increasing speed of his motion. Whirlpools of bubbles made sand fly. She arched her back a thousand times. Stars were reflected in the ocean sky.

Light and depths and sounds melted.

She looked above. The ceiling of the ocean looked closer and closer. Soon, her skin kissed the stars that were reflected on top of the waters. The lights of the city danced over the ocean among the glitter of the universe. She looked below, to the deep, dark waters. And she could see the blue ringlets of the Octopus moving farther and farther away from her hands. As she looked down, she caught a glimpse of her legs and noticed that they were no longer covered with scales. She touched her neck, and she no longer had gills. The city shone with its orange lights against the dark skies, and the moon shone brightly above her. The Octopus had left her close to a wooden deck in the harbor. She clung to a large pillar and found a staircase some feet away from her. When she finally climbed up to the streets, shethe found the green pirate taxi lying upside down on the sidewalk in a curb. The streets were deserted. The wind blew quietly after the storm. Mara knew what she had to do.