A shadow passed overhead as a massive and graceful creature silently slid by. Goldie looked up, recognizing at once the familiar silhouette of a particular humpback whale, her enormous body cruising through the water with unlikely elegance. Without fear, she swam upward, approaching the magnificent creature. It regarded her patiently, with an ancient, knowing eye as she swam alongside it for a moment, matching its pace.
Welcome back, daughter of the deep,Kitty seemed to say, though no words were spoken. Goldie felt the meaning in her bones, in the water between them.
The whale continued on its journey as Goldie dove once more toward the mysterious music. It was clearer now. She heard voices singing in a language she didn’t consciously recognize, but their song resonated with her soul.
Time lost meaning as she explored the depths of the channel. Throughout her explorations, the water continued to embrace her, guiding her gently, showing her the wonders it had to share and welcoming her home. Though she was alone, she felt no fear. Only a newfound sense of belonging so profound it brought tears to her eyes. But those tears had no way to fall. They instantly became one with the surrounding sea, and the sea seemed only to hold her closer, as if it understood. As if it was equally moved by her presence.
She wasn’t sure where she was going, or meant to go, but each time she wandered off course, the current seemed to corral and correct her, gently showing her the way. It was bringing her closer to the music. And it was also as if the music itself pulled her along, growing louder and more enchanting the closer she got. She kept following, drifting farther out into the channel, curious to discover its source.
Suddenly, a deep, resonant horn blasted overhead, snapping Goldie out of her trancelike state. She darted upward, breaking the surface just in time to see the massive hull of a container ship passing by, dangerously close to her. The ship’s engines churned the water, creating a violent, unnatural turbulence that tore her away from the current’s tender hold, and pushed her into colder, lonelier waters.
Heart racing, Goldie lingered at the surface, watching the enormous vessel slip into the night, dark smoke leaving a scar across the sky as it passed. She’d been so entranced by the underwater world that she’d lost track of where she was. Looking around, she could only barely make out Catalina Island’s silhouette in the distance, shrouded in evening mist. She’d swum out at least a dozen miles, possibly more. So much farther than she’d realized.
The distant music still whispered to her from the depths, begging her to continue exploring, to follow it to its source. But as the adrenaline from her near miss with the ship faded, another reality began to resurface in her mind.
The film festival. Her responsibilities. She couldn’t simply abandon them. The film institute was counting on her to run the antique projector. This was a skill few modern souls possessed. They couldn’t get just anyone to do it. And her cottage, her art creations, the life she’d built... While it might be a human life, it was stillherlife.
Plus, she was proud that her films were being featured in the film festival. She was curious how modern audiences would respond toThe Mermaid’s Whisper. And the magical lost footage… if she allowed that to be screened. What would the modern audience make of it?
Goldie took one long look in the direction the music came from, memorizing its call.Another time, she promised silently.Soon.Then she turned and began swimming back toward Catalina, her powerful tail propelling her through the water with magnificent speed.
The sky was darker now. The moon hid behind dark clouds. Night settled across the open water like a thick black curtain. But Goldie still knew the way home. Tiny lights studded the island, guiding her.
As she swam through the inky waters, fragmented images began to flicker across the screen of her mind.
A darkly handsome face looking down at her with intense eyes. A nervous interview in the privacy of her dressing room, between scenes. She wore a beaded slip. He had introduced himself as “Montgomery.” A pseudonym, he’d admitted. She recalled a scene at a nightclub, hands touching beneath the table, lingering and touching, while polite conversation continued as normal above.
The images came and went too quickly to grasp. It was like trying to catch smoke. It was there. Then it was gone.
But the closer she got to shore, the denser and more frequent the memory flashes became. By the time the island’s features became distinct, Goldie was certain she was remembering Cosimo. Not as the mysterious stranger from recent days, but as someone she had once known more intimately. Someone she had loved.
She was almost upon the island now, and this presented her with a new problem. Goldie was unsure what transformation would await her when she reached land. She couldn’t simply swim ashore naked in the middle of Avalon, could she? And what would happen to her when she did reach land? What if she couldn’t transform into a human again? What if she remained this way now?
Cautiously, she swam toward Lover’s Cove, a secluded stretch of marine-protected waterfront close to town. She hoped the deserted location might offer her some privacy for whatever changes awaited her.
Goldie swam until her hands touched land. Then, with some effort, she pulled herself up onto the narrow strip of rocks just beyond the reach of the waves. As it had when she entered the water, the change began almost immediately. But this time, there was pain.
A sharp, searing sensation shot through her tail as it began to split. Goldie gasped, collapsing back onto the wet sandy rocks as the transformation reversed itself. With each wave of pain came a rush of memories, as if her mind was healing, as her body was torn apart.
A dressing room at Tantamount. 1929. Her wardrobe assistant informed her that “Montgomery Pierce,” claiming to be a reporter for The Daily Chronicle, was requesting an interview with Ondalune. It had already been cleared by the director. Did she mind answering his questions between takes? They giggled about her relative state of undress before concluding that the slip was no more revealing than the dresses many girls were wearing to nightclubs.
Another spasm rocked her body as scales began retracting into skin. The memory crystalized:“Miss Ondalune, your movies captivate millions. What inspired you to take the role of the mermaid in this film?” Cosimo asked, his dark eyes never leaving hers, a strange recognition passing between them.
“I’ve always had a fondness for the ocean,” she’d answered truthfully, without mentioning her allergy. Then she’d batted her lashes coquettishly. “I don’t know. Maybe I was born to play this role.”
The slight widening of his eyes told her he caught some deeper meaning in her words, though she hadn’t intended it.
Goldie writhed as her tail continued its painful division. The sensation of bones forming where there had been none was excruciating. And so were the memories that were slowly forming to fill the gaps.
A rapid-fire series of events, parties, dinners, nightclubs, Cosimo had shown up at every public event she attended that season. No longer pretending to be there on magazine business, but always watching from a distance. When she confronted him finally, he admitted he’d been following her career for years. And he’d told her his real name.
“I saw you in a vaudeville show in 1923,” he confessed. “Something about you... I knew you were special. Different.”
“Different how?” she asked, both frightened and intrigued.
“I think you know. You are like me,” he whispered. His words gave her goosebumps. “Not belonging to this world entirely.”
The scales on her lower body were fully retreating now, the split complete, though her newly formed legs were still fusing, tendons and muscles knitting themselves together with agonizing precision. Goldie cried out, the sound echoing against the cliffs above. With the pain came more clarity.
