AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’ve always stayed just out of sight, out of conscious realization. He’s never been certain he’s seen me, yet now I’m standing here, fully exposed, fully vulnerable.
There’s a disbelief, a slight madness in his eyes, and I hold my breath in these new, air-filled lungs as I wait for him to shoo me away like some wild animal...
Instead, he turns away and I watch as he moves toward the old wooden dresser in the corner of the bedroom, where he silently retrieves a plaid shirt and a pair of shorts. He hands them to me, and for the first time, I realize I’m naked.
Humans cover their beautiful bodies with these fabrics. Mostly for warmth and modesty, I’ve noted, but as I put it on, I feel confined, restricted. If I want to stay in this world, I need to blend in, become one of them, but already, I feel a tightness in my chest about what that means, about the restrictions I’m about to accept. I’ve always pitied the humans for their fragile sensibilities, their need for these fabrics for their comfort. They break so easily, their skin so weak that it can’t bear the elements of nature without crumbling. I don’t like that I’m now no stronger than that. That I, too, am vulnerable to the wind, the rain, the cold, the heat...
Feeling powerless is decidedly the worst feeling of all.
How do these humans survive it?
My hands shake as I struggle with the buttons on the shirt. Too small and cumbersome. I’ve held eight-ton ships out of the violent thrashing of waves, and these tiny, round plastic buttons are defeating me.
The fisherman approaches.
“May I?” he asks. It’s the first time I’ve heard his voice this close, usually muted by distance and the echoing of the wind. It’s low and quiet, but full of depth.
I nod and he reaches for them. I watch as he buttons the shirt. He’s taller than I am in this form and his body is thick and wide and strong compared to my thin, womanly shape. I’d have no chance in protecting myself from him should he choose to hurt me... I shiver at the thought.
He smells like the sea and I instantly crave home, the deep hollowness in the pit of my stomach now that the choice has been made and I’ve sealed my fate. Terror and panic overwhelm me, emotions I’ve never battled before, and I forget to inhale.
But the fisherman’s eyes meet mine and the kindness reflected in his carries not pity, but admiration. As though he somehow understands the sacrifice I’ve just made, as though he understands the turmoil whirling within my core. As though he knows what it feels like to be lost and afraid.
The longer our eyes hold, the more my heart rate relaxes, my body stops its quivering and the ache for home in my chest subsides. If I could stare into his eyes—the windows to his soul—forever, I might be okay.
But he looks away and takes a step backward. “Are you hungry?” he asks.
Am I? I don’t know. I’ve never felt that sensation before. I touch my stomach and feel a slight rumble, but it isn’t until the smell of a fish stew cooking on the stove hits my nose that I truly feel the hunger churning inside. Suddenly, I feel empty. As though I’ve never eaten before. I sit at the table across from him and accept the meal with gratitude, shoveling the food in so fast, I nearly choke.
He watches me while I eat and I can see the questions rolling over in his mind.
Am I really here? How is this possible? Has he truly lost his mind now?
I want to reassure him that I am real. In the best way I can be. But I haven’t learned to speak in his language yet. At least, not in a way he’d understand. My voice would scare him...
After we eat, he clears away the dishes and leads the way into the bedroom. My heart races. He tears the sheets from the bed and replaces them with new ones.
I stand there, unsure what to do. Mating in my world is far different than the human world, so I stand there waiting. Held captive by my choices. I’m here and there’s nowhere else I can go until my time runs out. I’m at the mercy of this fisherman’s kindness or cruelty.
He turns to look at me, and in the dim light of the room, illuminated only by a lamp that strikes a remarkable resemblance to me—the me I truly am—his expression has changed once again. Now it’s one of acceptance, belief...dare I hope, happiness that I’m here.
He walks toward me and reaches out a hand to touch my cheek.
As though he has to make sure.
His shoulders relax when his flesh touches mine, but my skin torches under the contact. Humans have no idea the power their touch can yield. Their contact can harm, it can heal...it can entice.
I feel a tingling throughout my core and tiny little lumps surface on the skin I can see. What is this? My legs tremble as though they may collapse and my mouth fills with saliva as the fisherman’s hand traces the contours of my face. He caresses every inch of it. Then his hand softly strokes my hair.
I’m frozen—not in fear, but in this foreign feeling wrapping around me. This intense desire that simmers beneath the surface of this humanly frame. I never knew humans could feel so many things all at once, so deeply, so strong, yet so tender and all-encompassing.
His gaze seems lost as it sweeps over me. He doesn’t speak, just continues to feel, reassure himself that I’m not a figment of madness and despair.
What is he thinking? What is he feeling?
This tension simmering between us has my body on alert, my skin tingles in anticipation, but my heart pounds with a dreaded uncertainty. Will he accept me? Will he want me? I’ve made the ultimate sacrifice to be here with him... Will he reject me? Will it all be for naught?
How do I know what feelings are real when I’ve never felt them before? How do I take the risk of opening my heart to this lonely stranger I’ve admired and longed for from afar?
