Writing Prompt:
Through the mist I could just make out the tip of a fin.
If you ever watched Disney’s Little Mermaid you probably think you know all about mermaids. You don’t. They’re not nice, half humans with red hair and voices like angels… an opera singer maybe but they are not angels. Real mermaids look more fish-like with smooth slippery skin and glimmering scales. Beautiful but not in a sexual way (unless you’re into that stuff).
Hunting mermaids is a family business. Before you get all offended like those environmentalist protestors who say hunting anything is wrong, Mermaids produce a protein in their blood that can help our own bodies combat cancer. One shot of the mermaid serum and a terminally ill patient is bought another year. Some go into complete remission. Also mermaid serum can help with other health problems such as alzheimer’s disease and AIDs.
So we don’t hunt them for sport or because we want to. I actually like the buggers even though they love to mess with fishermen, stealing our catches. We do all the work and they reap the reward? At least help herd in those schools. Mermaid Hunters are employed by the government though there are still protests about it.
No one really knows why mermaids’ protein can do this but I’m not a scientist. That’s not my job. My job is to capture a certain amount of mermaids a year while thanks to the International Ocean Wildlife Protection Act (or Mermaid Act as critics like to call it) we mermaid hunters can only hunt so many times a year. Only 4 mermaids a year. $8,000 a piece.
We don’t know how many mermaids are left but they migrate twice a year, so we only have at least a month to hunt and capture these creatures. If you’re lucky you get your quota of 4 but like I said… hunting mermaids is hard. I’ll tell you of one hunt I had just a year ago.
It was a typical Norwegian morning in winter. Frost coated the docks in the harbor. The grey mist was thick like butter. You could only see a few feet in front of you. The sun was barely up. I held my coffee cup in my hand as my captain got the boat ready.
I held onto the hot coffee cup for dear life wishing I could just inject the brew into my veins thinking that could jolt my senses. Once the boat was finally ready I stepped aboard the Sea Dog (yes a silly name, nothing fancy like the Lobster Queen). Then we drove the boat through the dark frigid waters of the harbor.
To draw out the mermaids hunters have a special call. I dipped the water proof radio into the inky blackness and turned on the dummy mermaid call. It’s basically a hump back distress call. Mermaids love to help their fellow sea creatures.
It was probably about an hour before there was a sighting. Through the mist I could just make out the tip of a fin. Chasing mermaids is about as hard as it sounds. Slippery little creatures. Suddenly I heard another splash and swear I heard a giggle. Or perhaps that was just my imagination…
“Turn the boat around,” I ordered my captain. He grumbled hating a young woman order him around. But I knew many of the captains in Norway and they knew me from when my father would take me hunting. I know a lot of my stuff. Though at the time I was still young and was prone to mistakes.
I saw it leaving a wake in the water but it disappeared underneath our small fishing boat. I learned the hard way that hunting mermaids in a small row boat was the best way to fall in and catch pneumonia or worse be dragged down by those clammy, scaly clawed hands. That happened once. I was lucky the mermaid I was chasing was in a playful mood. Otherwise she would have held onto my leg and not let go until I stopped making bubbles.
“Over there!”
“I can’t keep turning the boat every which way, Shannon!” my old partner cried out. “She’s not flexible like you or me. She’s just a regular boat with a motor and stiff wood.”
I was still new to the profession of hunting mermaids. They’re not like in fairytales… well in appearance anyway. Suddenly I saw her. She breached the surface looking at me with her big almond shaped eyes. They were as deep and mysterious as the ocean and as frosty blue as sea glass. Her hair was as green as seaweed, long and flowing dreamily as it was combed by the currents. Her scaly flesh gleamed in the light like diamonds. I swear she winked at me.
Then she disappeared deep into the dark blue again.
“Shit!” You can’t out swim a mermaid. They have gills and have sleek bodies that make it easy for them to cut through the roughest currents.
“Lost her…,” my partner groaned.
“No, she’s just playing with us,” I said searching the waters, my eyes taking care not to miss a thing. I spent my life near the ocean. I could spot a whale or a ship in a mist and tell the difference in a heart beat. I’ve known all my life that the sea likes to play tricks.
Then I caught a head breaching and a tail splash. Straight ahead.
“Thaar she blows!” I called on my radio as quietly as I could. “Cut the engine.”
“Seriously?”
“She’s playing games with us,” I explained. “Let’s try waiting and see what she does.”
We sat in the water letting the gentle currents take us out to sea, away from the harbor. The mermaid was trying to get us out to sea where we could easily lose her. We stayed at the mouth of the harbor waiting. It was a good 30 minutes before I saw her again. She was slapping her tail on the water’s surface like a whale saying hello. In this case she was mocking us.
I held up my hand for my captain to stay. I went to the chest below my feet and got out a shiny hand mirror. My dad taught me this trick. Mermaids love shiny objects, especially mirrors. They’re like parrots, dad used to say. This should draw her in.
I tied the hand mirror I got from a super market to a fishing line then dropped it carefully into the dark water. I was completely still. I felt a slight tug but did nothing. After a few minutes another tug. Still I didn’t move. The third tug came a bit harder. She wanted the mirror badly enough to put herself in danger.
I motioned for my captain to bring the crane with the net forward as I slowly danced the line in the water feeling the occasionally irritated tug. My captain pulled the lever that controlled the crane and it hummed as it craned over my position.
My nerves were on edge. My muscles tensed every time I felt the mermaid pull harder at the mirror. I was afraid the line would break. I knew I had her on the hook… I began pulling the mirror up until I saw the mirror and her just below the surface.
“NOW!” I cried out. The mermaid grabbed onto the mirror as the net descended. The net crashed into the water creating a big splash. Mermaids have incredible vocal chords. They can have voices like opera singers or be like screeching dolphins. The screeching is the worst part.
This mermaid screeched so loud I thought sailors would hear her from 50 miles away. My ear drums threatened to burst. She struggled in the net, clawing and flailing about in the net.
I was excited to have captured this mermaid but forgot that some mermaids traveled in pods. Not just with other mermaids but… It was then I heard a clicking purr… I saw a dark fin rise out of the dark water. Two more. Orcas.
My captain didn’t need to be told to turn on the engine. My ears flooded with the roar of the motor along with the screeching of the mermaid and her whale friends. Most mermaid hunters have hearing problems when they got older. Dad had need of a hearing aid when he was 37.
One of the Orca whales turned over to look at me. I could feel it’s anger as another caught the net and began pulling it in the other direction. I fell back onto the deck as the boat and the whales played tug of war.
“Cut the line!” I cried as I struggled to my feet. Luckily I was born with sea legs. I could briskly walk on a boat as it was tossed without losing my balance.
I didn’t wait for my captain to obey. Sometimes you gotta cut your catch loose or else you become the catch. I pushed the big red button that released the cable. Our boat jerked back, swaying side to side like a rubber boat in a toddler’s bath tub.
I heard the squeaking of the Orca and the scratchy call of the mermaid. They were laughing at us.
“That was too close…,” my captain wiped his brow.
“Who ever said hunting mermaids was fun never hunted mermaids,” I sighed, my heart raced, hammering like a train making it up a hill.
“Better luck next time,” my captain said.
“Next time we try hunting her up the coast to the cove,” I said running my fingers through my blonde hair that I like to keep short. “Corner her there.”
“Not much sport in capturing them in a corner,” my captain snorted in good humor.
“No…,” I smiled. “Tomorrow morning then…”
Hunting mermaids isn't easy but it's a living.
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