I do write stories, but they are kept in anonymous places and written under secret identities somewhere in the corners of the vast, vast web. Just a hobby for fun and practice. Who knows, if I ever become an author or something, this blog is ready for future novel updates (As if. I've read enough authors' blogs that say it's not the best way to make a living). This is part of a much longer thing, scene in the middle of a war. I still got a lot to improve. Soon, I will write and post a complete story about college before I graduate.
Come morning, two masked men take her out of her prison, and made her eat. It was only when she smelled freshly-cooked food that she realized her hunger. She had no way to count how long she has been inside. The spell drawn over her made her weak. Everything has been a blur, a haze, it didn't cross her mind to escape. They made her sit and eat on a small table.
"Eat," one of them whispers to her, placing a plate of steaming meat under her nose, and the smell was like morning. She took the cutlery and ate mouthfuls of rice and ground meat in red tomato-syrup sprinkled with chili and peppercorns, chewing and savoring the warm food in her mouth. She ate plates of sizzling steaks lathered in rum gravy and candied onion rings. There was a dish of meat as soft as flan, her spoon slicing a perfect semi-sphere on the pinkish surface. It was some sort of skin and meat, a silk honeyed pudding glazed in thick white buttercream.
"It's delicious, right? Can't help but make a hungry girl eat," the other masked man says. "You are lucky to be our guest. Partake our choicest meat. That delicacy is expensive, and you might only taste it this once in your life," he said with a smile in his voice, glad to share their food. They both sat in front of her and watched, seeming fascinated with a hungry girl wolfing down mouthfuls of food.
"How does it taste?" they asked.
"Perfect," she answered between bites. "What meat is this? I haven't tasted anything like it before."
"The virgin womb of a girl your age, the other one was meat and steak cut from her thigh," he replies, and she sits straight and looks up for the first time and sees dead girls on the long countertop, all still fresh and cut in half. They are lying down, their heads propped along the wall, all of them are smiling. She can see it clearly from here, the clean insides of rib cages empty of hearts and lungs. The girls' identical long hair was wet, drawing wavy patterns across and between small pre-pubescent breasts, their skin clean and perfect in its pallor. Chopped girls laid next to chopped fish remains of sharks and bluefin tuna, and the half-girls placed beside the half-tails made the combined corpses look like bisected mermaids.
There were also reverse-mermaids, large fish-heads lined beside chopped human legs, young genitalia covered in crushed ice.
"Spoils of war. There is famine, and we can't afford wasted meat, can we?" the man said. She didn't puke it out like they expected or like she expected, but swallowed it all down. They tasted perfect, and a hungry starved girl couldn't resist any food. Then, she felt afraid, that she might be next to be slaughtered. They read her mind, laughed at her sudden shift in her chair, like a scared animal about to run away.
"You're special. We won't sell you for meat," the butcher said. "Eat. You will need all the energy to run away." She did. She ate it all.
I want the ocean, the real one, not this shallow illusion. You are my prison. Save me.
You will not die. Your death will be birth as I will change you, turn you into a new creature, I will give you nacre skin and rainbow fins, eyes that see forbidden colors, and you will be a the first of your kind. You will no longer breathe like a girl. You will cease to remember your name as you don't need one. You will see as I see, the depths, you will be one with creatures unnamed shining with bioluminescent skin as stars in space in the deepest trenches, it will be paradise. I have cities under the sea, cathedrals made of domed ribs of whales, pillars of winding coral, an altar of the shell of the great tortoise. Angler fish, narwhals, kraken would pass by and welcome you with hymns, and you will sing as they do. You will have new ears to hear them, their songs too wonderful for human ears to ever hear.
The creature showed her images flashing through her mind, like quick shimmers of water on the back of her eyelids. Glimpses and visions only hinted at, never fully shown. Yes, her closed eyes brimmed with tears as she saw them, beautiful as they were even if incomplete, that she's afraid her eyes might be inadequate to comprehend them.
What is your life, the limitations of your biology, come close to this?
I will give you what you cannot even imagine. I will make you siren, seahorse, crayfish, urchins, flounders, sea snakes, lampreys, lampetra, pacifastacus leniusculus, physeter catodon, prionace glauca, acipenser transmontanus, linckia laevigata, vibrio cholerae.
You will the first of your kind.
Set me free. Kill yourself.
The disembodied voice spoke of sorrows as old as thirteen hundred years, and all her life at thirteen was nothing compared to the creature's eons and eras of imprisonment. It carried the memory when the world was but one great sea, when it was called Ocean instead of Earth, when it was a lone unmarred sapphire sphere in black space.