I've never particularly liked fairy tales, not even when I was a kid. Something about them just never sat quite right with me, I think maybe it was the little voice in the back of my head constantly telling me what a load of bull they all were that ruined it for me. It wasn't only fairy tales, mind you, just about anything you couldn't prove to me with a photograph was something I didn't believe in, Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny included. (Though I'll admit it, the Loch Ness Monster through me for a loop for a while.) My little sister on the other hand, she loved 'em. Every night she'd ask me to read her one of her some short story from this huge story book she'd gotten as a birthday present a while back. Funny thing was, the stories she asked me to read over and over weren't the ones about princesses and knights in shining armor like most little girls; her favorites were the ones about half-human half-something else mythical creatures, things like the fae, centaurs, satyrs, selkies, and mermaids. The things I found the most ridiculously fictitious were the things she couldn't get enough stories of, go figure.
'Seeing is believing' is a quote I've lived my life by, it's probably one of the main reasons I chose to major in photojournalism. A lot of people thought it was a weird fit for me, they all thought I would go into the army or police or something, become a businessman at the very least, and I guess I can't blame them, but I like what I do. I get to go out and collect photographs and put them together to tell a story honestly and accurately. There's no bullshit, just straight up facts. No fairy tales here.
Well, I mean, up until this point at least.
Let me set the scene for you: It was early morning on a Thursday, I walking on the beach with my camera slung around my neck. Trust me, this day certainly didn't look like any fairy tale I'd ever read. The sun was not shining bright and warm overhead, the beach beneath my feet was not soft and silky, nature did not sing a joyous tune; in fact it was just after dawn, and the sky was blanketed in clouds and fog rolled across the ground so dense every time I breathed in it felt like I was like gulping down a mouthful of sea water. The only noise other than the waves crashing to the shore was the sound of broken shells and gravely sand crunching under my feet. The breeze that blew across my skin was pretty damn cold too, but the ground I walked on still held some of the heat from yesterday, so I continued on barefoot, in a stupid attempt to soak up some of its warmth. The day was far from ideal, but then again the weather isn't what's important here.
What's important is that while I sauntered aimlessly along the fog-covered beach, I met one of the Merfolk completely by chance.
As I was wondering along, a formation of rocks jutting out of the sea came into view through the curtain of fog, which just so happened to be where he had been lounging. You see, no one goes to the beach when the sky is clouded over and fog hangs in the air, it's just not something that people do. Hell, I was only out here because I'd thought the fog would make for interesting photographs when caught in the light of the sunrise (which I couldn't even see, by the way). He'd probably been betting on this fact when he swam into the shallows and pulled himself up onto the rocks, and luckily the sound of the waves crashing in between them concealed the crunching of my feet until it was too late.
He didn't match the scene that surrounded him, not at all, in fact if I didn't know better I would say it was almost as if he were purposely trying to make himself stand out. You see, everything within a about a mile radius was painted a dull blue or cool grey: the rocks, the sand, the waves, the mist, everything. Even the light filtering through the cloud cover came out dim and lackluster, but he most certainly was not. The first thing I noticed of all things was his russet skin, and how warm it looked against the scenery, even the scales of his fin that worked their way up his torso and appeared in sporadic patches all over the rest of him looked like they'd been skinned straight off a red snapper. It was kind of incredible really, how something living in the cold northern oceans could boast such vibrant colors. Speaking of his pigmentation, like I should mention that this kid had freckles. Like a lot of freckles. I specifically remember being dumbfounded by the idea of anything with scales having freckles, but there he was. I don't know why I thought this was so weird, I mean there's spotted seals and octopus and of course there's spotted fish, so it would make sense for this merperson to have spots of his own, but I digress. The freckles, they stood out in large clusters mainly on his cheeks and shoulders, but small dustings of stray marks could be seen all over his body, including the scales of his tail.
I have to admit, he was kind of beautiful.
He was also kind of a mythical creature.
I don't know why I didn't question that he was a real flesh and blood mermaid- merman- and not just some kid in a costume, but at the time it didn't occur to me that he could be anything but real. Maybe it was the sight combines with the very real smell of brine, or the way his scales really shimmered in the light, or how they moved so naturally. Maybe it was because I can't imagine a guy up at the asscrack of dawn just to go out and dress up like a mermaid. Maybe it was stupid not to question it, but like I said, 'seeing is believing.'
I'm not going to lie, my next move probably wasn't the best one I could have chosen, but I place the blame entirely on being a kid brought up in 21st century. Very slowly, very STUPIDLY, I slid my iPhone (not the very expensive camera hanging around my neck, but my IPHONE) out of my pocket, opened the camera app and snapped a photo. As if that wasn't dumb enough, I didn't have the damn thing on silent so the annoying snapping noise blared across the airwaves along with the ridiculously bright flash through the dim light. His reaction to this whole thing was near instantaneous. For one single moment his face turned towards me, brown eyes appearing out of his dark hair and wide in surprise, mouth slightly ajar. Just a second later he was gone; torso turned over his hips and powerful tail pushing him back off into the waves. The last thing I saw was his red tail fin slapping the waves has he disappeared into the depths.
The whole ordeal probably took place over the course of five seconds, give or take, and I was left standing there on the beach slack-jawed and arm still extended in photo-taking position. I don't know how long I stood like that but eventually it occurred to me that the only way I could be sure of what I just saw was to check the phone in my hand. Honestly, I was a little afraid to look. I was half expecting the photograph to not have taken, or to see nothing in it but the pile of rocks, but when the picture loaded I could clearly see the russet merman staring back at me just as he had been moments before.
And when I say 'clearly' I mean that I could clearly make out a vague humanoid shape through the intense fog coverage and glare form the flash. Frankly, the photograph was awful, but it was all I needed to assure me that I had in fact just met a fish person and the experience wasn't just the effects of accidentally inhaling some sort of air-borne hallucinogen.
Oddly enough just a couple hours later I was sitting in this little hole-in-the-wall coffee shop called Cafe Maria with a few good friends discussing the upcoming warm front that was going to bring clear skies and beautiful weather and how we were going to celebrate the lingering cold from winter finally thawing out. Any thoughts I had about the merman had been put completely out of my head for the time being, simply because I didn't have the time to waste thinking about whether or not I'd met a mythical being today. All I had to prove I'd actually seen him at all was an incredibly blurry picture and a five-second splice of memory; it was so much easier just to believe I'd been hallucinating from sleep deprivation or something.
To my immediate left sat the Winsome Threesome- Eren Jaeger, Mikasa Ackerman, and Armin Arlert. Mikasa was sipping quietly at some chai tea, smiling fondly as Eren and Armin chattered excitedly about the possibility of setting up a bonfire on the beach. To my right sat Connie Springer and Sasha Braus, who whole-heartedly agreed to this idea. Mikasa and I sat quietly as the two pairs bounced ideas back and forth from one another until suddenly Connie was talking about inviting everyone we could for some huge beginning of summer blow-out party. It was about then that I felt the need to step in and bring him back down planet Earth.
"Woah woah woah, I thought it was only going to be us, just chilling on the beach." I interrupted Connie mid-sentence. I didn't like where this was headed. I didn't like being around big crowds of people for very long, so honestly the less populated our get-together could be, the more fun I would probably have. "None of us have enough money to rent a tent or provide enough food and shit for all the people you're talking about, and I'm pretty sure not many people would be interested if the main event of the evening is sitting around staring at a fire pit."
Connie shook his head, "Nah man, it'll be great! If we get Ymir and Christa to come we can probably have Ymir play the guitar and Christa sing something. I heard they've been working on songs together, and you know Christa has the voice of an angel. Some other people may even join in too. And people can bring their own drinks and snacks, we won't have to provide a thing. Trust me, after this winter of being cooped up inside everyone will totally want to come hang at an open-air party out on the sand."
Armin wrinkled his nose, "Why don't we just have the party inside somewhere then? We wouldn't have to worry about keeping close to the fire for warmth or getting bit by sand mites and mosquitoes."
"It's been pretty warm at night recently, Armin" Eren pointed out, "Especially with the heat wave rolling in, I doubt we'll have to worry about freezing to death. Worst case scenario, we layer up. It'll be fine."
"And we can set up tiki torches all around to keep the bugs away. It's probably a good idea anyway to keep them out of the food." Sasha said eagerly.
"It would be a good chance to see Annie, Reiner, and Berthold again. We've hardly seen them all semester." Mikasa added.
"Then it's settled!" Connie said, slamming a fist down on the table for effect, "Bonfire beach party this Friday, a mile south of the wharf. Bring your own drinks and concessions. Possible live music from the lovely lesbian duo, Ymir and Christa." He finished, winking. Clearly he thought he was hilarious.
I rolled my eyes. Sure, gratuitous amounts of loud college kids weren't really my thing, but the party would be taking place at my favorite place in the world and my closest friends would still be hanging around. I could at least try to have a little fun. It was probably good for me every now and again.
As was expected, the party blew.
I mean, don't get me wrong, for other people it probably was awesome, it just didn't really appeal to me. To many people I didn't know, too noisy and chaotic, and Ymir only liked to play country and folk songs (I'm more of a alternative/prog rock guy myself). All of my friends were too occupied with other people to strike up an extended conversation with me, though I didn't blame them. They spent a lot of time with me as it was, thankfully our differing majors didn't keep us apart, but they also had friends from their own classes so the party was really dedicated to seeing the people they didn't see as often. Unlike them though, I didn't make many friends within my own major. I never really liked holding a bunch of trivial friendships, didn't really see the point if maintaining a relationship that didn't have the possibility of becoming more. Rather, I liked having a small group of close friends. It was just easier.
I tried sticking near Connie and Sasha for a while, Connie was in liberal arts and Sasha attended culinary school, so the people that flocked to them were often people I could recognize, but the conversations taking place around me never seemed to catch my interest, so eventually I just faded out to seek out something else to do. Closer I spotted the Winsome Threesome along with Christa, Berthold, and two people, a man and a woman, I didn't recognize. I later found out the woman was a professor of Christa and Bert's, Hanji, though they treated her far more like a fellow student. Next to her sat a man, Levi, who looked entirely out of place at a party like this. His face was passive, arms crossed over his chest and dressed a little too fancy for a party on the beach. Despite his disinterested appearance, however, Eren had his full attention turned towards him, doing his best to hold his attention for whatever reason. Mikasa and Armin sat passively to the side, chiming in every once in a while but for the most part sat roasting marshmallows and just enjoying the atmosphere. I sat near them for a while, but I knew nothing about the medical topics Christa, Bert, and Hanji were discussing, and Eren was talking with Levi about his interest in a major in advertising (I think Levi taught in the business department.) which I had zero interest in, so eventually I let out a small sigh and got up, giving the lame excuse of grabbing something to drink when Armin questioned me. Honestly I just wanted to get away for a while. I was feeling stifled, encroached upon, I needed to get away and breathe for a second. So I set off in the opposite direction of the wharf, taking my shoes off along the way so I could feel the coarse sand in between my toes.
Eren had been right, the night was cool, but not overly so; if anything it was refreshing to be able to walk as I pleased without the burden of a heavy winter jacket. Once away from the party, I could really appreciate the nice weather we had been trying so hard to celebrate, and why we had picked the beach as our venue. The sound of crashing waves, the pungent yet calming scent of brine in the air, the sand underfoot, the sky had even cleared up considerably from that morning, no traces of the eerie mist remained.
As soon as I recalled the fog from the morning though, it wasn't long before I began to remember the events that had transpired because of it. I sighed, if been working to keep myself busy all day so I hadn't had time to think about it, but now that I was all alone, on the same beach no less, I was forced to contemplate what had really happened, if I really had seen what I thought I saw. Of course, it would have been so easy to just say I was going crazy, that it had just been a trick my own mind played on me, but the photograph on my phone begged to differ. Vague as it was, the figure could still be seen in the fog, though I doubted if anyone else would be able to see what the figure was supposed to be, what I thought I saw.
My feet continued on their imagined path as I was lost in thought, taking me along without my noticing until suddenly something very noticeably crunched my bare foot, sending a sudden shooting pain up my left leg.
"OW, SHIT," I howled, jerking my leg back in surprise, which caused me to ungraciously crash to the ground below. I'd cut my left foot, that much was for certain; I could feel the blood flowing across my skin as little spasms of pain lanced it's way up my calves, and by the bright light of the moon I could see the plethora of little lacerations that covered the underside of my foot. The cuts weren't deep enough that I would need stitches, at least I knew that much, but they weren't shallow enough to allow for me to walk without pain. Still spitting a string of curses, I tore the sleeves off my shirt, knowing it was the only thing I had in hand to stop the bleeding and keep the sand out of the cuts as I hobbled back to the party. Stripping pieces as I went along, I carefully wrapped up my wounded foot until I was satisfied with the amount of covering it provided, although there was no avoiding the red patches bleeding through the fabric. Finally, with my shirt successfully ruined and the bleeding somewhat under control, I turned my attention to the cause of my pain.
"The fuck is this?" Sitting in the sand before me seemed to be nothing more than a pile of shimmering cloth, already a dusky red, now covered with flecks of my own blood. I was dumbfounded as to how a fucking tablecloth could have sliced open my foot like it had, so I carefully took the fabric between two fingers, and pulled it to my face so I could examine it more closely. When I picked it up, it felt fairly heavy and shifted in abnormal ways; upon closer inspection I saw that instead of a solid swatch of fabric, the cloth was instead made of hundreds and hundreds of tiny scale-like facets, like old european armor or something. Each singular scale was surprisingly sturdy, curved into a slight point at the end, which explained my cutting myself on it. The only thing it didn't explain was what the hell it was and why someone had just left it lying in the sand at night.
Before I had the chance to question it further, a quiet voice appeared out of the quiet behind me, uttering only one small phrase: "Oh no."
My head snapped back to look behind me, and standing there was a tall and tan be-speckled young man, looking at me with eyes wide and face contorted in horror.