We are the mermaids of Whitecap Bay.
We swim in silence, waiting underneath the waters, deep, down, in the unknown, just waiting. It gets boring down there, but that's okay. We're patient.
When we hear jolly singing from the surface, see an oar cut through the otherwise peaceful water—that is our cue.
One of us swims up; it depends on which one of us is attracted to the source of the sound. We put on our pretty faces—the ones that win over the stupid sailors on the boat. We flirt, splash a little, sometimes sing. It doesn't take long to win over a gullible sailor, too madly in love to think straight. We lure him closer, and when he thinks he's going to get one kiss or two, that's when he's at his weakest.
And with one sharp yank—he's in the water.
Underneath the surface, we aren't so pretty. The stunning, beautiful girl that the sailors see is just an illusion, a wicked one that we fabricated in their minds. But we still have control over them. They're so stupid they don't even realize they're underwater until the pretty girl in front of them morphs into something uglier, something that seemed to have come out of his worst fears.
And once he realizes his mistake, he's too far down to swim back up. Nevertheless, some brave ones try, and we admire their courage. Sometimes we even let them swim for our own amusement.
He swims rapidly, frantically, away from this horrible nightmare, knowing that he needs air, he can't hold on for much longer-
He's almost there, he can see the surface, the light streaming down, it's so close-
And then we come in, and pull him down, deeper and deeper, to drown.
And once we are done with him, we wait underwater, patiently, for our next victim to come by.