AN: In my opinion, what you are about to read is one of the best short stories I have written. Love reading it like I loved writing it, and you should be fine. The first few paragraphs of this tale make it seem entirely different than what it really is. Remeber that. It's a bit fluffy too. I'd love a review, if you get the chance, I'd also like to continue it someday, but for now it remains in only one piece. The disclaimer: I OWN EVERYTHING!!! I've always wanted to say that. And now, may I present to you... Gossamer:
Lydia stood on the shore of the beach. Pale, fine sand slowly molded to the shape of her bare feet and filled the cracks between her toes. Beside her, a voluminous wave with a thunderous roar. Cool, crystal water enveloped her calves, up to the level of her knees. When the magnificent wave receeded, a tiny coral shell was embedded in soggy sand. Carefully, she picked it up and cradled it between slender fingers.
"We find a kind of paradise in a flower's bloom. You're like a flower to me, Lydia. My own kind of paradise."
Those were the last words he'd said to her before he left.
She sighed, and wondered if he could see her now. Delicately, she set the conch back on the ground where it was devoured by hungry waves.
Far off on the edge of the horizon, the sun was setting. It's color exploded across the sky. Molten amber on a background of fire was streaked with violet and magenta. The clouds were dyed a stellar orange, and the sun was but a small ivory sliver sinking below the ocean's depths.
Lydia sank to her knees, not caring when the sand scraped her shins and her jean shorts were soon both wet and salty. Her body began to shake, and she buried her face in her hands. As she wept, she pondered. She remembered.
He perched on the edge of her bed with his knees drawn up to his chest. He was wearing her borrowed, oversized gray sweater that swallowed his arms and a pair of jeans with a hole in the left knee. In a calloused hand he clutched a crimson rose. He twirled it between his fingers slowly, methodically. When he spoke, his voice was musical, a drop of sunshine on a rainy day.
"I told you from the beginning, that it could never happen. Not even if we both wanted it. I had one week. No more, no less. It's been six days, Lyd. I have to..." His voice cracked and trailed off. As a tear rolled down his face, Lydia moved across the bedroom. When she trudged over red carpet, the floor gave a tremendous break. It was the only noise in the cold, deserted house.
Lydia embraced the forlorn boy, and buried her tear-stained face into his hair. "Don't talk like that," she muttered. "Please."
Outside, the sky was bleak. A raindrop pattered the window. Then another, and another. They craved eagerly to come in.
Inside, the two figures held eachother, both wanting the same thing. A thing that could never be.
He had left that night. Climbed down the roof and pelted across the dew-splattered grass. He had vanished from her life. Just like that.
Slowly, painfully, Lydia lowered her hands from her face. She took a deep breath. He was here. She could feel it in her bones.
She stretched her hand out eloquently and placed it upon the surface of the water like the gossamer kiss of a flower petal. The ripples that splayed out reminded her of broken glass- how the fragments managed to worm their way into and crack, sharp and painful, how deeply they affected people, how easily they shattered. Just like him. He had shattered her life and she was slowly trying to pick up the pieces.
Lydia spread out her fingers and let the warmth of the sun seep up her arm. She felt him watching her. Steadying, she breathed in deeply.
"Adrian," she whispered.
No reply but the crash of yet another wave.
She stared down into the blackness of the sea. She wondered what it would be like to be him, to be forever suffocated by the inky water's darkness, never to reach the surface. She wondered how it felt to be constantly covered in water, to feel the rough kelp tangle within her arms, or the velvet glide of a minnow across the back of her neck. She thought that underneath the surface, it would be like night all the time.
Out of nowhere, the pink conch that she had put back in the water rose from the sea in a majestic arch and landed on the top of her had. As though it had been thrown.
She said his name one more time.
On the jagged ebony cliffs behind her, a group of seagulls chattered niosily.
From under the surface of the ocean, a pair of aquamarine eyes peered at Lydia through a mass of moonlight-colored hair. She met his gase and held it as the boy, as Adrian, jumped out of the water and landed in her arms.
"You shouldn't so that," she said as she laughed for the first time in days, and wrapped her arms around the boy's sopping torso.
The boy laughed too. "I knew you'd come for me sooner or later." Grinning impishly, he presed his lips tenderly to her cheek. "Love ya, Lyd."
The girl could feel tears of a different kind on her face now. "Love you too, Adrian." She sighed, and the smile on her face fell slightly. "How much-"
"Hold on," the boy said. He turned, jumped from the warmth of their embrace, and dove into the water. He swam for a moment, and then jumped back out. He landed in a sitting position beside her. "Now, what were you saying?"
"Adrian, do we have any time at all? I- could we..?" Lydia closed her eyes and layed her head on his shoulder. She reached up and fleetingly traced the slits in the boy's neck. Beside her, Adrian shivered.
"Could we ever be?" she asked.
Adrian's brows furrowed in a deep crease across his forehead.
"I asked the Oracle what I should do. You know, the wisest clam of all, or so they say. He said-" He paused and gently placed his hand on top of Lydia's. The warmth of human skin, the pulse of blood flowing through her body gave him courage. "A woman, in New York City. An apartment near some street called 'Broadway.' Wait again."
He dove in and out of the water for a second time.
"He said she owned a golden flute. If you were to play it for me, I would become..." His voice trailed off as it tended to do.
"Human," Lydia finished for him. "I know that I want it." She let her finger touch one of the many silver scales that covered his lower body. "Are you sure you really want it?"
Adrian nodded.
"Positive?"
He lifted her face from his shoulder and sweetly cupped her face in his hands.
"Yes," he replied. "More so that you can imagine."
"Then it's settled." The two sat in silence for some time. When the boy got into the water, the girl rose. A calm ocean breeze blew her mahogany hair about her face. The boy plopped himself on the beach again.
"Lydia-?" he started to ask.
"Tomorrow," Lydia said. "I'll catch a bus and ride it 'till I get to New York. I'll leave at dawn."
"Lydia," Adrian gasped. "I don't want to put you in danger."
"Adrian, I'm already in danger as it is. Besides, you can't do it." The boy winced. "And I'm the only one who knows what you really are." Her golden eyes glowed. "I have to. Please. You can't stop me."
It was the boy's turn to sigh. "You're right. I can't. I should at least try to stop you, but I won't." He dove gracefully back into the water. His head popped up, sending shimmering droplets everywhere. "When you go, eat right. Get your sleep. Brush your teeth. All that good stuff." He hesitated. "Return. Safely. As fast as you can."
Lydia chuckled. "I will."
She thought for a moment, and then said, "I'm saying it again, just for emphasis. I love you Adrian Holloway. With all my heart."
"And I you, Lydia Cadburry, forever."
The two of them waved.
Lydia spun on her heels and began to walk towards her home.
Adrian floated on the surface of the water, watching the beautiful girl dissapear on the hrozin. Then, he turned. He flicked his tail up towards the sky. In a flash of scale and fin, the merman was gone.
A lone seagull gave a soft cry and flew into the distance.