Phillip Earnest was a heel. A no-good, dirty-rotten, creep. A cheat, too; not to mention a drunk, which was the reason for his current predicament; floating about aimlessly in a none-too-good rowboat, a lifeless heap tangled in rope and wearing nairy a thing beside a pair of trousers. The sea gently rocked him back and forth, stirring the nausea within him, though he tried his best not to retch, and the suns unforgiving rays beat down on him, baking his outsides to a crisp. He groaned, stretching long ways. A lone gull fluttered overhead.
"Is he dead?" a voice asked.
Water lapped gently at the side of the boat.
"I don't know. Looks dead," another voice said.
"No, look. His chest is moving!" a third said. Female.
Phillip furrowed his brow and inhaled deeply, but made no attempt to open his eyes. He was hearing things. That was all. Nothing unusual.
"He sure is ugly."
"Flounder!"
"Well he is. Look at him!"
Feathers rustled, something hovered over him. "No, Flounder's right."
"Erg. Humans give me the creeps."
"Scuttle, if he's not dead, then what is wrong with him?"
"Do you think he can he hear us?"
"Humm. I don't know. Let's see."
Something came close to Phillip' ear. Gulls cried in the distance. Waves clapped against one another, and then, "WHAAAAAAA!" Phillip sat up quickly, eyes snapping open. Arms flailed and grabbed blindly as squinted eyes surveyed the open sea around him. He looked right at Ariel, who looked back in awe. Whoever the redhead was, she was holding a fat looking fish. They both yelled and Phillip backed away, watching in a dazed stupor as the redhead disappeared beneath the waves. The gull flew off, frightened.
Minutes later, trying to ignore the pounding in his head, Phillip crept closer to the boats edge, peering over. His vision blurred, but he fought to see through the glaze. There was no sign of her. His pulse quickened. "Miss?" he called. "Miss?" he struck at the waters surface a few times, squinting into the depth. "Miss! Oh, God. Oh, what have I done? Miss!" He didn't see any sign of a ship anywhere, but that wasn't to say that there couldn't have been a recent sinking. Perhaps she was a survivor, trying to climb aboard. Until he'd startled the life out of her, that was.
Next, Phillip did the only thing that made sense in his current state of mind: he leaned way over the edge and stuck his head into the water, hoping that if he could spot her, there still might be a chance to save her. He may have been a liar and a cheat, but he was not a monster. He had a daughter of his own, after all.
Try as he might, he could see nothing.
Sobered by what may have happened, he gathered the oars and began to row, guided by a dusty old compass won in a game of cards. He decided never to speak of what he had witness to anyone.
Some months later, he'd heard a group of sailors spinning tales of a red-haired water spirit, appearing briefly and then vanishing. It was then that he wondered what he had truly seen, and what had been merely an alcohol-induced illusion. Had he seen the real living legend? Had he actually seen a mermaid? Or was his mind simply trying to cope with the fact that he'd played part, whether intentionally or not, in someones drowning? It wasn't until he heard talk of a crazy, loud-mouthed gull flying too close for it's own good, did he think that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't crazy.
He never did see the red-haired woman again, though he'd heard a certain Princes' new bride bore a striking resemblance to the water spirit so many sailors had seen. Some swore it was her, while others chose not to give in to folklore.
Little dark, not very original, but I wanted to try a new fandom. I used to love The Little Mermaid as a kid, and I'm just starting to get back into it. In my next story, I'll actually try to give Ariel some screen time. =P Critique, comments and flames all welcome.
