Metanoia

METANOIA

Honnah Patnode

Cover illustration by Natalie Spence

Published by JLB Creatives Publishing at Smashwords

Copyright 2017 Honnah Patnode

All rights reserved.

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Metanoia

Honnah Patnode

One: She Who Was Silent

The universe was not a simple thing. Consequently, the universe did not yield to traditional expectations or societal norms. Oftentimes living things failed to recognize such a basic and obvious truth. Sometimes the most ramshackle buildings held the most spectacular secrets, and the most sophisticated structures contained nothing but dusty, bland placeholders existing without any obvious purpose and offering no inspiration or beauty beyond the first glimpse.

The sea was no exception. Glowing rays of midday sunlight drifted lazily through the atmosphere and danced atop the surface of the vast ocean which so effortlessly dominated the surface of planet Earth. They glinted and reflected on the surface as if it were a mirror, glossy and sheer and prone to showing only the superficial parts of itself, even though what lurked beneath was far more enthralling. Beneath the surface, at the heart of a little cove nestled within a small archipelago, there was a whole world teeming with life—a world which had evaded human discovery for centuries and was content to have done so. It was a perception, a stereotype, or, if one were to take particular offense to it, a prejudice that drove them to hide away from the eyes of land-dwellers and remain in the safety of the endless waters. All the people of this hidden community believed humans were greedy, short-sighted, self-serving, and altogether unpleasant creatures who had no regard for any species but their own—well, all but one.

She lay in the very center of the cove, eyes fixated on the ever-changing mosaic of blues and greens that marked the line where her world ended and another began. She had always been fascinated by that border, the fence drawn by nature and biology itself to separate her race from the humans. Many who were older and wiser than she reasoned that this was the Earth’s way of preserving the culture beneath the waves, preventing the intrusion and inevitable scuff marks humans would bring with their desire to explore and understand. Even at that exact moment, staring up at it, she was consumed by an unquenchable thirst for the feeling of air upon her skin that would only be alleviated by leaping high above the surface and launching into the world of the humans, if only for a few seconds.

A frown tugged at her lips and she shook her head, resigning herself to tracing nameless patterns onto the sand where her hands rested, splayed out from her body. One of them curled inward to brush through the short locks of hair protruding from her head. The longest strands floated carelessly over her forehead. No part of her hair was long enough to reach past the nape of her neck; it set her apart from her kin in appearance. Most of the members of her species grew out their hair long and thick enough to cover their backs and torsos, but she required seaweed wraps to achieve the same effect. There was a great deal more which divided her from her community, however, far below the thin, brittle veil of vanity.

Cordelia?

At once, she curled into a sitting position and crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes swiveled from the glorious canvas of light and liquid above to focus on Nerissa, who was swimming toward her at impressive speed.

What are you doing out here? It’s the middle of the day! Don’t you know that fisherman come here all the time during the day? Nerissa whispered, eyes wide and filled with a muddled combination of wonder and fear. Snatching Cordelia’s wrist as soon as she was close enough to reach it, Nerissa scrutinized her with honey-hued eyes. Cordelia could not help but think of how sweet they looked in the light of day. Her chestnut hair was prettier when floating in bright turquoise waters as well; in the darkness, it was a dull and wholly unexceptional brownish color, but sunlight brought it to life. Cordelia wondered why exactly the pleasures of a sunny day were such a danger when the water was clear without a human in sight. To convey this to Nerissa, she gestured up to the unhindered waves sashaying overhead, but her younger sister did not seem to think the absence of danger was any reason to enjoy the finer pleasantries of the cove. I don’t care if it’s empty, Nerissa huffed, tightened her lips, and poised her hands at her sides. "You never know if some human bottom-feeder is going to show up, and what do you think they’d do if they saw you? If they saw that?" To prove her point, she aimed a clawed finger at Cordelia’s lower half.

When she looked, all Cordelia saw was the shimmering pink scales (the color was very similar, if not identical, to the soft pastel shades that adorned the insides of conch shells) layering one another down the length of her tail, only ending where the appendage fused with the brown, fleshy expanse of her stomach. On her back, a line of scales continued up her spine, accompanied by ridges that jutted like the sails of a ship in the center of her back. One appeared every few inches from the very top portion of her tail to the nape of her neck. The elegant expanse at the end of her tail where it fanned out—similar to the fins of the tropical fish swimming complacently nearby—twitched irritably as she forced herself to tolerate being scolded by a sibling who was younger than she by nearly three years.

Cordelia was careful even if she was curious, but Nerissa was either oblivious or indifferent to this. Cordelia wished she could keep herself in check, sophisticated and intelligent enough to hide herself away just in case a bad human were to be the one to witness her. But, as was typical in her life, something between her lips and lungs betrayed her, and the words would not come. She looked down in shame at the patterns her slender brown fingers had etched into the sand; they were rapidly disappearing as the tides shifted and the water swayed in obedience, following the patterns of the great orbs which chased one another across the horizon day after day, dying and disappearing as if they had never been there at all.

Cordelia’s voice was much the same. Yes, she was a siren and could even have been a respectable one, given the perfectly sharpened points of her teeth and the beauty everyone else claimed she had. But a mention of her beauty was always meant as a consolation and was never granted without the prerequisite of mentioning how she was faulty, a broken member of the siren species. Cordelia had been born mute. She had never been able to speak and was even less able to sing. She could only look on in envy as other sirens of her age—nineteen cycles of the sharks coming and going—learned to toss their hair with infamous allure and entice vulnerable sailors into the deep blue sea. She would never be capable of such a thing, and she presumed she would never understand why it had happened to her. Of all the five children her mother had borne, she was the only one to be born with no song inside of her and no means to release it if she ever gained one.

Nerissa seemed to sense the disheartenment that was churning like stormy waters inside her stomach and her stony features softened into something ever so slightly more pleasant. I know it’s boring in the caves, but you know the rules. No one can be out here during the day. It’s too risky. Cordelia pointed inquisitively at the younger siren and she giggled. I’m only out here to get you, ‘Lia. Come on, please? Mom is worried sick.

About me? Or about me exposing us to the humans? Cordelia wondered. The difference between the two was palpable, and she feared she already knew the answer—her mother’s frequent sidelong glance and tightened lips were more than enough confirmation. With a huff of resignation, she nodded and grudgingly swam in the direction of the submerged caves that burrowed cozily beneath the islands of the cove. Unable to resist the temptation of at least a little fun, she did a flip in the water on the way. What was the superiority of having a tail in favor of legs if one did not use it to one’s advantage? Even Nerissa seemed to approve and mimicked the action a few seconds later. Cordelia smiled. Being the youngest of Cordelia’s clan, Nerissa was the only one who seemed to share any of Cordelia’s inborn playfulness. After exchanging knowing smiles, the two of them ducked into the mouth of the cave wherein resided the rest of their family.

Upon entering, Whistle bounded eagerly toward Nerissa and trilled affectionately when she reached out to welcome him. Whistle was one of the two pet dolphins that resided with Cordelia’s family, a spinner dolphin who had favored Nerissa since its formative years. He had a pale, ghastly scar just behind his eye that marred his otherwise perfect blue-and-gray coloration, and no one was quite sure how it got there. The other dolphin was an old, grouchy bottlenose who did not really favor anyone but who had held a grudge against Cordelia since her birth and never missed an opportunity to nip at her. Its name was irrelevant because it never bothered to come when called.

Cordelia had tried once or twice to bring in a dolphin of her own when their migration cycles brought them within a few miles of the cove, one that would be sure to favor her, but every time, she had failed. Dolphins just did not seem to get along with her as amiably as they did with the other sirens. Perhaps she was just incapable of earning favor.

The idea was reinforced when Cordelia’s mother swished by in a whirl of faded silver scales; in the dim light of the caves, they never shimmered or glistened. Her eyes were just as dull and uninterested. Cordelia, you need to learn that the safety of our entire world depends on not being found out by humans. They are only prey at night, Cordelia, she warned. During the day they are the monsters and, therefore, the ones to be feared.

Cordelia bowed her head. In another life she might have responded in the bitter cadence of rebellion or snark, but that was not the life she had been dealt. Instead, all she could do was avoid the patronizing stare of her mother.

Besides, Mom tutted disapprovingly. She brushed a stray lock of white hair back into the bun sitting stiffly atop her head, it’s not like you could be anything but a risk even at night. You will never be able to face the danger posed by those who walk on the land. You are not a true siren.

Cordelia’s features went stone-cold as her mother’s words hit her like a slap to the face. Something deep within her, something that stretched as far down as the trenches that dipped into the earth and were so easy to get lost in, crumbled. It did not snap—if Cordelia was the sort to snap, she surely would have done so years ago. Instead, it was a part of her soul which had been subject to constant damage, the insistent wear and tear of time and discouragement and glances bristling with judgement, which at last broke through, and she found herself shattered.

Not a true siren, her thoughts repeated with an air of sadness. It was only sensible for those who could sing to view her as less than, she supposed, but it did not feel like it was fair. Cordelia was overwhelmed with the urge to yell and scream and throw things against the limestone walls of the cave that now felt more like a prison than a home. Granted, it was not as though she had been forbidden to leave—she was just immensely discouraged and scolded for doing so. Impeded from speaking her mind, she began to retreat to her room after aiming a respectful bow of her head in the direction of her mother.

Cordelia, Nerissa said softly, snatching Cordelia’s wrist a second time before she could part the seaweed curtain which separated her room from the rest of the cave’s interior and disappear. It isn’t your fault you can’t sing. We know that. Nobody blames you for being like...you know.

Her words did more harm than good. They reminded Cordelia of the feeling of saltwater saturating a fresh wound, making it sting with an odd sensation of heat and anguish scourging the afflicted flesh. The webbed tips of her ears flattened against her head. Her lips tightened and she pulled her wrist gently from the grip of her sister and disappeared behind the curtain that secluded her own little corner of the ocean from everyone else’s. She imagined her absence allowed thoughts of her to dissolve from her mother’s mind as easily as the seafoam that lapped and frothed at the edges of the shore.

Cordelia’s eyes (which were admittedly a bit sore and puffy from holding back the tears that threatened to fall whenever she was reminded of her muteness and its lingering effects on what she was—or rather, what she was supposed to be) surveyed her room with a sense of pride. One may have categorized her self-appreciation as small, perhaps even miniscule, but it was the largest she ever recalled feeling. In the center of the room, jagged black rocks encircled the softest patch of sand to be found in the room, marking the area she had designated as a sleeping area. Conch shells that glowed with their soft pink hues were scattered around the floor, some half-buried in the sand and others sitting confidently atop and not submerging themselves beneath a single grain. Against the far wall was Cordelia’s most prized possession. It sat with an aura of flirtatious vanity on a boulder serving