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The Mermaid's Garden
The Mermaid's Garden
The Mermaid's Garden
Ebook32 pages20 minutes

The Mermaid's Garden

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A short tale of loss, grief, revenge, and self-torment.

Tomiko was a bored Tokyo office worker until she met Sanji. She couldn't tell whether he was stalking her or falling in love. But after years alone, Tomiko longed for something more. Sanji was perfectly wrong for her.
Now, transformed into a mermaid and bound to her grotto under sea, she longs for revenge. Only Sanji's death can release her. Will she ever have the chance for vengeance or will she be trapped forever under the sea?

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJul 26, 2018
ISBN9780463228050
The Mermaid's Garden

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    Book preview

    The Mermaid's Garden - Andrew W. McCollough

    THE MERMAID'S GARDEN

    Andrew W McCollough

    Copyright © 2018 Andrew W McCollough

    All rights reserved.

    Cover image is  from The Little Mermaid (1911)  illustrated by Edmund Dulac

    To those discarded.

    https://andrewmccollough.com/

    I will eat seaweed every day in my grotto under the sea, far from clanging trains and cramped black-tarred streets and the tangled wire nets that catch the sky. I will eat the sea-soaked kelp strands here, beside the mounded rocks and sea wrack. Alone, from now on, in my sea-garden below the high-dropping cliffs, where cormorants and kestrels hover, where once we walked together along the cliff-paths.

    Little bird, little bird. Sanji called me, for my pretty voice, for my delicate, restless hands flitting here or there. Sanji dropped words like seeds to bait his net. Flattering words, and I was a hungry bird.

    I remember the way it was, there on the cliffs. The grass rolling waves green to aquamarine like the sea below. From up there the sea moves silently beneath the wind, even as the waves flash white and fling spray into clouds. Remembrances pile like the broken stones in the cairn.

    Here, the sea drowns my eyes. Here, the kelp strands growing through the rock mound tangle themselves around me. Each pebble, green, aquamarine, speckled like the birds, reminds me of the life I threw away and the burden of my garden undersea.

    The currents stir around the mound; the kelp sways and lifts, drifts and settles roots into the rocks; bubbles break free and rise, pebbles tilt and tumble down the wrack of stone and shells. I drift close and watch. The stones seek to bury themselves under the silt, hid unseen, like lumps under the skin, unnoticed,

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