Friday, November 15, 2013
Grandma has a shell. It's big and white and opens out like a wave on the beach. The inside of it is pink and smooth. She says I can pick it up as long as I use both hands. I like to hold it from the inside; my fingers curve underneath into a hidden chamber. If I could shrink down and slip inside, I bet I'd slide round and round like on a spiral slide.
I love to hold the shell to my ear and listen to the ocean roar. Some adults say it is only the noise outside your head, echoing inside the shell. Grandma says, don't listen to them. They may be grown up but they still are not old and wise enough to understand. Grandma says, keep believing and if you listen very hard and are very lucky, you might hear the mermaids sing.
Monday, November 4, 2013
Mermaids are forever losing their coins, and if you ask them what they are shopping for, they cannot tell you. They only know that it is what human girls do and so they must do it too. They are quite silly creatures at heart.
And so they grab their jellyfish bags, grasping them by the tentacles, and fill them with coins harvested from sand dollar beds. Then off they go.
They make so much noise, giggling and gossiping as they swim along, they cannot help but attract attention. It is the seals who notice them first and cannot resist this call to mischief; they are not called the "clowns of the sea" for nothing. As the mermaids begin their ascent, the seals strike, zooming through the gaggle of girls, tumbling them head over tail and freeing their purses, which slowly undulate away.
The mermaids give chase - the shopping forgotten - while their coins drift down to the floor. Some are carried by the tide and swept up to shore, there to be found by a lucky child, collecting treasures from the sea.