Treacherous is the word

People think they know what mermaids look like, but they’re wrong. I know. I’ve seen one. She had long hair, yes, but it wasn’t flowing. It was braided into a bun on the top of her head, with a stick of coral poking out of one side. There was a flowing red skirt around her waist that complimented the deep scarlet and shining white of her scales. And she was sunbathing on a rock, near the shore, a cheeky smile on her beautiful face as the sun dried the water off her smooth dark skin.

Long before you were born, your father promised his firstborn to otherworldly beings in exchange of power. In a twist of fate, your mother also promised her firstborn to dark gods.  I was raised on the sound of thunder and the smell of brimstone; the feeling of heavy rain on my skin and the weight of crowns made of bones on my head. I grew up surrounded by battle and blood and carnage, but came home to soft bedding and sweet, comforting words. I was trained to slay my enemies and outwit my rivals. I was taught to be kind and mindful. I learned to protect my people. I am meant to be a bridge between two worlds.   But I am an outsider in both of them.  My homeworld didn’t want me. I was exchanged for power and for wealth. Two secret bargains that collided on my birth. On a normal Sunday afternoon, I came into my world screeching and was handed over onto eager hands collecting their prize. Eager hands that refused to let me go when other collectors showed up. But gods and ch...

Ellette was fuming. She always was after a long shift. But after all these years, Roy just found it hilarious. His lovely fairy could not stand people lying to her, and yet her job mainly consisted of people doing exactly that. Luckily, none of their friends had ever tried to lie in front of her. They all knew it made her rage, and they all loved her too much. Roy’s parents had been another story. His mom had indeed lied to Ellette a few times, mainly on the subject of being okay with the planning of their wedding. But Ellette had never found out, and Roy thanked the gods for small mercies.  “I just don’t understand,” she was frustratedly screaming from the kitchen. “How do you just look someone in the eyes and lie.”  Roy chuckled. “I think your kind’s version of lying is much more frustrating Elle.” They had had this same conversation so many times, but it seemed to help Ellette wind down, so he indulged her every time.  “We only developed that to protect ourselves from ...

She was known far and wide for her beauty. She was envied by the goddesses. She was blamed for the war. As if her mere existence was the sin of humanity. She was used, possessed, and eventually discarded. But she was more than what they saw.  Helena was fierce. Helena was a fighter. But how can you not be when they marry you to someone you don’t love? And how could you not be fooled by the promise of love and care? Helena was tempted. And she travelled the seas. She travelled as a queen, as a trophy, as the spoils of the war to come. And she travelled with the hope of more. But all she found was fear. Fear and war.  Helena was much more than her pretty face. She was much more than a trophy. And still, men fought for her possession. Men fought and died. Cities burned and crumbled. Gods meddled in the affairs of mortals.  Helena was smart. She saw what was coming, but she kept quiet. She held her dagger under her dress. And she bid her time. She would one day find her home....

It’s quiet. The wind rustles through the trees. The fog hangs heavy in the air. A seagull cries in the distance. The cathedral spirals stab at the sky. Rain prickles my skin. I’m smothered by the wet pavement. It’s rumbling. I have my headphones on. My nails dig into my palms. The wind tousles my hair. She stands in the middle of the road. Her clothes barely fit anymore. A storm brews in her eyes. It’s roaring. A voice tears her throat. A claw rips her sweater. Her feet carry her to the edge. The storm meets the meadow. A car screeches in the background. The line snaps in her hands. It’s quiet. The wind rustles through the trees. The fog hangs heavy in the air. A seagull cries in the distance. The cathedral spirals stab at the sky. A ripple makes its way to the shore. An echo vibrates in the air.

Anxiety sleeps somewhere in your brain. It’s there; curled up under a mess of blankets, dozing off until it isn’t. And then she open one eye sleepily. She stirs. Maybe she stretches. Sometimes she goes back to sleep without causing too much of a ruckus, turns over and pulls the blankets back over her head. Other times she wakes up energized and goes for a run. She makes you gasp for air. She stomps on your chest. She rocks back and forth in your gestures, your mannerisms. Longing is quite similarly tucked under a blanket. He snores softly. He’s much gentler than Anxiety. He regards the world lazily from his seat in your chest. He spreads the warm blanket over you. Then he rips it off, he lets the cold rush in. He brushes feathers across your skin, in touches that aren’t really there. He sneaks around the corner, forever out of reach. He’s gentler because he doesn’t take your breath away. He simply holds your heart tight, in bone-crushing hugs. Sometimes unwelcome. Mostly just sad.

Dylan had lost the ability to cry for herself a long time ago. When she summoned tears for her pain, they wouldn’t come. So she learnt how to let things out through other methods.  She wrote, she danced, she sang, she took pictures and doodled ugly drawings in stranded pieces of paper. She listened to other people’s words, other people’s problems. Dylan was the Moon and the Stars. She reflected everyone else’s light, brought it back into focus. And she shone when she was alone. She helped wherever she could. And she forgot she was important: everyone else was first.  Dylan felt other people’s feelings. She felt everything so strongly. She felt the wing rushing under Icarus’ wings. She felt the thrill, and the excitement. And she felt the heat of the Sun, and the panic and the fall. Sometimes, emotions were simply too much, they were painful. She relished the tightness in her chest, though; it told her she was alive.  But, sadly, it was only through other people’s p...