Carried On As Always

I saw a very pregnant mermaid sitting on a jag of ancient and black volcanic rock, in the clear and blue lagoon.

She looked out upon the sea, the endless water, while softly stroking her plump belly. She was sorrowful, and her tears held great wrath.

Her aquamarine tale with it’s rainbow of sparkling scales, was gashed with old scars and some fresher wounds. Her back, too, showed the marks of our war here.

These warm, southern seas, our warships fought and burned and darkened the seas with dead and wreckage and spilled oil.

We knew the merpeople were here, that this was their home since time out of mind, we just hadn’t cared, we’d just carried on as always.

The mermaid turned, and she saw me, and she opened her mouth to howl at me. She twisted her face in hatred and rage, obscene curses of an eternal tongue.

And she was gone beneath the sea, her and her child to be, to her blasted and wrecked home, and I was filled with shame.

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