Another Night

You do not dream but startle from fitful sleep at a first timid knock. The Sea outside is calm with nary a wave rocking the Demeter’s bow, but the watch-stander again raps his knuckles against the door, firmer this time.

"Sir? Are you? Sir?"

You open the door to look at the man, shaking in the breeze and sweating despite the cold.

"There is something in the water."

You follow and see: Nixen dance in the deep. Black and green hair floats with the currents, and blue lights shine in their hands. Lanterns made from mother of pearl and deep Sea crystal cast a pale glow on their naked, corpse-white skins. A soundless song ripples through the water, bubbling to the top as breathy promises. The man beside you swallows.

They rise in pairs, clutching hands with their arms crossed. Dark lips form darker smiles that show shark-sharp teeth. Then a fishtail breaks through the surface, a broad fin and scales running up to the joints of the knees, then wet, near translucent skin and seaweed hair around the sex. One shows her head and another lifts her lamp. Her words make no sense, but the Sea calms on her command, the waves turning as clear as a mirror. Two kiss. Long tongues enter open mouths, Oozehead Lampreys writhing all over their bodies. The sluglike growths are finger-small or as thick as a Mariner’s arm. Bloody sacks supping on veins, writhing like snakes and black under the thin skin, the creatures look close to busting. You watch one of the fish women as she arches her back and grabs a wriggling worm and – and the man beside you screams.

He has removed his pants and climbed the railing, digging his fingers deep enough into the metal to crack his nails. The wind tastes like salt but he smiles his dumb smile, unfazed by the pain and the cold. And down below the Nixen sing and moan their voiceless songs. You grab his back and pull him back, safe after an endless glance into the briny abyss. He shivers in your arms and rubs his cock, eyes wide and mouth aquiver. You exhale and slap him back to his senses.

They do not stay.

By the time you have escorted him to his bunk and awoken his replacement only distant lights remain. The waters have darkened, foamy waves beating against the ship, red as wine. But twinkles remain. Streaks of blue and white, hypnotic patterns dancing in the deep.

You warn the man beside you before you head back to bed. He should not look too long at the colours dancing beneath the waves, for the Nixen will look for him. And he should fetch you immediately should they return to the surface.

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