Merman 4

"So how much do you think the replacement cost will be for the deck?

Gee, I can’t get my wife to see this. If I buy this property,

I need that wooden deck replaced as soon as possible—brand new and good to go."

Dave was about to give John a rundown of costs

when his phone buzzed.

The vibration rattled through his hand longer than it should have,

like an echo underwater.

"Excuse me, John, I need to take this."

It was Eddie.

"Hey Dave, listen—you know this Callum guy,

the Merman book author?

Just had a quick lunch with him. Wow. He’s sharp. Articulate, full of history about this town.

Honestly, he blew me away.

My app wasn’t working so I got him to sign on a napkin instead. That still counts as an autograph for me!

Anyway, how’s the showing going?"

Dave pressed a palm against his temple. The words sounded warped,

as though Eddie were speaking from the bottom of a well.

"I think John’s interested," Dave muttered.

"He’s talking about renovating the wooden deck.

Not sure when it was built, but yeah, it needs work.

So—are you stopping by tonight? I know, you’re planning to check in at the hotel

in town before Laura gets in…"

Eddie raised his eyebrow, though Dave couldn’t remember

if he’d seen Eddie’s face or just imagined it.

"You mean—do you want me to make dinner?

Because number one, you don’t know how, and number two, you’re damn lazy."

Dave laughed automatically, though the sound came out hollow. "Yes, exactly that."

Eddie grinned—or maybe the phone glitched.

"Oh yeah, got the hotel settled—Laura will drive up here, probably tomorrow afternoon tops.

She finally got some time off and wants to meet you.

Today I found this seafood place in the center of town—we can go there. Sound good?"

Dave nodded, though no one was in front of him.

The room tilted, his stomach rolling as though the floor were a deck at sea.

His throat filled with brine. He doubled over and vomited, the taste sharp and metallic.

——————————————————————————————————-

A hand tapped his shoulder. Someone pressed a napkin into his palm—

the same one with Callum’s signature already scrawled across it.

"You okay? Did you eat those magic mushrooms?

That stuff wrecks your insides. First time I tried it—amazing.

Next day? Spent the whole morning glued to the toilet."

Dave looked up. Eddie, the same guy who made breakfast, met the Merman author and plans

to stop by for dinner after booking a hotel room for Laura.

But….he’s younger, impossibly younger.

Music thumped faintly around them, but when Dave turned,

the house was faceless—its walls shifting like a mirage.

"I’m Eddie. And you are…?"

Dave’s mouth was dry. "Dave. Just Dave."

A slim hand slid across Eddie’s arm.

Laura. Except water dripped from her fingers, pattering against the grass.

"Okay, Just Dave, I gotta go with my girl. See you around."

Eddie flashed a grin, but his teeth gleamed too brightly. "Nice meeting you."

———————————————————————————————————————-

Dave blinked. When his eyes opened, he was back in his bedroom.

By the curtain, glowing faintly in the moonlight, stood the Merman.

His silhouette rippled like a reflection disturbed by waves.

The curtain stirred though the air was still.

"You can breathe outside the water?" Dave whispered, chest tight.

The Merman smiled, voice low and lyrical.

"He’s not bad looking, is he? For someone who still thinks that he’s living his reality."

He gestured toward the window where Eddie’s car pulled away, headlights carving the night.

Dave’s eyes widened. The Merman had legs, pale and glistening.

"And you have legs?"

A blush colored the Merman’s cheeks.

"And what’s next—that I have…?"

His words trailed, leaving only the crash of an unseen tide.

Dave yanked the sheet tighter across his chest.

"Am I still dreaming? This is too much. Too confusing."

The Merman moved in a blur, tearing the cover away.

His body pressed against Dave’s, cold and unyielding. "Then let me simplify it for you."

———————————————————————————————————

The room dissolved. The bed slickened beneath Dave’s fingers, fibers turning to seaweed.

Water filled his lungs, burning, until—no.

He could breathe. He was lying on a bed of pink sea grass,

the ocean dark and endless above.

"Tell me what’s going on," Dave gasped. "Am I dead?"

The Merman laughed softly, the sound carrying like distant waves.

"Dead? You? That’s absurd. You’re not dead, Dave. People like us, don’t know death"

Dave pushed at him, but the Merman was impossibly strong.

"Like us? What exactly do you mean? Why am I moving through different times?

What did you do to me?"

The Merman’s eyes shimmered with something unreadable,

like moonlight caught in deep water.

He sighed. "Wrong question. You should be asking—what did you do to yourself?"

Before Dave could answer, the Merman kissed him.

Slowly at first, salt searing Dave’s lips, then deeper—urgent, consuming.

The ocean rushed into him, filling his chest, drowning and delivering ecstasy at once.

His eyes flew wide as the kiss overwhelmed him—

pleasure, terror, and the unbearable truth of who he really was.