Chapter Three

Domma was with Melissa for a week before they could speak to each other. In that time they developed a language that was a little hers and a little English and Domma took a lot of baths.

 

Domma was not her real name. Her real name was unpronounceable by Melissa who couldn’t drop her voice low enough anyway. It was close enough.

 

In the week, though, Domma never changed her story and there was something, maybe just missing having another person in the house, that made Melissa not kick the crazy woman out. Though, her story just seemed more and more unlikely as she told it over and over again.

 

“I am a water sprite,” Domma said. “That’s what the people of Helena called us and they made us look so beautiful in their paintings that, when we have to talk to people, that’s the form we take. I can take any form. Most of the time, I’m a dugong.”

 

Melissa tried to imagine this beautiful woman looking like a manatee and failed. Early sailors, it was said, often mistook the large creatures for young women on long sea voyages, thus the creation of the mermaid myth, but it was hard to see how anyone could mistake the one for the other.

 

“So why are you here?” Melissa asked. Dinners in her apartment were becoming alarmingly gourmet now that Domma was eating there. Tonight, they were eating something with seaweed and shrimp tangled in it. It was good, though, very salty.

 

“To find the horn,” Domma said.

 

Melissa sighed.

 

“I don’t have it. I’ve never had it. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

 

Domma frowned.

 

“You must. You are her descendant, I’m sure of it. You are Eleiomomae,” she said.

 

Melissa could only shake her head.

 

“Never heard of her,” she said.

 

“I can’t believe that. You must have. It’s your duty,” she said.

 

This, and asking for the horn, had been the first things translated and Melissa was getting tired of explaining to her that it was simply impossible. Her mother, Janice, had never given her a horn, nor had she ever seen one in the house. If they’d ever had a horn that was as valuable as Domma made it out to be Janice had probably sold it years ago.

 

The whole reason that Domma was certain that she was the descendant of Eleiomomae in the first place was because she’d helped her. Apparently, she’d had a glamour spell cast and only the descendant could see through it. It was clear to Melissa that the woman’s problem was only getting worse and she was now creating some magical world in order to keep it up. Yet, she didn’t call the police, she didn’t call the state hospital and have the woman taken away. Her world still tilted, ever so slightly, whenever she really looked at the woman. So, she tried not to.

 

Domma stood up and paced the room, muttering in her unintelligible language, and Melissa watched her. The language was what still made her wonder, it was unlike any language Melissa, who had worked briefly for an international hotel and had come in contact with many foreigners, was familiar with, that and the ethereal quality in which she moved. Her hair, especially, did strange anti-gravity things that always made it seem as if she were swimming, her hair fanning out behind her on the currents.

 

Suddenly, Domma turned to her and grabbed her arm. She forced Melissa to look into her eyes. Melissa tried to jerk away but the woman was amazingly powerful for as tiny as she seemed.

 

“You feel that, don’t you,” Domma said. Her smile became predatory and shark-like, her eyes darkened. “You feel the call and you refuse to answer it even though you know it’s important. I need your help. I need the help of the Eleiomomae.”

 

Melissa, trapped by the more powerful woman, was forced to suffer the tilting sensation, she was forced to stay there, her mind twisting and turning, the hard lines of reality melting away. She had felt this way once before, sick on the verge of puking, when she’d gotten very drunk once, but there was no sickness here, no giggling sickness, just the tilting.

 

She fell to her knees and was suddenly very weak and very afraid of the woman above her whose eyes had suddenly become black and formless, the empty void of shark’s eyes. Her eyes, which had been blue on a few minutes ago, were now deep and getting deeper, deeper, deeper. Until finally, she was inside them and the whole world was strange and different, less formed.

 

Domma let go of her and stood back a little. Melissa stayed on the ground in a half-crouch for a moment. The world had stopped tilting but now it was because it had been turned completely on its axis, there was no more tilt left. The walls of her apartment, which were a boring, industrial white, now seemed to pulsate somehow. Nothing seemed to have been built but grown up organically. It was a strange sensation but not entirely new. She felt the strangest feeling of déjà vu.

 

“What did you do to me?” she asked Domma.

 

The woman looked down at her with her eyes still dark and with an expression that was unrecognizable.

 

“I showed you who you are, Eleiomomae.”

Reviews

[OT]

ooo I must say I'm really enjoying this haha the woman is so strange, and now you've incorporated elements of magic which are interesting! it's not too potent like some sort of full on spell, but it's like the kind of ancient mysticism which is intriguing, reminding the saviour's ancestor kind of thing - which I like!!

good structure, clear flow!! strong solid story, a few tiny grammar issues which you'll notice if you read aloud (always the same simple things like commas) and perhaps shorten some sentences, but this is all mostly cosmetic!! really liked this!!! great story!