The Tale of Toco

Fantasy

Silence. The glass surface stood still. No ripple, wave or tide dreamt to awaken the eerie ocean. A beautiful, towering mist skirted the horizon and clung to the black starless carpet overhead. Streams of pale, silvery light parted the darkness, hailing the large, round, full moon.

No fisherman dared to venture into the waters of Toco, at this time of the year, especially not this close to midnight.

Over the time, the village had forgotten why no one wanted to traverse the waters at this time each year. The story had been muddled and no one truly knew why but they were all wise enough not to take the chance to find out why it was so dangerous.

It was almost a century ago…

Time passed and the ocean stood still. Silhouettes of boats cast themselves against the dark-blue sky and a sliver of the crescent almost frowned upon her from its chariot on high. Like a dying Phoenix the Sun smouldered, as its golden streaks faded into nothingness and took away her threads of warmth.

The silent glass surface slept and hid its dreams from the World.

She was supposed to be here but not alone. She shouldn’t have come but she came anyway. Everything was serene, beautiful, pure perfection. Her soul longed to be one with this timeless tapestry of a romantic symphony, but she was not beautiful. She could not tarnish the ocean’s purity.

The pearly moonlight danced off her almost transparent skin as her petite feet dangled mere inches from the eerie luminescence below.  Elene gazed from her throne of a hull and longed to pierce the Ocean’s grandeur with her ugly pointed toes, made so clumsily for swimming. 

An almost silent swish flickered beneath the water and she knew he was here. Poseidon’s son visited every night but never seemed to be aware of her presence. Perhaps he was ashamed to call her one of his own. Perhaps he was blind. The only time he ever looked, was mere months ago.

A night of splendour, which will forever dwell in the weak mind of Elene, as she sits here every night, afraid to delve into the deep where she belongs.  It was not love at first sight but she was intrigued. Never had she seen such magnificence. The God of perfection crafted his being and stole the most coveted Marlin’s tale to create this unblemished Merman. Poseidon’s son had never met someone from the other world and was cautious in doing so. Elene’s bravery got the better of her that night.

She slithered off into the great blue and swam to the clumsy swaying of her legs, attempting to follow her Merman. She never resurfaced, by choice and he never saved her, by choice. Now, at the dusk of each day, she sits on her boat and musters the courage to slither in, but she is afraid. And she will forever linger in abandonment, too afraid to do in death, what she did in the last breath of her life.

As time strolled by, Elene became less timid and more forceful in nature. In less than a year, fishermen began to disappear. Some attributed this to Elene, who will forever be in mourning, but no one truly knows. They even say that the mist is her way of blending in from the great beyond, and sometimes if you listen very carefully, you can hear the wailing of a beautiful, fierce but broken soul.