La Petite Fille De La Mer - A Short Story

I know my stories usually hide a note of morbid melancholy and flirt with death, but I just can't help it. If you've read a couple of them, you'd known by now. Maybe it's my depressive nature that draws me to the darkness, but what's the meaning of light if there isn't the darkness to make us yearn for it? For every force in nature there is always another, equal and opposite force. In my case, it's the darkness I let myself sink into in order to find my light!

This track has always made me think of a little girl with a sad ending. Maybe it’s the title, la petite fille de la mer, the little girl of the sea, maybe it’s those key notes that echo in my ears like drops of salty water going slowly up and down while a little body is submerged and dragged softly to the bottom. A white dress floating in the blue water. The black hair, the braids that went loose and now spread around this cute, cold white face. Those cheeks that lost their healthy pink color and turned as white as snow. Those brown eyes that tried to stay open, but inevitably closed.

Sinking and sinking she was reaching the bottom. She could see the little bubbles her body made on its way down. Blue, light blue turning to darker and darker. No, it didn’t get darker, it got lighter, brighter! And right there, just before she got to the bottom she saw a hand the fingers of which she knew very well. Then she saw a second one. Those hands had held her many times before. They caressed her soft cheeks, and long black hair. They touched her feverish forehead countless nights and fed her just as many times as she could remember.

Those hands were now holding her again, they did not feel cold like the last time she had touched them, like the last goodbye she had given them. She thought she had lost them for good. But she was wrong. She was so glad she was wrong! When that thing took her mother away she was so angry! So desperate! So weak and devastated! But now she felt happy again! She felt hopeful and loved and protected, because those hands were safely holding her inside them. Her mother’s embrace was there again and she was never going to leave it.

In case you are not familiar with the composer, Vangelis is a fantastic Greek music writer with lots of wonderful pieces. I highly recommend him for moments of relaxation and journeys using your imagination ;)

Thank you for being here and reading this. If you like my writing, you can visit my blog for more ;) 

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Until my next post,
Steem on and keep smiling, people!