Human Metamorphosis by Way of Seawater

Human metamorphosis, I thought. This is it. The moment every eight-year-old girl has dreamed about. Finally, the wish I made twenty-four years ago has come true.

I sat there, bright sun blaring down on my face. It was semi-blinding, but that was alright. Nothing that amazing moment couldn’t handle. I blinked and watched the sun sparkle on my surroundings. Everything was sparkly. Life was sparkly. Human metamorphosis was sparkly from the bright sun glinting off my lower half.

Perfect, I thought. What should I do first? I suppose it would be wise to take it easy. No sudden movements. The body must get used to its changes. I don’t want to injury myself—if I break something what sort of doctor could I call to treat me?

Human metamorphosis is a miraculous thing. Not everyone gets to do it. I had given up hope that I would get to experience this change that I wished for twenty-four years ago. It certainly was a long time coming. No matter, it is here!

The salty water whooshed by my face, smacking into the beach not far behind me. My body settled more comfortably into the sand. My head was set against a sand pillow, which seemed fitting given my condition. The ocean was my new home.

The water covered me, making me glisten as I rested on the beach there, so very close to shore. Six inches was all the water had for depth, but I didn’t need a lot, certainly not while I was still getting my bearings in that new body. I closed my eyes a moment on that sand bed. I let the tiny force that was left of the next wave wash against my hair. After all, my new kind always has a way of really getting an elegant flow to hair—swooshing and fluttering prettily with the current.

I arched my back in a slight stretch, showing off how at home I had become in my surroundings. I let out a luxurious sigh, embracing it all. I couldn’t explain it. I didn’t know what sort of magic it was, but somehow when I laid myself down flat in that water, I transformed into half human, half fish. There I sat, the world’s newest mermaid.

Unfortunately that luxurious sigh I mentioned started a downward spiral. My lips were parted, and seawater rushed in with an unexpectedly strong wave. The salt pushed its way down my throat, leaving it feeling raw and bitter. That can’t be right, I thought as I raked my fingers into the sand.

Sand was swirling around me, clinging here and there and everywhere. It was sprinkled on my face, smoothed around my chest, hung heavy in my hair. That sensation will take some getting used to, my inner pessimist grumbled.

And then the grand finale—the final moments of my foray with human metamorphosis. An even bigger and even more unexpected wave flooded against me. It sent my body tumbling like a shell against the sandy floor. Roll, scrape, slap, gasp. I pulled my undeniably air-breathing face up from beneath the wave, and leveled my eyes at one undeniably human leg propped upright in the surf. I let out another sigh, my mouth safe this time from oncoming seawater as the words tumbled out.

Definitely still not a mermaid. Damn it.

Alright, so I might not have actually thought I was a mermaid this afternoon, but thirty-two years is not too old to pretend. I can almost feel my fin now, scales shimmering in the midday sun.