Creative Challenge #5

The Prompt Is: Lesbian Mermaid

This short story is based on a single phrase, word, or sentence that serves as today’s writing prompt. The Creative Challenge is to write daily for 30 consecutive days. Each prompt was written by another creative (in this case, my partner) and is revealed on the day, precluding the opportunity for planning ahead. The purpose of this exercise is to be freely creative. Not all prompts will be posted.

Lesbian Mermaid

All mermaids are "lesbian". Ugh, leave it to humans to put such ugly labels on everything.

Cloral had met the ladies of Lesbos back in the days when humans were far less common and even less dangerous. They were kind to her, though they couldn't understand her, and they'd learned much about the ways of the sea while she’d staid with them. That being said, she’d found that they were terribly ugly, even for humans, and they hadn't exactly been gifted any wit either. Yes, Cloral mused, human men had certainly named "lesbians" to be intentionally cruel.

Humans had a way of forcing everything into a tiny hole of understanding. Sailors who she'd met over the histories were lusting, flea-ridden brutes who, on many occasion, had attempted to find her genitalia.

 She'd politely explain that no, she was not human and that's simply not how mermaids functioned—you know, biologically—but they'd been very insistent.

So, she'd invite them into the water to show them exactly what she meant. See, no breasts, no orifice for birthing children, see? They'd grope and touch and search with their feeble little human limbs. I mean really, it was the least she could do for the pathetic creatures, and they were practically mad from the long months at sea, you know.

Of course, most of them would drown, too intent on their sex-fueled lusts and thoughts of raping a defenseless mermaid (Ha! As if they could even comprehend her power) to realize that no, in fact, there were no holes and yes, in fact, they had not taken a breath in almost two minutes.

She almost felt bad for a few of them. Almost. Then again, she had almost felt bad for the merciless sea wolves when they'd wandered a bit too close to her egg-den and she'd been forced to kill the whole pod. Their black and white hides did make wonderful blankets, however, and her eggs were cold. Plus, the teeth were excellent in a good kelp salad.

Her mate, Lochnarn, was in high spirits today, as tomorrow was hatch-day.

"Cloral my love, what do you ponder so deeply? It's nearly mealtime and I'd like some help in prepping the eel," she said whimsically. "Oh, I do hope our babies like eel as much as I do."

"Just a silly thought," Cloral mused. "Can you believe humans named female mates lesbians? After those hideous island women?"

"Oh, why bother with thinking about the wretches anyway?" Loch said. "They're nearly gone as l've heard it told. A few more centuries and we won't need to worry about 'em ever again. Imagine that, marching toward your own quick extinction with all the determination of a hermit looking for shells. You'd think they'd evolve enough brains to realize."  

"I suppose," Cloral wasn't really listening. Her thoughts had strayed to those sea-wolf carcasses and my, those jawbones would make excellent bowls!

"Almost time to eat. Can you chop the eel?" Loch was dicing shrimp. "Cloral?" Loch kissed her on the gills, and Cloral felt her whole body surge with affection. Oh how she loved. The kind of love humans wrote stories about but never fully understood.

"Yes, of course, my love," she finally responded, her tail fin vibrating pleasantly, and she began to chop eel.