First Fire

In this moment, a strange epiphany revealed itself to him. He noticed how empty his arms felt. Now he held his Catch safe in them. Had it only been a day since the morning when his nets yielded two sweet dark eyes luring him in with all their wonder? Had it only been a day that all that laughter and adventure had washed over them like the waves of green and blue foamy sunlight exploding and crashing in all directions? Merely one day of him marveling at her and she at him? Yes. A day and no more. Yet he felt like he had aged. Was it a spell? He heard of the Mermaids who took able men away never to be heard of from the crew again. Do they turn them to geezers so old and wise that they evaporate like the steam off of the square rigger in the morning?

A Chuckle bubbled up within him at the thought. With a tranquil sigh, he turned his eyes out across the breezy Island night- his ears took in the Nocturne's Symphony with it's romantic orchestra of crickets, frogs, a solitary owl, and the crackle of the fire as it licked at the kindling and drift wood. What a simple comfort this was.
He settled into his rising tenderness as his Catch stirred to respond in half conscious gratitude. Fond smiles crossed his big face as he took in her light snores, occasional moans, and her uttering of a strange language. It tickled him further down into the depths of his new adoration. It was a strange thing for him.

It was well after all the excitement as he took in her first experience seeing his creation of sparks and then his making of fire. He thought he was teaching his Catch all there was to know about a campfire fire but...then he watched her naked discovery as the brilliant light burned in those dark eyes of hers and the vast ocean of feelings washing over her.

She became so contented, that before long, she was passing out in it's glow with those glittering, scaly- and now-heavy eyelids of hers. Perhaps she was teaching him all about warmth itself- especially the warmth within that forgotten cold heavy stone of a heart somewhere in his chest. What was coming over him now? The warmth rose up within him, crackling with a tenderness as sanguine sparks flew up in the air. How peaceful and yet how exciting.
Maybe more so than the thrill of the open sea with 30-odd fellow grunts. What was it that sent him on a ship with a bunch of boys, some of whom were 60 years old. They had their songs, they had their lore, their scary stories, their sad philosophies, their collective manly loneliness...

Enjoy a behind-the-scenes-painting of my new Mermaid Story, "First Fire" using some pencil, water colors, and my trusty 'dipping' fountain pen as I read you the story. Come sit by the fire... This was made as part of the 'Mermay' challenge inwhich I endeavered to make one illustrated Mermaid story everyday for the month of 'Mermay'.

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