Author's Note: I first got the idea to do a summer novel like this by watching the new Pirates movie, where there is a mermaid romance involved, but I thought it was way overdone. I wanted to do one, spin it on its head, and make it real. As real as it could be. And this is the result. It's only an idea for now. I just wanted to get it written down. I'll probably write the first chapter, and then we'll see where we go from there! Also, I made a cover for it! Note, I don't own the image. Tell me what you think! Thanks. :)
Photo credit: Drowning by Krynicki found on deviantart.com.
A Young Adult Novel
There are legends. As many as one could tell of their strange living. In our world. Gone seemingly unnoticed, except in your books of magical lands, and pirate adventures. You can easily go to your local library, find an overwhelming amount of text, and submerge yourself within them, like a flipped coin dropped into black depths of the sea. Lost in the waves of lore.
There are myths still, breathless whispers from the old lore of the sea village of their existence. Passed down by generation to generation of the sea-folk that live around these parts that tell of their being. As old as the ancient mysterious myths that circle the full moon. Their mystical calling by the lustrous light. But still there are those who don’t believe. But these tales must come from small truths, or there wouldn’t be any at all to tell.
These stories are told by the old, long-since retired seamen, and women too; sailors of a time bygone, one in particular with a long scraggily white beard, and a missing eye: the other gone haplessly blind, who shadows the corner of the town’s seaside pub: The Gull’s Nest. His right hand shakes unusually and is gnarled with scabbed-over scars and liver splotches, much like the rest of his body; he walks with a cane: you can hear him coming, before you see him, and he can feel when a bad storm’s coming in his bones. He’s never wrong.
Almost everyone ignores him though on anything unrelated to weather, and for good reason. He’s crazy. Always babbling on about things now no one cares to listen to, in this day and age, except for the children who on occasion stop and listen, wide-eyed with wonder; but many of the mothers won’t let their children go anywhere around the old man, or once they get a look of Old Man Hagins and instantly carry them away.
I’ve seen this a great deal, because I work in the nearby shipyard as a deckhand for the Maryanne. I mainly do the cleaning, and lower-end jobs that have to be done, but it’s work all the same.
But I’ve realized, Old Man Hagins isn’t quite as insane as he would lead one on to believe. What he speaks of is true, even if garbled and unintelligible to anyone else who’s listening by chance. For I have seen it with my own eyes. Felt it. They’re real just as you and I. Call me whatever you want but don’t call me a liar. Because if these stories, the unexplainable myths aren’t real, then I wouldn’t be here. I’d more than likely be dead. Scratch that. I would be dead.
My name is Aaron Warren. This is my story. Of my life here. Granted, it’s not the most interesting to begin with. Honestly, I could quite possibly be a contender for having one of the most boring, tedious lives of an eighteen-year-old boy living in the farthest northeastern state you can get before hitting the dark, cold shroud of sea beyond. But that quickly changed. Let me assure you it does get interesting. And that moment began exactly when I almost drowned.
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