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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 2 (v.1)

Submitted: October 14, 2013

Reads: 27

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Submitted: October 14, 2013



Part 2

“I made it!” she yelled into the bottom of the ocean. “I actually made it!” she continued, smiling widely. With a small, content sigh, she did a three hundred-sixty degree turn, watching the bubbles float to the surface as she swam farther away. If her senses were right, she was somewhere near the Caribbean Islands. If it was possible, she would’ve smiled wider.

I’m in the Caribbean islands, She thought, as she quietly swam towards the shore. When she surfaced, she kept whatever was below her neck underwater -- mostly because her dorsal fin was still out. When she saw no one, she climbed out the water, and looked down at her feet. With a small tilt of her head, she wiggled her webbed feet — they were webbed like ducks. Biting her lip, and a little worried, she glanced at her hands. They were webbed too. “Maybe it’s normal…for me.” she muttered, looking back up towards the trees and small houses. Poking her lips out, she marched towards the houses. “At least, I hope they're houses…” she whispered, looking around.

There was a sound in the trees, and she jerked away from it. Someone or something, was there…watching her. Flexing her webbed fingers, she ran back to the water and dived in head first. “That was close...” she muttered to herself, sighing and placing her hand on her chest. Hesitantly, she surfaced again, but only for a few seconds. She wanted to see how late it was. Unsatisfied that it was getting dark, she swam down the ocean floor and lay on her back. She grunted. She was alone. She was hungry. Her stomach was moving in weird places, like something inside was trying to kick itself out of her. It just wasn’t her night.


She woke up in the middle of the night in terrible pain.

She felt the tears coming down her face, but couldn’t see them. From instinct, she knew she was giving birth, but it was frustrating because she was by herself and she didn’t know what to do about it. She didn’t even know where the child had come from and without thinking about it, she managed to get up, and swim away from the island. She kept swimming and swimming until she finally cramped up—unable to swim anymore.

Not really sure where she was anymore, she let herself float to the surface of the water. For sure, she thought she was going to die--her and her unborn baby. But, when she closed her eyes to let death come to her and the child, she was surprised that she was flying. Flying? She thought. Is that even possible.

She was going to open her eyes to see, but, before she could, she had started screaming again. The pain was back and it was a thousand times worst…because the baby was actually coming this time. Someone—that wasn’t her---was yelling so she could hear. “Just calm down and push, Miss!” the person yelled over her screaming. And, after a few more seconds, she did just that.


The man, known as Third, handed the woman back her baby. He watched as she held it close, almost as if she was refusing to some invisible person to let him go. Third continued to watch the two, but took a few steps back. He ran his hand through his sandy blond hair, and leaned back against a nearby tree.

“What are you going to name him?” he finally asked. As he waited for her to answer, he tried remembering everything he noticed about her: The fact that she had gills on her neck; her green eyes; her shoulder length brown hair; her caramel colored skin. He’d never forget her—especially after he noticed that her feet and hands were webbed.

His hand twitched and he was tempted to grab his camera, but he thought better of it and bit his lip. That’s when she finally answered, “Tazz.” She paused, kissing the boy on his forehead. “My child’s name is Tazz.” Third couldn’t help it, he made a face, and stared at her. “Tazz?” he repeated, rubbing his chin. “Why?”

She seemed to think about it for a quick second, and the gills on her neck opened, then closed. “Because, it’s the name of someone unpredictable. Plus, since he’s half shark, that makes him just that.” She told him. Third chuckled and then silenced his laughing when she added, “Plus, I can tell he’ll have a temper and be a wild kid.”

Third gave her a nod. It made since--at least he seemed to think it did. “Where is he going to stay?” He asked her his last question, and he pushed himself off the tree, puffing up his cheeks, and then blowing the air out roughly. She surprised him by saying, “With you.” He almost choked on air. Clearing his throat, he blinked, and rubbed his eyes, “Excuse me?”

She smiled, and repeated herself happily. “With you. He can’t stay with me until he learns how to swim on his own.” She glanced back at the ocean sadly. “There’s still someone who’s looking for me. So it’ll be too dangerous for me to teach him now.” She paused, and then stood, kissing her son on his forehead once more, before handing him over to Third. “I’ll come back in a few years, when he’s older. I might even visit every now and then, if I can.” Third watched her turn completely to the water. “If he doesn’t want to come home with me, I’ll understand.” She added, before she started walking closer to the ocean. Third realized he still had another question. “What’s your name?!” he yelled, holding the young Tazz close.

She stopped, turned, and gave him a brilliant smile. “Maria.” And with that, she turned back to the water, ran, and dived in.

Third didn’t want to believe it, but he just realized that she had shark teeth and a dorsal fin whenever she was near the water—as far as he’d noticed. He couldn’t forget the gills and webbed feet/hands either. Shaking his head, he walked up the hill to his house on the cliff. He’d make sure the kid wanted to go back home to his mother when he grew up. He had to. He was no good with normal kids. And now, he’s stuck with one whose half shark.

With a small smile on his face, Third poked at young Tazz’s cheek and walked inside. “Welcome to your temporary home, Tazz.” He said, shaking his head and chuckling to himself.

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