I loved her, even if she never knew my name. She was my Ariel, and I know I am her Eric.
No matter what she says.
#1 in short story on 02/07/18
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I opened the cellar door, expecting to see my mermaid curled into a ball like usual.
Actually no, that much was true. But it was the was the way she was curled, clutching her throat. I hesitated for a minute, unsure if I should go up to her.
Vomit covered the floor surrounding her, dirtying her clothes and face.
They had never covered this in the horror stories I read.
Finally, I walked up to her, walking carefully in case she tried to snap. Avoiding the puddle, I crouched down and felt her neck.
She wasn't breathing.
"Well then. That's rather inconvenient."
How was I supposed to dispose of her body? I didn't want to leave the evidence in my own backyard, that was the downfall of too many idiotic murderers and kidnappers.
Would this be the prince's downfall, after all I've done?
Wait.
There was one place, about two miles from here was the edge of a cliff, overlooking the sea. It was open to the public, although there was a fence to keep the suicidal away.
That's not to say it's effective.
Looking back, I should have asked Attina about any allergies she may have had. But I'm certain that you can at least avoid that, hm?
