Chapter Text
Elliot had always loved stories. Loved them more than anything. Even crab cakes and lobsters. When he was little, he remembered sneaking out from the safety of his home to listen to stories by the fire. Never close enough to get caught, but he would watch as the humans gathered around on nearby beaches to tell stories.
Stories about everything. Some things he didn’t even understand! Stories about creatures he’s never heard of. It was exciting to listen in and learn about them. Elliot remembered ducking underwater to keep from laughing so loud they’d hear him. And diving underwater to dart back to the safety of the cove to sleep with his parents after hearing stories about scary beats that would eat anything in their path.
And books! Oh, how Elliot loved to watch the humans when they read. Lounging carefree in the sun as they flipped through page after page. They were too far away for him to try and read them, but he watched all the same. Occasionally, he got glimpses of pictures. Of giant beasts, heroic humans, or far off cities he could scarcely imagine.
More than once, he had tried to borrow one. He swam up to the edge of the water when the humans weren’t looking. If they walked away, he would sneak out of the water. Dragging himself only just enough to reach a forgotten book and dart off before they saw him. Down into the deep waters and in the sanctuary of a cove or coral. But the water always ruined the pages when he tried to read them. The ink ran and tried to float away in the water that was too dark for him to see well. They were nothing but squiggles on pages.
Most of the time, he’d make the long swim back to return the book where he had found it. Moonlight shimmering off warm scales. Up out of the water and into the sand so the owner could find it again when they came back to curled and warped pages covered in sea salt. But some of them? The thick ones with the most words he could find, those he selfishly kept for himself. Hidden away where no one would find them, and he could look at the pages again and again. Even if he couldn’t read the smudged ink, he liked to pretend.
Elliot would think of the stories he heard the humans tell and try to remember how they went word for word as he pretended to read the books with delight. And when he ran out of stories to recite, Elliot started to create his own.
Long tail wrapped around a rock to stay in place, Elliot would pretend to read the stories he made to any little fish that would swim by. Some would float nearby, curious as to what he was doing. But most would dart off to safety when they heard him. Yet it never deterred him to keep making up stories, smiling to himself.
So it only seemed natural that he wanted to be a writer once he learned the word from a passing sailor. Something none of his family understood. They had stories written along cave walls and thick stones that told their history etched forever with the lives they had lived. But they didn’t write stories.
His family scoffed and told him that things like that were meant for humans, not merpeople who lived under the sea, trying to survive as said humans fished deeper and deeper into the water, risking food and capture.
For years, Elliot tried to hide and smother that side of himself. Only let the stories play out in his head while he swam through the waters, hiding from humans and hunting for food that seemed less and less every year. Tried to ignore the call to share those stories. Even tried to stop thinking about them all together. But he couldn’t stop that part of himself.
The stories weaved in and out of him as easily as breath when he breached the surface of the sea along the shore. No matter how hard he tried to squash the stories, he still found himself sneaking off to look for firelight along the sand. Even as a grown man, he couldn’t resist the stories people told.
Swimming silently under the docks, he listened to old men swap tales with the same wonderment he had when he could hardly swim. Laying back in the water, Elliot closed his eyes and listened to the stories as he floated, picturing far off lands he would never see. Just because a merman could look like a man didn’t mean he could travel so far. Not to these jungles they talked about or open fields of gold waves made of wheat. There were far too many human rules he didn’t know. There was only so much one could pick up from stories and sailors that didn’t know he was there.
One day, listening to those stories paid off in a way he never thought possible. Laying in the sands under the aged and warped wood of a dock, Elliot listened to sailors. He’d heard stories like theirs a thousand times before, but still, he felt compelled to listen. But this time, the story changed.
“The chest was full of gold!” Exclaimed one of the sailors whisper shouting over the fire. “It was enough to live on,” he swore when he was laughed at.
Curious, Elliot sat up on his elbows, tilting his head to listen better. While mermaids had no need for human money, the gears in his head began to turn as the sailor went on. A long tale of finding treasure while they went exploring, but leaving it behind. He even explained where!
While the others laughed, Elliot slid back into the water. He didn’t know the rules of humans, but he remembered hearing them say gold was King. If he had gold, he could pretend to be human. He could get closer to the stories! Was he really going to go looking for buried treasure? Like a pirate from the stories they told the children.
Cutting through the water with ease, his lips curled back into a wide grin. He would be just like one of the pirates! Without as much as a goodbye to the others Elliot swam off to the beach the sailor described.
Swam for days, barely stopping to eat or rest. The mer was far too excited for the promise of an adventure, of a new story just for him. He daydreamed of life on land. Of the houses he could often see in the distance. One just for him and slowly writing his stories to share them with people like him. People who loved stories.
When Elliot finally made it to the beach the sailor described, he could feel his heart beating hard in his chest. What if there was no treasure? Or if someone had beat him to it? Shaking his head hard enough water droplets flew from his hair to rain back into the water around him Elliot tried to calm down. This was the first chapter of his story. Even if it didn’t go just like he thought, he’d find a way. He wanted to share his stories with someone.
In the dead of night, Elliot carefully crawled out of the water. Flicking his tail a few times, he waited until it faded and changed into two strong legs. He used them so rarely that it took him a few tries to get to his feet. Feeling them sink into the sand, Elliot walked along the beach, stumbling occasionally.
Trying to remember the story the sailor told, Elliot paced the beach, looking for a clue as to where the treasure was hidden. They said they buried it in the sand. He could remember that much.
“By the trees? By a bush? No, he said the sand.” Turning to look at the rest of the beach, he suddenly grinned.
“By the dock that was half sunk in the water!” He laughed and ran across the sand. On the far side was a long unused dock that had fallen half in the water. His feet tangled with themselves, and he fell, but he only laughed. He would have to get used to these legs now.
Stumbling to his feet, he walked, trying to be more careful. Walking around the fallen dock, he tried to guess where the sailor had buried his treasure. The waves had long washed away any trace. When there were no more clues, Elliot knelt in the wet sand as the waves lapped over him. Turning pale legs into bright scales that glistened in the starlight.
Sinking his hands into the wet sand, he started to dig. He could feel the sand under his nails as he pulled pile after pile out from under the dock and back into the water. It wasn’t next to the furthest pillar. Or the next. But Elliot kept digging. Maybe it was deeper.
The sun was starting to come up, and the tide had long gone out. If Elliot didn’t find the chest soon, he would have to dive back into the water empty handed. Picking up the pace, he tried to find something, anything. He didn’t want this to be a waste. Or worse, to be found. No one knew what happened to the merpeople that were discovered. They never came back to tell.
Just as he was about to give up hope and crawl back to the water, his fingers scraped against something wooden. With a quiet cheer, Elliot started to dig frantically, trying to unearth what he had found.
It wasn’t a large chest by any means. But it was at least light enough for the man to carry. Carefully, he lifted the box to peer inside. And just like the sailor claimed, it was brimming with gold coins! Elliot thought about all of the things he could do on land with the coins. Gold was what humans gave to get what they wanted. He heard them talk about it, but had never seen them use it.
While he pondered, the world around him started to wake up, and voices began to filter in through the trees. Humans!
Slamming the chest shut, Elliot quickly cradled it under an arm and rushed back to the water as fast as he could. Bright tail flicking above the surface as the first human came into view. He couldn’t be caught now!
Thoughts were tumbling in his head faster than he could process. He had to find a place to go. Figure out how to make the books he saw humans read. And had to find humans to tell stories with! But he wasn’t sure where to start. He couldn’t let them know he was a merman. But he knew so little outside of stories he wasn’t sure if he was able.
It was too much to think about at once, and he was a tired merman. Lazily swimming, Elliot looked for a safe place to sleep. Tall seaweed made for a good cover and to block out some of the light as he curled around his treasure. His future. Once he’d had some sleep, he could figure out where he would start the next chapter of his life.