Curses!

Quinn was first on the scene so it was his responsibility, and it was a dead mermaid.

“Must have gotten her head got in a rotor,” said Jeremiah.

Quinn turned. Two fishermen approached.

“Gonna have to find that head,” said Randolph, the second fisherman.

“The head?” Quinn asked. He looked. They were right: the mermaid had no head.

“Yep, gotta take care of the whole ding-dang thing, son,” said Jeremiah. “Lest there be any curses and such.”

Curses? This island was supposed to be an escape. Just to get away from it all. Figure some things out. That’s what Yelp said.

“Head could be anywhere, I presume,” said Randolph. “Surf’s coming in. Gotta move her. I can help you with that.”

“Oh God,” said Quinn as he and the two fishermen reached underneath the mermaid’s cold, slimy arms. They dragged the body to the place where the cliff met the shore and dropped it on a pile of seaweed. A strange fluid oozed from the head-hole.

“Okay,” started Randolph, “you’re gonna need to get this body covered up before the birds come.”

Someone else was walking down the stairwell—Sheriff Taylor. She was a fit woman, about mid-forties. She had a thermos and an unflappable demeanor.

“My, my,” she said and took a slurp of coffee.

“Are you in charge here, son?” Sheriff Taylor asked. “What’s your name?”

“Quinn—my name is Quinn,” he said. “I’m not in charge…. Look—I was just walking on the beach. I found this….”

“Yes, you did,” the Sheriff said, taking a look. “Head’s off.”

“Yep,” said Randolph.

“Probably a rotor blade,” said the Sheriff.

“Yep,” said Jeremiah.

“You moved her?” the Sheriff asked, looking at the marks in the sand.

“Tide was going to take her out,” said Jeremiah.

“Okay, cover her up before the birds get her,” the Sheriff said and looked at Quinn. “Do you know what to do, son?”

No. How would…? This was just so unreasonable.

“You gotta wait,” said the Sheriff.

“Wait… for what?” Quinn asked. “What do you mean?”

Jeremiah and Randolph looked knowingly at each other, which was something Quinn hated.

“Why me?” Quinn asked. “You’re the police.”

“Fish folk are outside my jurisdiction,” the Sheriff replied. “That’s the way it is: the first surface-dweller to find the body has to handle it. Island tradition.”

Tradition? Surface-dweller?

“Here it comes now,” said Jeremiah, in a fearful whisper, pointing a shaking finger at the water. Amidst the crashing waves, something dark was emerging. It surfed in —a tattered cape draped around its neck over a lean and bony form covered in barnacles, seaweed, and starfish. The salty reek of the ocean wafted toward them.

“It’s here,” gasped Jeremiah.

“The creature from the deep,” choked Randolph.

“Where is she?” the creature gurgled.

Jeremiah and Randolph were shaking. Sheriff Taylor instinctively grabbed her holstered gun but recovered herself and pointed to the body lying on the shore. “Right there.”

The creature shuffled to the body of the mermaid, knelt down, and growled out an agonized wail.

“Guess he knew her,” said Randolph to icy stares.

The creature cried and its anguish seeped into everyone. It lasted a long time but finally the wailing stopped and the creature stood and lifted the beheaded mermaid and shambled back to the sea. It waded into the waters and let the tide take the dead body. The sea-maiden drifted away and vanished.

Quinn felt some relief but just for a moment. The creature stopped and turned to him.

“There must be a sacrifice,” it said.

Silence. The four humans froze.

“Who found her?” the creature demanded, and a shiver of despair quivered down Quinn’s spine.

“He did,” said Randolph, pointing at Quinn.

The boy glared at the man. Snitch.

“Well, you did,” said Jeremiah, in case there was any confusion.

“You?” asked the creature.

“Yes,” whimpered Quinn. No sense in lying.

The creature stopped and looked about the beach.

“Can’t you do anything?” Quinn said to the Sheriff. “This isn’t--.”

“It is the ancient agreement of the island. Between the surface and the sea,” said the Sheriff.

The creature turned and walked back to Quinn.

“There must be a sacrifice,” it said. It grabbed a rock. A very large and heavy rock.

“Ah, dang,” said Jeremiah.

“Wait,” said the Sheriff. “He’s just a boy. How old are you, son?”

“Twenty-one,” Quinn stuttered. He wished he were younger. He wished he were just a baby. A sweet, little baby. Innocent and safe.

“Just a kid,” said Randolph, maybe trying to help.

“It does not matter,” said the creature, continuing his approach. “It is the bargain we made.”

Quinn froze.

“There’s gotta be something,” croaked Jeremiah. “Come on. You can’t just kill him.”

“Thanks,” whimpered Quinn. It was a nice gesture.

The creature stopped just a few feet from Quinn. It stared at the boy. And then it exhaled a salty, briny air. Quinn gagged.

“Yes,” said the creature, “there is… something….”

“What?” all the humans said, desperate.

The sea beast raised its arm and pointed a crabby finger directly at Quinn. The waves crashed, the sea gulls cawed, and the wind howled. The creature roared out a fearsome bellow. Silence followed, and the beast lowered its arm. Quinn waited ––stunned–– and then noticed a purple blot in his palm.

“You have six years before that stain grows and festers,” the creature started.

Quinn sighed deeply. Relief mixed with fresh horror as he looked at the purple blotch.

“You must find… a precious thing… for which I have long yearned….” the creature said.

Okay. Okay. Quinn was hanging on every word despite the noxious breath.

“There is a flower…”

A flower?

“It grows on a… mountain… in a land… made of sand. You shall know it by its amber petals and purple bloom… those who know call it… the Flower of Eternal Life.”

What?

“Find it. Bring it to me… and the curse shall be lifted. Otherwise… there shall be a sacrifice,” the creature said.

“Alright! Yes. Find the Flower of Eternal Life,” Quinn said. “Okay.”

The creature stared— a weighty gaze. The hair on the back of Quinn’s neck sprung up and the creature dropped the rock, and scuffled back to the sea.

“Looks like you got a break,” the Sheriff said to Quinn as she drove him to the ferry building.

He stared at her incredulously. “Find a magic flower? Who knows where? If not, then die? A break? Did you really just say that?”

“Here we are,” said the Sheriff, as the jeep screeched to a halt in the parking lot.

Quinn sat without moving. He stared at the purple blot on his palm. “This is insane.” he said. “I just graduated, you know! I came here to get some thinking done. Figure out what to do with my life.”

The Sheriff looked at him and took a swig of her coffee. “What to do with your life, huh?” She looked at the purple blot and then at his eyes. “Well, now you know.”

Quinn stared at the Sheriff. He got out of the jeep with no goodbye and walked to the ticket window. He bought a ticket, sat on a bench, and waited. The ferry arrived. He got on and floated away. Watching the island get smaller Quinn fumed. This place was going to get the worst Yelp review ever.