The Lorelei, Part One
By Lorelei Kay, High Desert Branch
The young sergeant fixes his eyes straight ahead, desperate to make sense of the scene before him.
If only it would move closer, he thinks, riveted to the spot. There it goes again. What kind of crazy tricks are my eyes playing on me?
He stands alone on the jagged shoreline. He draws in a deep breath of cold Mediterranean Sea air and shoves his hands deeper into his worn army-issue jacket, trying to clear his head. Far to his right loom threatening cliffs, and in the distance fog hangs over the choppy sea, but it’s the waves close to the rocky ledge near his feet that command his full attention.
Again, there’s uproar in the waters. He tries in vain to determine the source of the disturbance just as something leaps high out of the waves.
Did I really see something green flip up? No, that’s impossible. I’m so damn lonely, I’m fantasizing.
After all, fighting in the Second World War on the other side of the world could muck up anyone’s head.
Yes, he rationalizes, I’m missing home so much, especially missing her, that I’m imagining things.
He turns away, but a murmuring sound grabs his attention and he jerks back around just as the waters bubble up with life. Splash! His eyes chase the bubble trail left behind as something bursts through the surface, flips high in the air, and sprays sea foam all over his face. His fingers trace the salty wetness on his rough-shaven cheek. He gasps at the wonder of her as she continues whirling and spinning, revealing her glistening breasts, waist, and hips, which taper down to an outrageously green . . . tail!
She continues diving in and out of the water, the bubble jewels in her red hair gleaming in the last beams of the low-hanging sun. He can’t escape the pull of her sultry smile, her skin all shiny from the salty sea, or her long hair flowing down and caressing her mother-of-pearl thighs.
His mind reels in confusion. Rumors had swirled through his platoon of Lorelei, the mermaid who perched on a rock in the Rhine River and lured sailors into danger with her singing, but never in his maddest dreams had he considered her more than a legend, or that she might rove from river to sea. At least, not until now.
Her red hair, dripping in seashell fragments, triggers both intrigue and frustration. It reminds him of another redhead, thousands of isolating waves away. How he aches to be with his new bride. He misses her creamy pale skin, her innocent touch, and her arousing aroma.
He closes his eyes, remembering the last time they were together back in the States. When he opens them moments later, the water lies placid, a single ripple dancing across the surface. The air hangs heavy with sea scent as his mind spins with questions. Could the siren really exist? His finger touches the dripping splatters still on his face, and the assuring wetness makes him smile.
The memory sticks fast in my father’s mind throughout the rest of the war, along with the memory of her name — Lorelei.
Read what the sailor does about this encounter
in Part Two, next month’s socalwritersshowcase.com.
The prolific Lorelei Kay has contributed
in many genres to socalwritersshowcase.com.
Visit her website, frommormontomermaid.com.