Mermaids

3/4 of this is nonfic. 1/4 for the third person writing style and a few changes. But yes, this did happen.

Mermaids.
San Antonio, Isabela


She capped her eyes although there was no sun to hide them from. It was mid-afternoon, but cloudy. The sky, swathed various shades of white and grey and light orange, glowed softly. The girl moved. The Otso river wasn't that wide or that deep; it was an absolutely normal river. Except for the fact that Lola had seen mermaids there.

She fingered the thick safety pin attached to the end of her shirt. Crunch. With every step, the rocks beneath her shifted. Large rocks and pebbles and gravel of three different shades filled the riverside. The cobbled road of sorts went as far as the river did, and was about half a mile wide.

Plop. Plop. Splash.

They were skipping stones across the water.

Lola had said that mermaids could be warded off by sharp metal objects. The old woman had insisted that each of the girls wore at least one--the pins belonged to *her* grandmother and were passed on to her mother, and then her, and now she was passing them onto them, her grandchildren; the only ones left in the country.

"Lola, do mermaids even exist?"

That question set off a series of stories that their mother would absolutely have loved to get on video. If only there was more tape. What a pity. A faraway gaze settled into their grandmother's eyes, as she called back to a time older than the Otso.

The sound of rocks breaking in half filled the air, and the girl was startled out of her thoughts. She glanced at the sound. Pat was throwing rocks on the ground, making them ricochet off the harder ones, and seeing if they would break. So far, her research seemed successful.

"Pits, you might hit Lola."

Splashing sounds came from the riverside, and the girl aimed the camera lens at the mountains and the water. The second sister was still skipping stones. Lola was talking about dwarves in an aunt's swimming pool, back in alabang. One of the old maids had seen them, she said. There were two of them every night, splashing their feet at the side of the pool. Tito Ray, their now-divorced-uncle, had seen the little men when he came home once, at midnight.

"Look! Frogs!"

The LCD screen spun, and the girl zoomed in to capture the miniature amphibians.

"Where? Where?"

"There Hannah! Aw, you missed them. Look there's another one!"

"I can't see them!"

"You're too slow."

"Sure."

She stood straight, now facing the river, always in motion. The wavelets were permanent, it seemed, edging together, then crashing into nothing, then coming back up again. Perpetual motion, if there was such a thing. But according to Physics, there wasn't. All forces had to die down someday. Briefly, the girl wondered if the mermaids would too. It was a spur-of-the-moment thought, as were most of her thoughts. She scanned the surface of the river, hoping for...something. It was just a myth, she knew. But looking wouldn't hurt.

The sky was gradually progressing to a deep shade of orange. Clouds cast shadows on the endless bed of rocks. Kuya Melan, the driver, got into the battered silver van, and so did mother and dad and Lola. The children were left by the river.

"Kids, time to go!"

The wheels of the van crunched across the gravelly surface. The girl called to her siblings.

"People, into the van!"

They ambled up in the direction of the vehicle, carrying with them small pebbles they liked, strangely-shaped rocks, and two pieces of smooth driftwood. She turned to glance again at the river's surface. Nothing broke it, except, perhaps, the movement of planks of wood, as illegal loggers transported Narra to their waiting trucks. The girl headed towards the van.

There were no mermaids. But that was because they were wearing the safety pins.