Emm!!

small lil tag list: @hearts4upl @lando4oscar

~~~

Night passed and morning came. Light in its most natural form poured into the keeper’s window, prying open his eyes. He rose, stretching his long limbs above his head and lumbering out of bed. His bare feet quietly padded along the stone floor as he made his way outside, unlocking the door and stepping out into the cool morning.

The smell of salt and fish hung heavy in the harbor, a scent Luukkonen had come to love. He took a deep breath, the clean air filling his lungs. His eyes scanned the horizon, looking for early risers heading out in their boats to get an early start. He noted the clouds, the direction in which they drifted, their likelihood of casting storms across the area.

And then his gaze settled on the rock.

The rock where he had seen that creature perched. She had vanished, not a single piece of evidence remained. His worry began to grow. Perhaps she had never been there at all.

A gull cried overhead, reminding him of his duties. His fire inside from the night before had been reduced to a pile of ash. Nets he had found strewn along the beach were dry and in need of repair. He had no time to ponder on myths and old wives’ tales.

But her eyes. Those were no myth.

The day passed peacefully. Merchants set up shop along the boardwalk behind the lighthouse, selling daily catches. The soft sounds of the bustling market and the rolling waves set the perfect background as the keeper settled on the bench outlooking the sea. He busied himself with various chores and odd jobs, repairing nets and keeping a log of the ships coming in.

From his bench on the dock adjacent to the lighthouse, he watched. His gaze carefully flicked over to the spot he had seen her the night before.

Hoping.

It wasn’t until later that evening, as the last ships were sailing in and the last merchants were packing up, that he saw her again.

That faint glow of her piercing gaze that had only just become visible under the steadily sinking sun. Earlier than yesterday. Watching him.

His pen twitched restlessly against the open logbook in his lap, moving against his will. When he glanced down, the beginning of a sketch was scrawled across the page. No details. They weren’t visible. Just a figure: long flowing hair and sharp eyes set in a dark shape that resembled that of a woman.

Now, his pen glided over the paper purposefully, honing in on details he couldn’t even see. Things he hoped for. A sharp nose, full lips, a slender throat. Years of loneliness churned inside of him, now being vomited onto the page in front of him.

When his eyes finally lifted from the sketch, he was met with emptiness. She was gone.

Or rather, she had moved.

Away from the rock. Closer.

Now, she sat in the water beside the stone. The deep blue covered her like a blanket from the waist down, her knees bent above the surface.

His breath hitched.

Time seemed to still and slip away all at once as he stared at her. Even as the moon climbed higher into the black expanse overhead, he found himself glued to the bench, awestruck. Heaven forbid she begin to sing. He was already so drawn to her, a single note from her lips might have driven him to madness.

He watched as she bathed in the moonlight, her pale skin shining under the stars. Despite not being able to see her face, he knew she was beautiful.

A kind of beauty he hadn’t seen in years.

Incomparable to the waves that mercilessly beat along the base of the light house. Incomparable to the clouds that hung menacingly overhead, threatening to release pelting rain and bolts of lightning across the harbor.

The moon softened her silhouette, turning her into something almost dreamlike against the dark rocks.

He couldn’t make out her features, only the impression of them. Enough to imagine the rest.

The mere picture in his head made his heart flutter.

~~~

As the weeks passed, the keeper and the siren continued their wordless conversation. She shifted closer to the shoreline each night, appearing earlier and earlier. Luukkonen waited on the dock, pen and logbook in hand. Not to work, but to draw. To continue capturing her envisioned likeness along the margins of his livelihood.

He made himself visible when he worked, making sure she was in sight as he tended to the property. He had grown comfortable with the constant heavy feeling, the sensation of being watched constantly. Even when he could not see her, he knew she was there: beneath him in the depths of the waters.

One morning, a sunny yet brisk winter day, the keeper stood on his porch, nursing a cup of coffee.

Nearby, the siren lay, sunbathing under the rare warmth of the unobstructed winter sun. She had settled on a rock just beyond the lighthouse. Still unreachable.

Despite the beauty of the sky, the burning oranges and pinks filling the air and reflecting off the water, he looked at her. Sprawled out on the stones. Soaking in the warmth of the sun despite the cool winter chill.

Her eyes shot open, meeting his eyes under the weight of his gaze.

Instead of looking away, shrinking back in fear, the keeper stood firm. He raised a single hand, a wave. Did sirens wave? He wondered.

It wasn’t a wave back that he received, but a simple head tilt: a silent I see you.

His lips twisted into an involuntary smirk. He turned back to the ocean, washing down his pride with a gulp of coffee.

best (and worst) of sharks sewerball 😭😂

"the canucks"

"oh my god im so sorry 😭😭"