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Everyone has a childhood memory that will come back to them. It doesn't matter if it was happy, sad, uncomfortable, or traumatic. You will never forget it, and your memory that, despite not being joyful, your conscious will remind you of it in difficult moments. You don't know if it's a cruel way of your brain to make you recall bitter memories, and it always does it out of the blue. You wish you could restart your brain sometimes, but that would require going to a hospital full of locals who are not very friendly with you.

You can't blame them, and you cannot hold ill feelings toward the local's villagers, with infinite beliefs that this world could offer you. You learned them when you discovered this planet. Similar to your home, with different structures and weather but an identical society. Although a bit primitive, how can planet Earth's habitants assume they are the only ones in space? With so many galaxies in space and massive planets, that cannot be compared to the sun. Oh, that splendid sun that your skin loved on the first day you arrived. Bathing in its warm rays, you were fascinated by its captivating sunsets and sunrises. You never got tired of those.

Your planet was not like this, covered by immense clouds that did not allow the sky to show, immense oceans but not as deep as the earth, and mountains. Your planet was known for using the minerals of the mountains and active volcanoes, using their energy to create life, and cultivating a beautiful culture that, from generation to generation, has passed through several decades.

Only to be eradicated by a madman.

A gloomy shadow fell on your gaze, a heavy exhalation flew from your nose, slumping against the hammock. A nightmare woke you up before your alarm went off, and you couldn't catch up on sleep afterward. So now you were gazing at the ocean, waiting for the sun to rise. Your hut was constructed out of the materials of your fallen ship and natural resources. Of course, you were inspired by the designs of the local Yucatecans.  

Three years have passed since you crashed on this planet, keeping a safe distance from civilization, although humans have their mutants, superheroes, and 'gods.' But with you, it was different. You still kept receiving indifferent looks, with fear or disgust. You weren't going to hide your body, it was impossible to conceal your pointy ears, and the idea of hiding your precious tail with some pants was ridiculous.

Your people do not hide.

With the first rays of the sun, you stood up from the hammock, ready to go to the town and work. Wearing an old red tank top, green cargo shorts up to the knee, and a pair of sandals. You don't need them, but they were a gift from a mother who saw you all barefooted in the streets, insisting and almost scolding you for not wearing footwear.

Your people don’t need to wear ‘shoes’, their feet were stronger and made to run in the forest and climb mountains. With your backpack prepared with your supplies and lunch, you headed to Progreso, starting another mundane cycle again with the humans.

With a glance over your shoulder, the soft breeze swayed the palms surrounding the hut, your home, which you glared at it. How can it be home to you if it's always empty? You prayed that would change soon.

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The streets of Progreso were boasted with locals and tourists, excited to begin a new day to either work or explore. You marched the same road to avoid stares and strangers who dared to ask why you have a tail. You can handle children with sticky hands who are overcurious about your tail, but grown adults trying to touch your ears? That's a big no-no.

You work in a popular restaurant name El Pargo, but you were not a cook, a waitress, or a barista. None of that, you work in the back, receiving heavy cargo that no human could get off the delivery trucks. Sometimes the manager would send you to the dock to ensure their deliveries were safe, which confounded you. Did someone wanted to steal their shrimp and lobster?

Crime was common here, too common because people didn't seem bothered if someone was killed in the streets or kidnapped. Your people had their rules too, if you steal they cut off your hand, but those were radical times. You were wondering if that could help them. You took another bite of your guava, the juices dripping onto your handkerchief. It was your first break of the day, and you were observing the people go by the restaurant, families enjoying the sun and their sweets, and couples holding hands as they looked at each other in love. Some of your coworkers have pointed out and teased why you were observing like a hawk. Perhaps you like to analyze and imagine what if it was you walking in those shoes.

“Xola!”

You beamed at the nickname and turned around to lock eyes with the owner, Maritza, with a vulgar mouth but a nurturing woman who likes to smoke those cigarettes twice a day. Throwing the rest of the fruit in a trash can and wiping your hands on the handkerchief, you asked what you can do for her.

“I need you to go the dock, el Peter y Chucho no vinieron andas crudos,” Maritza huffs as she texted her smartphone.  “Can you go there and give them a hand, Mija?   Shows those lazy bums some muscles, si?” Peter and Chucho have a hangover.

You nodded as you followed her to the back room to get your phone. “What are we receiving today?”

“Octopus, lobster y una cajota de huachinangos como te gustan!” Maritza winked in your direction as you tried to prevent those purple-manicured nails from poking your ribs, but you did beam at the idea of those delicious red fishes. They tasted so great with lemon, white rice, and boiled vegetables. It was the perfect meal.

“Andale, take the bike so you can get there faster, vamonos Shu!”

You caught the keys in midair, tail wagging as you grinned at her, nodded gratefully, and exited the half-full establishment. Maritza was in a good mood, allowing you to drive her motorcycle only happens once a year.  Your first time driving a bike, you almost drowned in the ocean along with it.  The engine's purr vibrated between your legs when you ignited the vehicle, and you started to drive on the poorly fixed street.  Trusting in your driving skills, it took about twenty minutes to get to where the local boats unload and where sometimes people liked to fish and release.

“What’re you doing here, fenomeno?” freak

“Can I at least remove the helmet?” You deadpan as you get off the bike muttering in your native language, ‘annoying little shit’

“What did you say?” Jose question with a glare.

Finally you paid attention to Maritza's son, the proclaimed future owner of the restaurant, scowled at you with disdain. He is a pubescent boy who hardly knows about the world, that's what Maritza told you, but you knew the boy had a hatred towards you, perhaps due to the lack of a father figure in his young life.

“I said, hi Jose, how are you today?” You smirked at him as you left the helmet on one of the handles. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“Because I’m already handling it, so I don’t need your help.”

“That’s not what your mother told me.” But before you could approach the dock steps, Jose stepped in the way.

“Como te lo dije fenomeno, I don’t need your help. So go the fuck away.” like I said freak.

Your pointy ears fold back, feeling the anger in your throat with the urge to smack him on the head. Insults never dishearten you. You've heard worse, but the resentment towards you. What did you do to deserve such treatment? When you took a threatening step and invaded his space, delight passed when you saw Jose shrink and your vibrant eyes scowled him down.

“If you don’t move, you’re going to force me to move you, boy.” You snarled quietly as your cat eyes like glared at him. Jose gulped and smirked nervously.

“If- if you touch me, I’ll call on you the police.”

 The weak threat made you huffed amusedly as you side-step him.  “As if anyone wants to touch your disgusting human body. I do not respond to threats, Jose. I make them. So, I suggest you change your attitude before something happens.”

And right away you went up the stairs, ignoring the angry words of Jose, who followed you, trying to have the last word. The waters of the pier were deep, and where no one dared to swim since there was no sand to step on. Your eyes found the boat with the restaurant logo, and you greeted some workers, some greeted you, and others gave a look that you didn't even care about and began to help them disembark. Quickly picking the heaviest box and putting it on the hand truck.

But how were you going to work with someone yapping down your neck?

“I could tell my mom that you said that to me! ¡Te despedirá si se lo digo!”

“Go for it.”

You hoped the impassive glare you sent over your shoulder could make him walk away, but he continued to complain. And you felt second-hand embarrassment since other bystanders were glancing at the young adult as if he was a nutcase, and he is, but Jose couldn’t care less. He wanted to speak his piece of mind.

“I will! And then you can get the fuck away from my home.”

“I didn’t know you own the whole state.”

“You know what I mean, pinche fenomeno!” fucking freak

Workers who watched the interaction shook their heads in disbelief, used to these childish tantrums from the young boy you believed. Finally, with the last heavy package set, a guy took away the hand truck to load on the car waiting at the end of the pier. The other male workers took this as a sign to breathe and sit on the boat while waiting for another hand truck.

“Ya dejala en paz Jose, estamos trabajando aquí.” Leave it alone Jose, we are working here

“Ya chamaco vete a perder a otra parte.” Alright kid, get lost somwehre else

Jose scowled at the workers in disbelief.  “Why are you letting this alien work with us? She doesn’t belong here!”

“Am I a freak or an alien? Pick up your damn mind.”  Your remark got a few chuckles from behind you as you faced Jose, tail wagging left and right, frustration bubbling to a fit of anger you might not be able to contain.

“You know what you are,” Jose sneered. “A fucking – “

“DEMONIO!”  Demon

Everyone jerked at the loud shout from the other side of the pier, and they saw an older man struggling with his fishing rod, as if something was trying to pull him down.

“¿Señor, está bien?”  Someone asks him from the boat.  Sir, are you alright?

“Hay un demonio en el agua! Un demonio.”  There is a demon in the water! A demon"

Two men quickly approached, helping the man try to pull the catch, and you also drew near to the edge of the pier. Why would he scream demon? Could it be one of those monster fish you sometimes see in the magazine? A frown pulls your brows as you scrutinize the turbid water trashed around where the line was disappearing.  But when you crouched down to get a better look at what it could be, your eyes widened in bemused, briefly between the men’s pulling back and forward. You briefly caught two small hands pulling the thread of the fishing rod. It wasn't a demon, that was a child!

“Stop, stop! That is not a demon, that is a kid!”

But none of them listened to you as they were on the verge of collapsing, whatever it was down there, it was strong and didn't seem to budge. Someone lost their grip with the water thrashing and splashing on the slippery wooden pier, and the older man was yanked down.  And you dive in, ignoring the scared protest from your coworkers.

Your eyes adjusted to the murky ocean water as you swam down, trying to locate the man with the white shirt, but the salt water was stinging your eyes, but you kept kicking your legs. Sinking even further, relief flooded you as you located the man a few feet away from you, floating unconscious. You swam over to him, and before you could even grabbed him by the bicep, something from down below floated to you, and you almost lost all the air as you gasped dumbfounded.

A child, there was a child glaring at you. But your keen eye catches the big gash on her forearm, blood flowing as the kid cradles her arm near her, and with a last mad glare she sent you, she swam down and disappeared into the dark water.

Who are you? What are you? Where do you come from? So many questions but limited time for your lungs. Remember you’re not like your other distant relative who are design to breathe underwater. Desperately you grasped the man's arm and swam up with all your might, lungs starting to burn inside your chest. Sweet relief filled your lungs the instant you broke out from the surface. A long stick appears in your line of vision, and you grip it, letting the man pulling you to the pier. A pair of hands hold you from your biceps and pull you up, clothes clinging to your soaking wet body.

The paramedics immediately took the unconscious man to the hospital, one of them gave you a thick blanket to cover yourself with, and you accepted it. They applauded you for your brave action, patting your back as you smiled at them, but your mind was elsewhere. Who was that child in the ocean? It wasn't your imagination, perhaps a mutant you sometimes saw on the news.

“Oye Xola, que vio esa viejo en el agua? Was it a demon? Did you saw it too?” One of the fishermen asked you, all of them gazing at you with morbid curiosity.   Should you tell the truth?  Lying was against the law on your planet, but then again, this is not your planet, so you shrugged. Hey Xola, what did that old man see in the water?

“No, it wasn’t a demon. I think it was a small shark or something else, but I couldn’t see it clearly.”

Humans speculate among themselves. A shark, a sea monster, or an older man should search for another age-appropriate hobby. And before you reached the stairs from the pier, you gave one last look where you jumped into the water. The soft waves moved the water in a rhythm that prevented you from observing its depths.

It's settled. You are going to explore more about the depth of the ocean.

Everyone went about their day, prepared to share what had happened on the pier with their friends, family, and others. Maritza lent you one of her clothes, and she was excited to see you in them. Your closet includes shirts that expose your shoulders, shorts, or long skirts to comfort your bottom.  The white crop top with no sleeves was a beautiful local white stitching, and the long flowy green skirt was perfect for your tail, with free mobility.

You said goodbye to Maritza with a wave and a smile, promising you would bring her clothes back tomorrow. All day you were thinking about how you're going to investigate your little encounter. The public library was 1 hour from the city, and you needed more energy to use public transportation. The internet could help, with its infinite knowledge of the world, surely there will be something about children capable of breathing in water and stronger than an adult. Your feet wandered through the streets while you savored a large bowl of fruit full of hot sauce and other sweets that the vendor prepared for you. But someone drew your attention, and a happy grin pulled your cheeks.

“Abuela Aurora!” You called out to the elderly woman ahead of you and trotted towards her. Her wrinkled brows rose in surprise, then fondness at the sight of you, and open her arms to embrace you in a gentle hug.  The smell of marzipan and roses filled your nose, enjoying the warm contact from her purple and pink shawl.

“Mi dulce Xola, como te fue hoy? Cuéntame.” My sweet Xola, how was your day today? Tell me.

You related your day, every detail you did, every thought, and every word you had with someone new. And you pause, unsure if it would be a good idea if you tell your encounter with the child to the grandmother. Would it scare her? Alarm her? Then again, she always gave you good advice. She always did when you wanted to create a life in Progreso.

“Hubo un accidente en el muelle, un pescador cayo al agua y estaba ahí para rescatarlo.”

“Ay que peligroso, pero mi dulce niña estaba ahí para salvar el día. ¿Qué fue lo que atrapo ese pescador?”

“No era un qué sino un quién…”  The older woman halted and looked at you curiously, waiting for your answer.

“Vi a una niña, vestida en harapos y con collares de dientes en su cuello.”

That innocent curiosity in the brown eyes of the older woman changed to one of affliction, and with a speed that surprised you, Aurora grabbed your hands and stared into your eyes.

“Olvídate de lo que viste.  Tu no viste una niña en el agua, fue tu imaginación.”

“Pero abuela yo –"

“No! ¡Olvídate de eso, es un mito y nada más! ¡Él es un mito!”

You slipped out of the older woman's grip, and uncertainty invaded you as you took a step back and looked at her suspiciously. And without explaining her outburst, the grandma spun around to continue her stroll as if nothing had happened.

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What the fuck just happened? After thirty minutes of wandering all alone with your rambling and perturbed thoughts. You met grandma in a public park, she offered you a taste of one of her empanadas when you admitted that you had never tried them. It was a fact, she knew something about that underwater child. Tomorrow morning you will have to be persistent and get answers. But what if she's protecting you from something? Is he a myth? Who is a myth?

Your pensive gaze rose to see your cabin illuminated, with its decorative lights on the railing, the warm and gentle breeze swaying the palms leaves, making your skin nippy due to the sweat. So peaceful. Nothing disturbed you.

Your tote bag slipped from your shoulder, falling on the sand with a quiet thud. You didn’t left the backyards lights on.  It’s like a ritual to you, turning all the lights before going outside.   Instinct invades you, slits black pupils narrowed, attempting to search for any sign of threat.

There were three classifications among your people who had unique gifts. For example, a group was for the community, healers, and builders. Another group was for working minds to voice the complaints and wishes of the communities to avoid conflict between tribes.

You knelt without breaking contact with your home and grasped a fist of sand, a familiar warmth spread in your right hand, turning the little sand into a glass-looking lance.

Then there's your group, fiercely protecting the community with their lives. Who attack first and asks questions later.  But you gotta be cautious cause this is not your planet; this environment is not filled with humongous beast or neighborhood tribes who wished to raid your hom.

Earth doesn’t have that.

“Come out before I’ll drag you by the throat.”  Your threat was loud, making sure whatever was inside your home could hear it. A rustle from your left was heard, loud and approaching you, bending your knees into a defense position, raising your spear to your shoulder.

“Much ma' in meentik loob…”  Please, don’t hurt me.

Your gaze immediately softened, and you lowered the spear. Your heartbeat delayed its frantic pace, realizing you were not going to fight your life. A huge relief for you because you were wondering how you would hide the body. There was the cause of your inner turmoil.  Giving you the biggest puppy eyes you have ever seen, wet hair still dripping, which indicates she must have been hiding in the water not too long ago, but a whiff of copper made you blink. The little girl was still holding her arm to her chest, there was no bleeding, but the gash on her forearm looked red and angry, needing treatment.

You took a step forward but halted when she quickly took two steps back. Her widened eyes were staring at something, and you looked down, ah right how could you forget the dangerous weapon in your hand. Slowly you kneeled down, keeping eye contact with the girl, dropping the glass weapon, and the second it made contact with the white sand, it returned to its original form.

The little girl gasped with wonder as she walked towards you with new courage, speaking in her mother language you could not understand.

“Teech juntúul k'uj?  K'a'abéet a beel juntúul bey le intia'al, Kukulkán!”  Are you a god?  You must be one like mine, Kukulkan!

 You crouched correctly to her eye level as you raised your hands. “Woah, woah, I – I cannot understand you,”

The girl paused as she heard you speak, frowning.  

“Ah, you don’t understand me, okay….” You muttered to yourself, feeling conflicted about how to communicate with her.  “That nasty wound will get infected if it isn’t treated.”

The girl tilted your head as she blinked at your word. You pointed at her wound. “What happened to you?”

 She glanced at it briefly and shrugged. “  Yaan u ts'akik chúunk'in, le xiibo' estúpido lúub yóok'ol tin yéetel in la'achik.”  It will heal later, that stupid man fell on me and scratched me.

You understood the word stupid, but you could not decipher the rest. However, inside your home, you could use your native technology to help her and be able to translate what she said. You straightened to your height and offered your hand. The little girl stared at it, then at you. Curiosity but caution gleamed in her brown eyes, clearly not trusting you fully.

Using the same hand, you offered you pointed where your heart was. “Xola,” You offered your hand again, hoping the little girl would understand your intentions. You just wanted to help her and perhaps know more about her origins.