The Sea Witch

A wish is a wish, after all.

Destruction had not been her path; she had not wished to harm another, but when desperation held her by the throat, the sea witch was out of choices.

Each day, she would visit the stones laid by her kin to remember those they had lost. Years passed this way until one day, she was all that was left. She made a promise to the stones as they looked up at her with craggy, wet edges, decorated with moss and starfish. She made a wish in the company of the coral, the fish and the stones. 

In her world, a throne now sank its feet into the tail of a once thriving empire. An imposter controlled the waves with a trident torn from the grip of a more understanding servant. The pretender ruled with an iron fist, forcing all in his way to surrender, for he was a new breed of evil– man and fish. 

The existence of the merfolk had been a curse, on the one hand, for creatures like her; she had to remember that they had a weakness. The merfolk were, after all, half-man. Man was easy to corrupt. Elders like herself knew that man eventually destroyed himself, but she couldn't wait that long.

The merfolk were vain, narrow-minded, and like all bottom-feeders before them, consumed what others above them had discarded. She had no qualms with offering them fatal potions, lovesick formulas or doom in a bottle. They deserved it. They were scum. 

Irreconcilable differences, emotional burdens, unrequited love, unfulfilled dreams– she could cast a spell and make it all go away– for a price. 

Her collection of souls grew year on year. One day, she would have enough. One day, she would take back what was hers. 

She would lie on the seafloor and watch the shadows pass above her hut– ships. She had not been the only one to see them. 

One morning, a little mermaid, no older than sixteen, swam to her door. The sea witch looked out and regarded the angelic face, surrounded by a halo of floating tendrils. A princess, no less. What a fine beauty had sprung from such a despised sire, like the goddess borne of the sea foam, cut from her father’s loins. 

A desperation that she saw in the girl sickened her, for she felt it too. A distorted reflection crossed her line of fading sight. The same song echoed in both their hearts. It longed to be free. 

The mermaid wanted to be human; the witch wanted revenge. They came to a deal. 

She vowed never to let futility get in the way of a good transaction, and offered the mermaid human legs for her voice. The girl gave it without a second thought, like a fool in love. 

The witch watched wistfully from her watery home, wanting to intervene. She wanted to stop it all from happening. A part of her was fighting for its life, spurred on by a pang of guilt, but the monster she had borne within her was as virile as it was hungry, and it could not be suppressed. 

As predicted, the mermaid fell compulsively, hopelessly in love. The prince fell in love too, but not with her. 

Against her better judgement, the sea witch swam to the surface to find the girl, who was crying on the shore, begging to return home; that was not the deal. 

The witch handed her the dagger. “But wait–” she found herself saying. “Use it on him. His blood will break the spell and you can return.” Return. She hated herself for saying it. Return where? She didn’t want her. The girl was pitiful, vain, hapless and dejected, but she was just a girl. Just a foolish little girl. The witch looked away in disdain. A wish was a wish, after all. 

Two nights passed and the witch wondered, what had become of the girl? A soul had not sailed into her collection. She wondered if it still had yet to come. 

Then, the following morning, she saw it all in her mind’s eye. She watched as the dagger cut, gutting her like a fish. Her beautiful, young blood spilled like ribbons into the foam below, painting the rocks with licks of crimson. The waves reached up and held her, soothing her sobs with their salty kisses, pulling her down into eternity. The little mermaid disappeared into the dark depths beneath and with her, her family’s legacy. 

Sea foam spattered onto the cluster of rocks where the girl had once stood. Their bubbles scattered and popped like last breaths. 

Down on the seafloor, the sea witch lay still. Feeling the finality, the relief, the loss in her bones– she gasped. She was now free.