She sat on the dock, staring at the wide open water in front of her. Angel fish leap out of the dark depths, splashing back in again. She watched them, remembering tales of the mermaids that her mother had told her so long ago. 'Be wary of them, my dear..' she had said, her clear blue eyes knowing. 'They are craftier than they seem. Someday, they may find you too.' The wood of the dock creaked quietly beneath her, sighing as the wind did, flowing past her with tiny waves.
The crests of the ocean were always more free than she.
She sighed softly, standing and brushing off her dark pants inhaling the salty air of the ocean. She turned, walking back up the long dirt road to her run-down home, past the fishmonger's and the tiny other shops in the town, all covered in cobwebs, yet still somehow gaining business.
"I am home," she called as she opened the creaking wooden door, knowing none would answer, yet still hoping someone would. She'd been alone for a long while. She ran her hand along the banister, walking up the flight of stairs to her room. She looked at the bookshelf, touching one of the bindings carefully. It was weathered and worn, but contained something more valuable than it seemed.
Her father's diary, full of war stories and letters to her mother.