PART II
SIX
Metamorphosis
19th Century
Christopher emerged from the ocean on a pale afternoon, cradling the strange creature in his arms. Rain fell innocently over the gentle waves, while his fatigue became evident in every step he took. He carried her to a shore and laid her down on a somewhat rough patch of sand. He removed his jacket and used it to cover her torso.
The mermaid had a unique anatomy, with hip bones that appeared similar to those of a human. Her tail had a shimmering texture, with colors that transformed depending on the viewing angle. They ranged from sky blue, passed through cyan, cerulean, and at the edges, reached intense blues. It still had him captivated.
He placed his hand on what he presumed was a thigh and felt no scales. It was a firm muscle with a smooth touch. But as his eyes examined her body, he noticed something strange was happening. The tail lost its rigidity and turned into a thin, flexible layer that began to pulse like a heart. Gradually, it started becoming transparent, revealing an internal anatomy that seemed to defy all explanation. Cartilage and muscle fibers began to appear as the scales sloughed off.
For a moment, he considered returning her to the sea, but he knew it was already too late. He was too tired, and the mermaid was severely injured. A fissure divided the tail vertically into two, and two limbs began to form naturally. Christopher could see how bones, veins, and arteries reorganized within them, while muscles gradually regenerated.
What had once been a tail had dissipated into a viscous liquid that lost thickness and was absorbed by the sand, like water. The proto-legs pulsated as internal connections completed their formation. Then, nerves began causing small reflex tremors, randomly vibrating the toes, thigh muscles, and calves, as if testing their connections.
Finally, he observed the skin beginning to regain its solidity and slowly covering the internal anatomy. Everything that had been a sea tail had undergone a biological metamorphosis, and now there were two legs of exquisite allure and elegance, ending in two feet of enviable perfection. The mermaid exuded a seductive tenderness, and her beauty and grace were irresistible. Although Christopher knew that the best thing for her would be to return to the sea, he couldn't help but be captivated by her unique seduction and elegance.
Christopher borrowed a horse he found tethered under a balcony and headed towards the rocky area. Carefully, he lifted the mermaid onto the horse and covered her with a blanket, ensuring she didn't look like a body, and transported her as quickly as possible. He had to be cautious, as he was not only pursued by the civilian infantry but also had an unfamiliar animal and an unconscious woman with him.
He turned a corner and swiftly snatched a hat from a passing man. The man pursued him on foot, shouting for others to follow the bare-chested rider. Christopher stopped for a moment and, still mounted on the horse, addressed the man with a forced smile.
"Excuse me, friend, but I need this hat. It's an emergency," he said, trying to sound convincing.
"Give me back my hat, thief!" the man yelled, furious.
Christopher rode away without further ado, knowing he couldn't afford to be captured. The man chased him on foot until he grew tired of running, and no one could catch up with the horse. It was another necessary loan because surely a patrol squad could recognize him when passing through the city center.
While crossing the street adjacent to La Capilla de Nuestra Señora de la Merced, a trio of corporals walked under the arcades, laughing and sharing gossip. Christopher lowered the brim of his straw hat and continued on, shading his face in the shadow to avoid being recognized.
Once beyond the officers, Christopher sighed with relief and managed to pick up some speed, although he couldn't gallop because he didn't want to harm the delicate mermaid. He felt the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he distanced himself from danger.
Fortunately, or through mundane coincidence, when they reached the two-story boarding house where he rented a room, the entrance was deserted. Christopher pulled the reins in front of the entrance and dismounted. He opened the door and, carefully, carried the mermaid in his arms and entered hastily.
*
By candlelight, the mermaid rested in all her beauty.
Christopher moved the books from the desk with his arm and, carefully, placed a bottle of alcohol, gauze, and cotton. He poured the liquid onto one and sat down near the bed to begin tending to her.
As he untied her gown, the scrapes and bruises on the mermaid's skin were revealed all over her torso.
Gently, Christopher made a cotton ball and placed it gently on a bruise near her navel; her skin shivered at his touch. He then cleaned the injury on her rib and disinfected the marks on her breasts. He passed another cotton ball across her battered cheek and bloodied lips, removing the sand that had stuck to her wounds.
You were an enigma, an endless web of threads whose answer always remained hidden in the farthest...
When he finished treating her, he dried her with a white towel and covered her with the sheet so she could rest in peace.
...and went away with you, leaving no trace of what it contained.
Present
Christopher closes his notebook and gazes up at the sky. Darkness begins to fall. He stands up, checks his clothes, and ensures they are dry. He gets dressed and ties a shirt around his neck to support his injured arm. Then, he packs his belongings into his backpack and slings it over his shoulder.
He strides across the vast plain, not knowing exactly where he is or where he's going.
I had to investigate every loose thread you left behind to try to find an answer by rewiring it all. Perhaps I wasn't the only one who had threads of you, but I thought I would be able to decipher you.
With the notebook in hand, he walks for hours until darkness begins to obscure his vision. As he scans the horizon, he sees only a row of earthy mountains. The air currents begin to gain strength. They lift his hair and buffet his clothes like frantic flags.
The closer I got, the more you entangled me.
He tucks the notebook into his jacket, in the pocket near his heart. He hugs his chest and pushes forward, fighting against the wind.
I wish I could have been the one to heal your tattered attire. Heavens! I really wish I could tell you, my Mermaid.
Christopher becomes nothing more than a solitary human figure advancing across the vast plain.
Limbo
Christopher continues to float in the midst of the eternal dungeon. He opens his eyes and observes the walls projecting towards the infinite light. He no longer finds mirrors around him, but in his wounds, he discovers that the shards are embedded all over his body, covering him like a radiant armor.
From the infinite, a thread of light shoots down like a laser and collides with the concrete floor, remaining motionless. It seems to be waiting for something.
Christopher feels curiosity, makes a slight effort, and approaches with weightless grace. Every muscle stimulus causes him a chain of pains that compel him to endure a series of induced images about clouds moving like foam over desolate plains and rugged, gloomy mountains. He moves like a lost alien wandering outside the cosmos, encapsulated in his inflexible astronaut suit.
He reaches the slender, gleaming cord and examines it. Upon appreciating its light, a flash propels him into memories of rough slopes, misty valleys, and streams of clothing. Wrapped in the intricate trance, Christopher uses his frostbitten fingers to grab a large piece of mirror embedded in his chest, wrenches it off forcefully, and lets out a silent roar. The pain expels him from the delirium, but the luminous thread remains present, demanding what he holds in his hand.
Christopher brings the bloodied piece closer, which is drawn by a strange magnetism. The piece flies and positions itself beneath the line of light, starting to spin on its own axis, gaining speed. Its faces reflect luminous lines throughout the space. In moments, the object gains such revolution that it contracts upon itself, bending the air around it, and absorbs the thread of light with a flash.
Christopher retrieves the piece again and observes himself in it, but what it reflects does not match his face.
Another thread of light shoots from the endless sky.
Christopher moves again, removes another piece, and places it on the luminous line. This one begins to spin, gaining speed until it absorbs the light. Christopher retrieves the piece and joins it with the previous one.
The cracked edges of both fit perfectly, like pieces of a puzzle. They merge into a single piece. Christopher brings his eye closer to see himself in the reflection, but he sees her eye. Their pupils magnetically merge, and an irresistible force sucks him in, plunging him into an abyss of past images.
Past
The woman in the crimson beanie waited for Christopher as she gazed out of the library's window. It was the usual time; the sky released its dark blue magic while the streetlights in the square outside began to bathe the surroundings in a warm ochre glow.
Then, she heard the library door open. She knew it was him. She turned around, and there he was, Christopher. She kept her nerves in check as he approached to leave his information at the reception. When he looked up, they recognized each other despite the distance. She was wearing tight jeans, ballerina flats adorned with flowers, and an orange top that exposed her belly button and curves.
They settled in the last aisle. She sat on the solitary couch, while Christopher perched on the window ledge, eye level with her.
"It's your turn," she said, offering him a pen from her messenger bag.
Christopher read the last paragraphs and poised the pen over the paper, but his mind was blank. It was something that happened to him sometimes after writing a few pages, but it had never happened so early in a story. He thought for a moment and gave up.
"I don't know what to write," he admitted.
The woman smiled sweetly and asked him, "Yesterday, you left me wondering, why were they sentencing him to death?"
Christopher's eyes met hers, and he found the answer in her pupils.
While outside, the sky grew darker, and the streetlights seemed brighter than usual, Christopher began to write, fueled by the presence of the woman in the crimson beanie beside him.
In the silence of the library, he wanted to capture her on paper so that he would never forget how her presence felt, so that her essence would never fade from his mind. He also aimed to unravel and heal the enigma that shrouded his heart and the depths of his soul, something he knew he could only achieve while she remained by his side.
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