Diary Entry, on Eve of April 17, 1753, by his good and right Richard Michalin, Fr., in service of Our Lord, this year of our most precious Lord and Savior.1
...at sea, and still in mourning over my lost love, my lovely Lucia, whom death shall never take from my heart.2
I find myself yet in the deepest agonies of despair and longing for her; the way she’d prance up to me to kiss me; the way she’d spin in glee beneath our umbrella on the rainy streets of London as we’d huddle beneath, it being much too small to be unromantic.
Her hair and her hands and the way her arm curved, all these things, I miss and long to have in my life again. I do not fear the wrath of God in this matter, for though the Church is my master as I live and serve it as a priest, I am my own master in my love and of my heart.
Yet, knowing this to be an impossibility, this dream that I should once again find a love so true and, as the flower of my heart and passion of my blood, one that would rule my dreams, I continue with its ongoing torment and hope. How I do yet love my fair Lucia.
I believe to live without hope is far worse than to live knowing that my only hope is an impossibility. Now I must write of another matter, greatly of much concern.
I find myself being followed by a dark and venomous gentleman of swarthy, Protestant appearance, a member of the crew, and have become fearful that he or one of his compatriots have in mind to rob me or do me harm. I shall report my suspicisions to the Steward and Captain, if I must, first thing on the morrow, but for now I must write the following tale, a short fictional write, most odd for a diary entry but which I feel compelled to write for reasons unknown to me.
This diary entry shall be read by no one but myself and so the contents of this strange tale shall never be known, for I find it to be most odd and inexplicable, and perhaps strongly heretical, and shall make confession to Monsignor as earliest possible convenience upon first landfall.
As a beginning to my story, I must write the following:
I am excited to report that I spotted a dolphin the other morning, a most beautiful thing this creature was, its curvaceous speed and might, and have expectations of viewing this majestic beast again tomorrow during first watch of the crew, before breakfast and directly at sunrise, as I say morning prayers and give thanks to our Blessed Mother for her mercies, as Her Blessed Son, has for us long ago delivered, if we but seek her mercy and aid in doing so.
But I digress, for this was a most unusual dolphin, and a harbinger of things dreadful and heavenly to come.
I look forward to a peaceful rest on the rocking tide of the ocean without sea sickness, hopefully, but first I must write this tale, for how I loved her, my secret love, Lucia.
I met with a sea being, for want of a better word, a mermaid, as they, the venomous and sinister protestant-looking fellow and one of his compatriots threw me into the ocean from the fore deck, after seizing my wallet. As I hit the water, air exploded from my mouth by the force of the fall; I felt agony of my ribs and hips shatter and I began to sink, half conscious. There was no possibility of cries for help. Sound as humans produce has no power in the deep water of the sea.
This beautiful thing, this mermaid, was firm and silent and dove after me off the dolphin’s back as I struggled for air and was taking in salt water and small fish in silent, body heaving throes. Her face stayed directly in front of mine during the entire descent. Her hair like black strands of evening sky, flowered and fanned above us as I sank deeper and deeper. She smiled and kissed my forehead as I began to die. 3
But, I had seen her before, I am certain, so I must go back and explain. Several days had passed since I had first seen her, this mermaid entity. 4
I had been entranced from the very instant of that first moment of seeing her, when a long wet curl of blackest thick hair running along the side of the morning dolphin, grabbed my surprised attention. This was one of many dolphins who often give themselves the assignment of escorting tourist vessels for awhile along the coast of Africa. 5
I was stunned. How, I thought is a long lock of hair to become attached to a dolphin? The dolphin was merry that day, even for a dolphin, for though Dolphins are not the Kings of the Ocean, that title belonging to the Blue Whale for its size and majesty, they can be quite merry. They believe that ships are toys for racing against, or so it is said.
The next day as I stood relaxing near the front of the ship, bracing myself against the sea-sickness-trickery of the sea, for this was the first time I had ever been on board any type of sea going vessel and had been quite ill, when again I saw the hair on the same dolphin. This time it was flowing around the dolphin from beneath instead of just along side it.
Then I saw one of her eyes.
It was the most beautiful eye I had ever seen, and there was the hint of a naked, curvaceous female form swimming like a fish behind it beneath the hair . I was a aghast. I had heard that mermaids were actually quite dangerous and there were stories that they were certainly demons with the power to fool men’s eyes until the poor wretches they seduced off vessels would find themselves in the clutches of a horrible, slimy demon. who would eat them alive, slowly over a period of agonizing days.
I was soon to find out for myself, for as I began to mercifully loose consciousness she tilted her face at me, glimmering her golden, green eyes gracing the most beautiful mouth I had ever seen.
She was a great comfort me during my descent into the ocean depths.
She kissed me as the ocean bed grew nearer and white, red and miraculously shaped coral swept away off into a watery, immense landscape, in which we were quite alone. I felt air pour into my desperate lungs and force water out into her kiss. I saw her bending, arching neck as she gathered me in her arms, her mouth still covering mine as her tongue pressed along mine. It felt as though I had entered a place of consciousness where there was only the beauty and the wonder of her and me in a vast world full of rich, fresh air and peace: green and blue its sky for we were flying like birds with gills and scales into a bottomless depth of the sea.
As she continued to hold me as though I were a child, yet in flight, her breasts like songs pressed my side and her mouth continued to gather inside mine, giving me air and life. I fell asleep in her arms as her mouth continued to replace water that had entered my stomach and lungs, as she kissed me and held me safely close to her.
When I awoke, I was completely naked, shaved smooth from head to toe and felt very young, strangely young. My skin was smooth and sweet in appearance, like a baby’s after a long nap on a quiet summer morning beneath an apple tree in a mother’s arms. She was sitting on my stomach and stroking my hair as she leaned forward and kissed me sweetly and slowly, then sat up straight as her hair brushed away from my face.
“Good morning,” she hummed to me. Her voice did not form words by itself, but seemed to be offering a complex web of sighing and purring sounds, which for some reason unbeknownst to me, I could understand perfectly, as well as feel. My heart began to sing and I distinctly remembered the first small bird I had ever found: a fledgling, glossy and nervous yet brave. I could remember suddenly every bird or tree I had ever seen or climbed, and every bird I had ever envied with love.
She tilted her head and smiled as she placed both of my hands along the outside of her legs, pushing them toward her hips and behind as she pressed her knees into my side. Her eyes sparkled.
I began to speak but she quickly placed a finger on my lips and motioned with her other arm. I understood, then, that I was in a sea cavern filled with water the color of purest transparency in a currentless repose, and looked for all the world to be completely empty of water. It was the precise temperature of my body, for I had no sensation of wetness. The woman weight of her body as she sat on me kept me from sensing any physical tendency to float or move to the gentle current which ran along my arms, legs and back. So I began to speak, in spite of her warning, but before I could utter a sound or even open my mouth she began to kiss me.
Her breath entered me just as it had during our descent. It felt like mountain air very similar to the fragrance I first could remember now, for some reason, the one I inhaled at the exact moment of my first howl into the light of a birthing room.
I began to relax and feel at great peace as she kissed me slowly, moving her mouth along mine the way leaves and birds move in a tender, wafting breeze.
I began to return her kiss with increasing ardency and interest, for I was no longer afraid of drowning, in fact, I could barely remember having been so tossed off the bridge of a giant ship. at all, and had lost all conscious need to know where I was or what was happening.
“You only know,” she whispered, using her complex web of sounds and purrs, “that you love me, now.” And she began to work her hips down onto me. “How you do love me,” she cried, putting her finger onto my lips and swathing my ear with her moistened lips.
I was desperate to speak, but knew that I must not. I suspected she could only empty my lungs of water once. So I simply began to move my closed lips along her finger as it stayed there to remind me to not speak. I did not know how long I would be forbidden to speak, and I was becoming less and less concerned with anything but her body as she leaned forward, taking me deeply and tenderly into her.
“Warmth, my lover,” she crooned and rubbed her svelteness around me. My eyes closed as she sat slowly up and bent her head back, her fingers all on my face, stroking my lips and my throat as her hair pulled away and fanned upward into the perfection of water of this place. Her throat bent back and opened my eyes and saw her Adams Apple pulse like a glistening morning star as she sang and purred and hummed to my deep fluttering inside her. Her breasts moved up and down as she coaxed me further and further into another fluttering song. Her face shone like a candle shadow to blind man who sees for the first time.
“Oh how you still love me,” she swooned and encouraged me press her round hips with my hands, “after all these years.”
And she looked down and smiled to me, moving her hips and her legs to encourage me to gain strength again. “How I longed for you as I rode the dolphins back. So many years I have waited for you, I beloved love of your heart, and you my sweet Richard.” A tear rolled down her cheek and instantly floated like a crystal spark away into the gentle ocean ‘s sway.
Her face had changed and become even more beautiful, and her hair the glorious blonde red of pale wine shades of an Easter Morning as my cries of joy allowed the water to enter my whole being and I rolled her gently off of me, and picked her up and carried her away into the wondrous expanse of this blue world, for she my beloved, secret wife whom death no longer held for I had come to join her and this place ....heaven.
“Lucia,” I cried. “Lucia!”
She looked away from me to feel the sea upon her face and it was then upon her shoulder that several tears of divine joy splendid, perfect and pure fell upon the smooth perfection of an angel’s shoulder skin: purest symbols of her love for me. One, the largest, was mine for her.6
... for in the sea, a tear of love, like a diamond, remains forever where it falls.7
signed, 8
R. M. fr.9
PS: I sincerely look forward to my morning prayers tomorrow at sunrise, and perhaps shall find more to write about at that time.10
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Silver trophy winner
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