#watching the corpse of your lover sink into the murky water and wanting to lay down beside it

[itsyourcoffinnowmylove]

Aside from that stuff, I don't really care about a majority of the changes they made but they better have a scene of Lestat being dumped in the swamp. If his body isn't disposed of in the swamp I may cry.

[merak-zoran]

For the Creature Feature, how about mermaids? Not like the little mermaid, more like Abe Sapien-- like actually 'Human evolved to live underwater' and isn't just a human with a fish tail? human woman with merman?

I’m not sure if this is what you had in mind, but I had a great time writing it. 

Content warnings: Suicidal ideation, the ocean, alcoholism. ~3300 words.

Undertow

The ocean pulls at him.

Obron walks down to the water, atnight. There is nothing there but ocean and black sky. A constantroar of waves and wind. All the grand hotels behind him have shut offthe lights and he feels the pull and tug, the massive presence ofnature begging him to drown. The fear takes him and he returns home.

Novi Sad was a city of colors andvibrancy. Here on the Oregon coast, where he's been since he was ten,everything was grey, green and brown. There is a certain beauty inthe moss covered trees, but he misses the color of his youth. Fatherwasn't so unhappy back home. Here he drinks, every night. Obron walksin the house, sees father lying on the couch, his face slack from thecheap beer he puts away every night. Mother is in bed, as usual. Hestares at the snoring beast on the couch and goes to bed, dreaming ofthe depths.

When father dies, it is not a surpriseto him. Of course he wouldn't go to the doctor, not until his liverwas rotting and bloated, like the corpse of the washed up seal Obronsaw last week. His death was quick and painful. He died screaming.Mother seems to not care, and Obron wonders if she has been waitingall these years for him to go. He buys the boat, after father is inthe ground. It is a decrepit thing, but it didn't cost much.

Mother goes next. Her heart stops oneday and she is dead before her body lands on the kitchen floor. Andhe is alone, in an empty house. Empty but for papers, and trinketsand all these bolts of cloth. He sells as much as he can, and takesan extra job. The years go by, and he sees lovers pass in and out ofhis life. The women are kind, but they do not pull him, not like thewater. There is Maggie, with her scarred breasts and fat belly, andraucous laughter. He likes Maggie, but when she tells him she'smarried, he ends things between them.

Solace is found in the arms of thefisherman. Typical Oregon country man, with a beard down to hisbelly, Old Golds in his pocket, and the lit stump hanging between hislips while he repairs his crab pots. He is gentle with Obron. For awhile he thinks he's found a home in this small town, but the boatsings his name at night.

Obron hates music. And so he works onthe boat in silence, preferring the sound of sandpaper on wood. Fornearly a decade he works, polishing, finishing up little details,until his boat is a livable vessel. When he leaves, he tells no one.The truck is old and rusted, and barely makes the drive down to thejetty. He thinks as he packs his things, that perhaps he should sellthe house, or tell Maggie goodbye. He's done so much work for herover the years.

Obron decides nobody will miss him.

He leaves the keys on the front seat ofthe truck. Someone can use it. The motor runs, the sails unfurl.There is a small kitchen, a cramped bathroom and a lovely bed. Theocean will be his home now. He's never wanted anything so much in hislife. He steers away from the jetty, and does not look back.

The first week is the greatest of hislife. He is free. It does not take long to be out of sight of land.He stays up late at night, drinking tea and watching the stars. Thereare satellites, blinking and flashing. And he sees planes, full ofpeople on their way to Asia. They are too far away for him to hear.The only music is that of the sea, the soft slaps of the waves on thehull. In the mornings, he can make out the barges. Massive anddistant, like floating skyscrapers, bringing goods to America.

There comes a day when he sees a whale.It comes up for air, so close to his boat he can see the marks on itsback. Salt spray lands on his cheeks, and sticks in his beard. He iscaptivated by the size of the creature. It rises up, curls down anddives. An impulse takes him, to jump on its back and go down to thedepths, to see what men cannot. He grips the railing instead, andtears fill his eyes. He has never been this happy in his life.

Fish and lemons and rice. It's a boringdiet, but the fish is fresh and he does not care. He lets the boatdrift some days, and when the first storm hits, he stays in hiscabin. Part of him wants to capsize, to end his life at the bottom ofthe sea, but a wave picks up his vessel and drops it and the feargrips him. He wants to live.

The next day, he sees the island. It'sso small, nothing like the fantasy desert island people always talkabout. It is rocky and barren. He stops anyway, and ties up his boatto a nearby dead tree. A crow watches him, clacking deep in itsbreast. Obron wonders as he walks on the stones if any human hasstepped here before. He has no way of knowing. It is warm here, andthe sun shines overhead. A flat rock traps the heat and he stretchesout on it, sleeping without meaning to.

He awakens to a hand on his cheek. Thesolid green eyes looking back at him are not human, but theintelligence spears into his mind. The man before him has murky greenskin, webbing that stretches from his wrists to his waist, like thewings of a devil fish. Thick blubber covers powerful muscle. His legsare long, his feet the same length as his shins. There are no toes,only flippers. Obron stares hard at the man, and the man stares back.

“I should not be here,” he says andhis voice is resonant and rich, like the waves.

“Where should you be?” Obron asks,and wonders how this sea creature can speak. There are gills, butthere are also nostrils, sealed with flaps of skin that withdraw whenhe inhales. “You speak English?” he asks, not waiting for ananswer to his first question.

“Your radios are noisy, and we heareverything. Some of my fellows speak your other languages. We haveour own, but you look like you come from the American side.”

“What are you?” Obron sits up,finally, feeling a fool for lying on his back while meeting a strangeand unusual man.

“What? Should you not ask 'who?' Myname is Kell.”

“Obron,” he says in return.

“Obron,” Kell repeats, and hisaccent is terrible.  Obron repeats his name, showing him how to skipover the R, like a child playing hopscotch. Kell is a good sport, andsoon he gets it correct. They talk for a time, and Obron invites Kellonto the boat. He isn't sure why, but he feels a pull towards Kell,that he must speak to him as much as possible. Perhaps he isn't thefirst man to set foot on the island, but he might be the first totalk to Kell's kind.

They sail together for a week. Everymorning Kell dives below the grey waters, his body disappearing intothe deep. Obron wonders how his people have never been discovered,until he sees how the man blends into the ocean. Kell returns,armfuls of kelp presented as a gift. It becomes soup, nourishing andrich. Obron adds the bones and heads of the fish he catches,simmering everything together until the aroma makes his stomach growlwith need.

They talk at night, and Obron finds thesong of Kell's voice the only music he craves. He listens hard, as ifhe can memorize everything Kell says to him. The favor is returned.Above, clouds pass over the stars and Obron doesn't know where onEarth he is, but he does not care. He is alone with Kell and he doesnot wish for others. He stops seeing airplanes.

Kell leaves for a time, telling Obronhe will be back once he finds what he's seeking. There is a secretthere, but Obron cannot tease it out, no matter how many questions hepesters Kell with. Again, his body slips below the waves, and Obronis alone once more. The days become weeks. And Obron misses Kell,more than he has ever missed anyone.

He is ashamed that his parents rarelypass into his thoughts. Instead he lays in his comfortable bed,dreaming of Kell's return. It is not long before he dreams of fallingasleep on Kell's chest, of lacing his short fingers into Kell's longones. He has not touched Kell, but he imagines the feel of his skin.It looks smooth and sweet. Kell does not wear clothing, so theoutside of his body is no mystery to Obron. The nudity comforts him,somehow. Kell is an open book, bared to the stars.

The third week he convinces himselfthat Kell could not be capable of desiring him. He is of the sea, abeautiful man of muscle and fat. His world is a secret, one Obron cannever be a part of. Kell is comfortable on the deck of the boat.Obron would be crushed by the waves, his lungs filling with seawater,his meager body shriveling in the icy cold. He cannot keep himselffrom his own dreams, and they are filled with Kell, nose to nose,exchanging soft words into the night. Maggie never had the same pull,nor did Gabriel, the old fisherman.

When Kell returns, Obron is surprised.The man is sitting on the bench, a woven basket next to him. The lidis woven as well, and Kell gifts Obron with a grin before opening it.More kelp, but he peels it back and a bounty lies beneath. Oysters,hidden in their shells.

“I went to the coast of northernJapan,” Kell says, and his voice makes Obron's heart sing. “Ittook some time, but I gathered these. I thought we could eat themtonight.”

“You'll stay?” Obron says,surprised.

“You thought I wouldn't return,” hesays, with another smile. “Of course I came back. You are myfriend, now.”

Friend. Obronsmiles back, but his heart sinks into his belly. Foolish, to thinkthere was more. They do eat the oysters, each gift of the sea slidingdown Obron's throat and making his eyes close with pleasure. Theocean provides.

Kellfollows Obron into the cabin, once night truly falls. Obron takes hisplace on the bed and Kell joins him, and tells him how his peoplesleep. Floating in the water, releasing a soft and low sonar,undetectable by human instruments. It prevents them from running intosharks, or other predators, though their children are sometimestaken. Obron learns that Kell lost a brother this way, and he noticesthen the scar that runs on Kell's calf. It is a line of silver,against the deep green of his skin. Obron resists the urge to touchit, though he desires to run his tongue along the pit.

Whenhe wakes, he is next to Kell, close enough to feel breath on hisface. He feigns sleep, wanting this moment to last. Kell is silent,and just the soft motion of his nostrils lets Obron know he's stillalive. Alive, and warm and all he ever wants.

Thenext night he sleeps alone. A dream of Kell holding him close carrieshim away, keeping him on the edge of sleep. Obron's hand goes to hiscock, and he calls Kell's name between his teeth when he is sated. Hecannot deny his love for Kell any longer, and something must change.

It isn't fair, hethinks. They are separated by the water. Kell may spend days andweeks aboard the boat, but his life is beneath the waves. To dream ofKell's love is only a dream, and it cannot come true, not for Obron.Not for a human, incapable of breathing water. Not for a short man,not for a man with broken blood vessels against his cheeks, areceding hairline, a man who hates music and loves solitude. Not fora man who cannot swim with Kell, or see his home. Not for a man whodreams of being held, of being loved.

Theyare sitting on the deck together, laughing. Obron has been tellingKell stories of Oregon, of his adjustment to American life. There isno ceremony when Kell takes Obron's hand. He splays out his fingersand traces the nails, looking at them with curiosity. Obron realizesthen that he is as much a foreigner to Kell as Kell is to Obron. Hebites his lip, in part because the touch has sent heat to his groin,and in part to keep from saying something foolish.

Helets his head rest on Kell's shoulder, and Kell does not move away.

Theyhave been sailing for who knows how long when a port comes into view.Obron realizes he's in Hawaii. The dream vacation for so many of hisformer neighbors. It's a small town, and he is able to trade forlemons, oranges. An old man gives him a wedge of pineapple and thesweetness brings a tear to his eye. Kell had jumped off the boatmiles off the coast, promising to meet him later.

Obronbuys a pound of ground pork, and a cabbage that costs nearly the sameamount of money. He thinks about presenting Kell with a plate ofsarma, ugly little cabbage rolls filled with rice and pork. Heremembers his mother's sarma, and how his father would be silentlyhappy upon eating it. It's home, in pallid dish. It takes him thebetter part of a day to make it, but Kell's smile is worth it.

Howlong has he lived on this boat? There are weeks when he loses trackof time, sailing under the vast sky. Kell sings for him one night andit breaks his heart. The green man, on the prow of the vessel,singing into the black emptiness of the sea. They lay in bed togetherand Obron shivers and draws the blanket around them.

Kell'slips find his. “Is this okay?” he asks, cupping Obron's chin.Obron can only nod, before opening up to Kell. The tangle of arms andlegs, the feel of his smooth skin under his hands fills his head.There is nothing to think about anymore. Just the movement of Kell'sbody above his. Long and cool hands lace between Obron's fingers andpin them beside his head. The kissing grows urgent, and Obron tastesthe sea and lets himself drown.

Saltfills his mouth. Powerful fat legs wrap around Obron's thighs whenKell lowers himself onto his cock. He feels hands stroking down hischest and opens his eyes. Kell is smiling at the sensation of hairunder his hands. He is looking into Obron's eyes, and Obron sees aclear lid blink behind Kell's outer eyelids. He can blink, and nottake his gaze away. Obron is jealous.

Hetraces Kell's fins. Leathery wings that meet at his waist. They aresmoother than he'd imagined. Kell glides through water, but on landhis movements are heavy and firm. Obron touches his thick stomach,runs his hands up over his chest. No nipples, no navel, his strangebody no longer foreign. He whispers his love to Kell, and the favoris returned. Kell is riding him like he rides the waves, and the boatitself rises to meet them. Obron arches his back, and then sits up,wrapping his arms around Kell's shoulders. He cannot get enough ofthis man, this man of the sea. It is the drowning he craves. He ispulled under, and the deep breaths he takes do not save him.  Heloves Kell, as he loves the ocean, as he loves his freedom. He pusheshis love into Kell, trying to impress upon him how deep it runs.

Kellbreaks first, his body trembling above Obron. They are entangled andObron lets himself spill into Kell, holding him close. He holds Kellall night, unable to sleep. A moment of sleep would take him fromKell and for now, he cannot bear it. His scalp is smooth, not a hairon his body, and Obron traces the skin. He had come to sea to drownhimself, and he is sated.

Thereis sex, under the stars, on the water, in the cabin. It is the besttime of Obron's life. Kell comes and goes, diving into the ocean andsurfacing hours later, caked with salt as his skin dries under thesun. Time becomes meaningless out on the ocean. Once a year, Obronfinds the strange port town and trades. Every time, he is gifted witha wedge of pineapple, and every time he gives his sincere thanks. Hedoes not want, for food, or shelter, or love. Kell provides and inreturn, he absorbs knowledge and caring from Obron.

It isthe tenth or perhaps twelfth year when Obron realizes he is notaging. Over a decade at sea, and he looks the same as the day he leftOregon. He stares at himself in the mirror, searching for a sign of anew wrinkle, a grey hair that was not there before, but he isunchanged. Kell distracts him with a basket of fat prawns, pulledfrom the depths, and they feast well that night.

Theport town does not change. The man is always there, with the wedge ofsweet fruit. The women are always ready to trade. Obron climbs aboardhis ship, forgetting what he gave the women. Next time he visits, heasks the name of the town. The women seem confused, before handingover the crate of lemons. He takes it, and walks away. And there isthe old man, his hand outstretched. Obron takes the fruit, his handtrembling. It is sweet as ever.

Kellis under him now, body arching up to meet Obron's stomach. He kissesKell, and it brings back a memory of the first time, a tender hand onhis cheek. Kell's legs are strong, and they hold Obron close. Theirvoices mix in the cabin, drowning out the storm outside. Kell's innereyelids close and he muffles his release into Obron's shoulder. Heloves him, he loves him. Fear keeps him awake that night, and heholds Kell a little tighter.

I must know. Anotherdecade has passed, and Obron is truly afraid now. He still has notaged. With little thought to his actions, he turns the boat north,and seeks the island. It takes weeks. There are maps, unused in histiny desk. Foolishly, he'd never marked where the island was. But hisboat finds it, a rocky little thing. There is the flat stone he fellasleep on, and a crow circling overhead. Something is on the stone,still and white.

Theskeleton of a man stares back at him. He looks back onto the boat,and sees Kell, shivering in one corner. Obron touches the bleachedbones, and the knowledge flows dully into his mind. But there isKell, there is the sea and there is love, eternal. Silent, he climbsback aboard, and lets the wind carry him away from the rocks. Kell isat ease once the island is out of sight. They cook together, bumpinghips and making quick apologies. And at night he falls asleep onKell's chest, listening to the distant hum of the engine. He came tosea to drown in peace.

Drownedmen do not return to land.