When the sirens rang out I was still sea fishing with our cousins. I knew we wouldn't be back in time to do anything more than die as soon as our feet touched dry land. Such was the village curse and as such I knew I'd never see our kin again.
One cousin - and there is always a foolish one in every group - thought to test the curse to see if it still held true. He swam with the ease of a true coast-born and looked as healthy as he ever had until he took his first step onto the dry sand past the tide.
We'd all grown up with the tales that when the mountain stream ran red we had to crank up our sirens and head to the hidden attic in the town hall to hide until the sand ran red instead as the creatures finished their massacre at our shores.
We didn't expect to see our own cousin turn into one of the creatures. The stories of the curse never said where they came from, only that if sea-skin met dry land after the stream had begun to bleed then the town would die and be reborn to chase the bleeding for the rest of their days.
As his bones shattered and reformed we did what we thought was best.
We waited until the screaming had stopped coming from the town hall, until the doors had opened and all the newly-formed creatures had come out and seen our cousin, until they'd finished tearing him limb from limb.
We turned our harpoons against them all, dragging them out to us to drown, letting them go and heading for the next in a seemingly endless loop that made the sands far bloodier than even a legion of creatures could have.
We saved them.
Now we must save ourselves.
One cousin - and there is always a foolish one in every group - thought to test the curse to see if it still held true. He swam with the ease of a true coast-born and looked as healthy as he ever had until he took his first step onto the dry sand past the tide.
We'd all grown up with the tales that when the mountain stream ran red we had to crank up our sirens and head to the hidden attic in the town hall to hide until the sand ran red instead as the creatures finished their massacre at our shores.
We didn't expect to see our own cousin turn into one of the creatures. The stories of the curse never said where they came from, only that if sea-skin met dry land after the stream had begun to bleed then the town would die and be reborn to chase the bleeding for the rest of their days.
As his bones shattered and reformed we did what we thought was best.
We waited until the screaming had stopped coming from the town hall, until the doors had opened and all the newly-formed creatures had come out and seen our cousin, until they'd finished tearing him limb from limb.
We turned our harpoons against them all, dragging them out to us to drown, letting them go and heading for the next in a seemingly endless loop that made the sands far bloodier than even a legion of creatures could have.
We saved them.
Now we must save ourselves.
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