Hey everyone, I apologize for not updating sooner. I had some writer's block with this story, but with the lack of school work last night, I found sudden inspiration for another chapter. I promise not to give up on this story for I really think that with some work it could end up being totally worth it. With that said, thanks to everyone reading and if you feel up to reviewing, hey I'm not going to complain! :)

Thanks to previous reviewers: eternita, Ray-Anne, and Chris Rhyanne

The Little Mermaid

The next morning, Chelsea woke up on the late side of the clock again. Angela had already gone by the time she opened her eyes and rolled over to say good morning. She wasn’t surprised, Angela had made it clear she didn’t like the shelter, but Chelsea wished that she could have woken up and left with her so that she wouldn’t be inclined to rush down to the beach.

Chelsea made each movement to get out of bed and pack up her belongings deliberately slow, wanting to sprint down to the beach and see if Chance was there yet and at the same time wishing that something would happen that would prevent her from going. After only one meeting, Chelsea couldn’t understand the impulsive feeling that demanded that she go see him again. Sure, he had saved her life, but it didn’t explain the rush of heat she felt when she thought about him.

Swinging her bag onto her shoulder, Chelsea made a quick stop in the kitchen where bowls held an unappetizing portion of cold, lumpy oatmeal that sat uncomfortably in her stomach when she was finished. With a wave to Linda at the front desk, Chelsea stepped out into the street, glad that the sun was alone in the sky.

When she passed the bakery from yesterday morning, she stopped and peered through the window, wondering if it was a daily stop for Chance or if he had just happened to stop there yesterday. But with a glance around the little shop, Chelsea knew he wasn’t in there and began walking again, studying the beach as she meandered down the sidewalk.

Across the street, the ocean growled quietly at the few people daring enough to brave the cold morning waves. In the distance, a little sailboat bobbed sat like a toy on the dark blue water and closer to the shore, a little to the right, the waves were interrupted by a pile of rocks. Foam swirled around the heap where seagulls sunned themselves, and as Chelsea looked closer she could have sworn someone was sitting among them.

It wasn’t a strange sight; people lay on the rocks all the time. However, the person or whatever it was was oddly shaped. The torso was the well defined shape of a human, but for some weird reason, their legs looked to long for their body and without any curves to them that indicated calf or thigh muscles. It might have just been the way they were sitting, but Chelsea felt the hair on the back of neck raise looking at the person. It was how she felt whenever she thought of water.

She felt an odd compulsion to go and see what it really was, if it was just her imagination or a trick of the ocean spray. But that would mean getting within reach of the water and her survival instinct immediately shied away from that idea. Anyhow, it turned out not to matter as the next wave washed over the rocks and the figure disappeared. Chelsea settled her mind on the fact it was probably only a pile of seaweed and continued on down the road.

Without meaning too, Chelsea found herself outside the town’s library. She didn’t have a card which prevented her from taking books out, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to go in and take a look around.

Chelsea normally avoided the library even though she loved reading what her education allowed her to understand. The place was filled with sad, bittersweet memories that she relived every time she stepped foot in there.

Back when she was a kid, when her family got along and it seemed like nothing would change that, one of Chelsea’s favorite things was going to the town library and having one of parents read dozens of books to her through the afternoon.

They would hold her hand and take her through the doors, telling her how the books would transport her to a new world with new friends she could revisit anytime she wanted to. Her hand would be released so she could speed through the shelves pulling off books at random before returning to her mom or dad and dumping the load on their lap so she could climb up next to them. All she had to do was open the cover and her mom or dad’s voice would magically transform meaningless sentences into tales of adventure whose pictures would paint her dreams later as she lay asleep at night.

Even when her parents started fighting, and when they started moving around, her mom would always make an effort to take her little girl to library and allow her to escape the up-ended life she now had to endure.

As Chelsea pushed her way through the interior revolving doors that led to the pre-teen section, Chelsea’s favorite memory of the library surfaced. Ironically, it was the last time she had come to a library with her mom, but it filled her with a strange sense of peace whenever she thought of it.

It had been a couple months before her mom had died; a dark stormy day in June that had had Chelsea scared nearly to death as thunder and lightning tore apart the sky and rain lashed like liquid whips. Her mom, in an effort to comfort her, ran with Chelsea into the library, shielding her as best she could. They had arrived frozen and out of breath, but the thought of hearing her mother’s voice spin fairy tales out of thin air had instantly relieved Chelsea.

For the first time, Chelsea didn’t pick out a pile of books that made her arms ache and her mom groan, but the one mom had given to her the past Christmas, one she hadn’t yet been able to hear. It was “The Little Mermaid.”

Her mom smiled when she saw Chelsea’s little hands grasped around the book and took it gently into her hands, beckoning Chelsea over to the couch reserved for readers. Contently, Chelsea and her mom curled up together and her mom started her last story.

The tale of the little mermaid who fell in love with a Prince who lived on land and sold her voice to the Witch of the Sea so she could walk with him had stuck with Chelsea long after her mom’s voice had trailed off with the last words. And after her mom had passed away, Chelsea continually turned back to the story to reassure herself that her mom would always be with her.

Now, as Chelsea made her way over to the reading section, she reached unconsciously into her bag and pulled out the book to gently caress the torn, faded cover, and turn the warped pages that slid through her fingers with a sense of familiarity. She skimmed the words without really reading them, hearing her memory re-create her mother’s voice and feeling the ghosts of past tears prick her eyes. She sniffed.

With a half-hearted wrist flick, Chelsea turned to where she had left off yesterday afternoon. Picking up where she had left off, Chelsea became emerged in the underwater world, the closest she would ever get to it. She shuddered as she reached the part where the Prince’s boat sank into the brewing waters and he struggled to remain conscious when his air supply ran out; her heart racing as his mind went black and the mermaid came to his rescue against her father’s orders.

Chelsea reached one of her favorite parts of the entire story, when the little mermaid sat with her Prince on the beach, singing to him in her lovely voice and coaxing him back to consciousness. The Prince woke up to his supposed dream of the beautiful girl singing to him, groaning as he moved and rubbing the sand and water from his eyes. Sitting up, he looked for his rescuer only to find himself alone with the waves lapping at his ankles and glancing up at a faint splash out in the water as the mermaid left him, leaving him with a faded picture of her face and a longing in his heart to find her again.

Chelsea closed the book with a sigh and tucked it away, smiling to herself at the lingering memory of the story and her mom. For some reason or another, the book reminded her of Chance, or at least the Prince’s character did. Speaking of Chance, Chelsea glanced at the clock which told it was half past one. She wondered if Chance was at the beach looking for her.

Deciding she had waited long enough, Chelsea got to her feet and left the library, determinedly setting a path for the sand. She took her shoes off once she hit the beach so she could feel the pleasant warmth of the grains between her toes and began scanning the shore for a sign of Chance.

There weren’t that many people around today though it was warm and breezy, but after ten minutes of walking and searching, Chelsea still couldn’t find him. She tried not to be too disappointed as she continued her search. After all, he hadn’t agreed to see her today, he just said he wanted to see her again and she had been too nervous and frightened to say anything about when. And even if he was here today, it was a huge beach and again nothing had been said about where.

Good job, Chelsea thought to herself. You’ll probably never see him again because you were too much of a wimp to discuss details for two seconds.

Scuffing her way up the beach without much purpose anymore, Chelsea found herself just a little way off from the rocks she had seen this morning. The rocks where the strange figure had been. Now that she looked at them again, she saw something else perched upon them, but this time it was clearly human. As she drew nearer, there was something familiar about the figure and the blond hair that shone in the sunlight. Chelsea smiled and felt her heart thump excitedly.

Chance appeared to be looking thoughtfully out at the waves, twirling something in his hands. Chelsea wondered if she should walk up to him and announce her arrival, but the rocks were still dangerously close to the water and the crashing of the waves against them was too loud for her to yell over. Trying to figure out what to do, Chelsea continued to inch closer to the rocks, as though magnetic force suddenly applied to her.

But then, Chance turned around and caught sight of her. She waved timidly, her lips lifting up in a smile. He smiled broadly as though she was the only thing in the world that mattered and got to his feet to jump gracefully off the boulders. Still grinning, he jogged up to her. For a moment, nothing passed between them, but instead of being awkward, a pleasant silence held the place.

Chance was the first to speak.

“Hey, I’m really glad you came” he said, as though they had somehow agreed to meet here exactly at this time. For some reason, Chelsea felt as though they had. “This, is for you.”

Chance placed the object in his hand into Chelsea’s palm and she looked down to see the most beautiful shell she had ever seen. Pearly white and twisted like soft-served ice cream with the sunset held inside it, Chelsea’s hands trembled just holding it. Her fingers cradled it softly; afraid it would shatter at the slightest wrong movement. She glanced up to be caught in his gorgeous blue eyes.

“Would you like to take a walk up the beach?” he asked.

Without one pause of thought Chelsea replied, “I’d love too.”