The Rose-girl

Someone pushed her from the boat, the sudden plunge into icy blackness muting their laughter.

She floundered in the cold and dark, the surface an ever more distant gleam of gold. She kicked hard, but it grew no nearer.

Fear gripped her. Then: a girl with dark skin that glittered pink at the edges. Tentacles swirled around her — from her hair, like rosy locks, around her legs like a trailing skirt.

She took the hands of the drowning girl.

–It’ll be okay–

The words were a whisper, mind to mind. Her smile bared sharp teeth, but kindly.

They stared at each other, one human and one other. The rose-girl’s tentacles wrapped around the human, gentle and oddly warm. Smoother than skin.

The rose-girl leaned forward and kissed her. Her lungs filled, but more shocking was the silken feel of the rose-girl’s lips.

She broke the surface to cries for help, but she was tempted to return below if the rose-girl still waited.

Another microfiction for Mastodon. Image by bearinthenorth / Anastasia Borisova, used under Pixabay License.

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