The Blackpool Mermaid, By Claire Massey

I was born half in

half out of the water.

I feel the suck of the tides

and the pull of the air.

I keep a nice spot

at the end of the pier,

a blanket covering my

not-feet not-fins.

I let the kids have a peek,

for a penny or two I

can play in the arcades.

They try to catch their

reflections in my silver

scales, I tell them tales

of coral caves and

seaweed prisons.

I’m landglad; inhaling

vinegar mist from the

hot chips in greasy paper

on my lap, seagulls scrap

over candyfloss as the hurdy-

gurdy waltz of the organ on

the carousel is carried

with the dancing lights out

on to the waves. The fishermen

pay me no mind. Not like sixty

years ago when I was a fresh

catch. But the sea hasn’t forgotten,

her salt spray licks at my fingers,

at my not-feet not-fins. One

day she’ll fish me out

of this murky grey sky.

Claire Massey is a writer, poet and editor, as well as a true lover of fairy tales. She publishes New Fairy Tales, and the blog, The Fairy Tale Cupboard. You can learn about both by visiting the blog. Claire also wrote the fan-favorite "The Sleeping Beauty: a showman's tale," for Volume One of EC.