WATER(2)
716 Words
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Miranda stood under the warm shower, steam curling around her as the spray beat gently against her shoulders. She hummed under her breath, running her hands down her arms, then over her legs, just enjoying the heat soaking into her muscles.
Then, it started.
A strange tingling at her ankles. At first, it felt like pins and needles, the kind you get when your foot falls asleep. But instead of fading, it spread upward, sharper, hotter, until her calves felt like they were on fire.
She gasped, bracing herself against the tiled wall. “What?”
The heat coiled tighter, squeezing around her legs as if invisible bands were pulling them together. She stumbled, nearly losing her footing on the slick floor.
When she looked down, her breath caught in her throat.
Her skin shimmered. Not sweat. Not water. But something else, a silvery-blue sheen rippling under the shower stream, glinting like scales.
Miranda’s chest seized. Her feet… they weren’t...
She blinked hard, backing to the wall. For a split second, her toes blurred, edges glowing faintly, melting into something smooth, something joined.
Her knees buckled. She nearly slipped but caught herself against the soap rack, her heart slamming like a drum in her ears.
“No, no, no, no…” Her voice cracked, panicked, as her eyes darted down again.
Normal. Just skin. Just her feet.
Nothing strange.
Water pooled around her toes as if mocking her.
Miranda pressed both hands to her face, sucking in a shaky breath. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or scream.
“Okay… okay. Not real. Just… stress. I need sleep.”
But when she shut her eyes, the image burned behind her eyelids, silvery scales glittering where her legs should be.
She shut the water off, grabbed a towel, and sank onto the edge of her bed still dripping, a pulse hammering in her throat. No matter how much she tried to steady her breathing, one thought wouldn’t leave her.
She had seen it.
Even if it was only for a second.
_________
Clara’s eyes fluttered open.
The ceiling swam into focus, and a sharp ache throbbed at the back of her head.
Then, like a lightning bolt, the memory of the golden tail struck her.
Her body jerked upright, sheets tangling in her fists. Her chest rose and fell in sharp bursts, eyes darting down.
Feet.
Just… feet.
“No, no, no—my feet—” she whispered, her voice shaking.
Beside her, Mrs. White nearly dropped the phone she had been clutching. She had just ended a tense call with her husband, her nerves frayed to the edge. She rushed to the bed.
“Clara! Oh, sweetheart...”
But Clara wasn’t looking at her. She was staring, wide-eyed, at her own legs.
“My feet,” she murmured, as if repeating it could make them stay.
Mrs. White’s panic spiked. She dropped to her knees at the bedside, gripping Clara’s hands.
“What is it? What’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself in the tub?” Her voice trembled, sharper than she meant. “Talk to me, Clara!”
But Clara only whispered again, hoarse and broken:
“My feet…”
Mrs. White swallowed hard, brushing damp strands of hair from her daughter’s forehead not to check for fever, but because her own hands wouldn’t stop shaking. For now, all she could do was hold Clara and pray. This was just a shock.
_______
Meanwhile, at the school gate, Annabelle and Anastasia stood side by side, watching as their father’s car sped away without the usual wave or goodbye.
“That was weird,” Anastasia muttered.
Annabelle’s eyes narrowed, following the car until it vanished around the corner. “He looked… worried.”
“You think it was the phone call?”
“Of course it was.” Annabelle crossed her arms, her tone sharp but curious. “And did you hear Mom’s voice before he drove off? She said Clara’s name.”
Anastasia frowned. “So? Clara’s always acting strange. Remember when she came home late from swim school and wouldn’t even explain why?”
Annabelle’s gaze lingered on the empty street, her expression unusually thoughtful. “Yeah. I don’t know what’s going on with her… but something’s not normal.”
- Writer
