September 2024 Contest Winner: "Clio"

Clio was amphibious, as comfortable walking on land as she was gliding beneath the waves. On the occasions when she decided to emerge from the sea, Clio would transform her tail into human legs in the shallows and wade ashore.

She enjoyed running through the sun-warmed sand of secluded beaches, loving the way the fine grit got between her little toes and the way wind played through her long hair.

One day Clio swam into the shallows of a small bay where a young boy was kneeling at the shoreline, digging through the coarse sand. Intrigued, she swam closer, staying below the surface of the sparkling azure water. When she had ventured as close as she dared, she slowly raised her head until her eyes were above the waterline. Her long hair spread across the surface like dark weeds.

The boy, intent on his digging, did not notice her...or at least he gave no indication that he'd noticed her until he spoke.

"I can see you," he declared in Greek, still sifting through the wet sand.

Clio had doubts that he was even talking to her, for he hadn't even looked in her direction. So, instead of sinking back below the surface, she remained still.

The boy smiled. "I won't hurt you," he promised before glancing at her. He scooped up a handful of fresh sand and began sifting through it in the shallow water.

"My name is Zeno," he said in a friendly tone. "What's yours?" When she didn't respond, the boy shrugged his shoulders and returned to his task.

Clio moved her eyes left and right, scanning the shoreline for other humans. Confident that they were alone, she raised her head until her mouth was above the surface.

"My name is Clio," she responded belatedly. "What are you looking for?"

The boy pushed himself up to his knees and reached into a pocket sewn into his tunic.

Clio prepared to flee, concerned that the boy might draw a weapon. She moved away from the shore but kept her eyes trained on him.

Zeno held up a small shiny object between his thumb and index finger. "More of these," he said.

He frowned, noticing how she had retreated, then sighted and stood up, brushing wet sand off his knees before turning his back to her and trotting a short distance to a large flat rick. He sat down on it, pulling a handful of small objects from his pocket and placing them beside him on the rock.

The boy began sorting the objects into piles.

Clio sat beside him on the rock. "Show me what you have."

Zeno smiled, scooping up the objects excitedly. "Give me your hand," he said, turning to face her.

She was completely naked.

He placed the objects in her upturned palm, either unaware or unconcerned that the sea-lady was not wearing any clothes.

She looked at the collection of small shells, spreading them out with her index finger. Most were dull and unimpressive, bleached white from years of sun and spray. But there was one that possessed a lustrous sheen, reflecting shades of purple, blue, green and pink on its mother-of-pearl surface.

Clio plucked the treasure from the detritus and held it out to the boy. "It's very pretty, isn't it?"

Zeno nodded, his mouth hanging open. There was a faraway look in his dark green eyes.

Clio moved the iridescent shell to the side, but his eyes stayed trained on her. She smiled at him.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" she asked.

Zeno closed his mouth and swallowed. He nodded.

Clio moved the iridescent shell so that it obstructed the boy's view of her.

"Are you looking for more shells like this one?" she asked.

"Yes," Zeno replied, reaching out and reclaiming his treasure. "Can you help me look?"

Clio stood up. She handed the sun-bleached shells back to him. "Not right now."

Zeno frowned and lowered his head.

"But if I find any," she added, "I will bring them here for you."

The boy lifted his eyes excitedly. "That would be great. I live nearby," he said, pointing inland to the treeline.

"Come," he said, taking her by the hand. "I can show you where I live."

Clio didn't move when the boy tugged on her arm to follow him. Instead, she knelt down in the sand, taking his small hand between hers.

"I cannot go with you," she explained, "for I belong to the sea."

Zeno bit his lip. "Then how shall I find the shells you bring for me?"

Clio considered the question, then nodded, standing up. Still holding his hand, she led him back to the large flat rock.

"Here," she explained, pointing to a spot where the edge of the rock curved inward, creating a natural pocket. She let go of his hand and squatted down, then removed a handful of sand from the pocket. She scanned the beach and picked up a nearby pebble.

Clio placed the pebble in the hole, then covered it with sand.

The boy nodded and smiled. "I need to go home now, but I'll come back later to check for treasure."

"Bye, Clio," he said before turning and running up the beach.

Clio watched the boy disappear into the trees before returning to the sea.

For a time, Clio forgot all about her encounter with the boy. But one day, while she sat in the surf, she spotted something shiny in the shallows. It was a small shell, much like the one the young boy had shown her.

How long has it been? she thought. She was unsure. The passage of time meant nothing to her kind, the Nereid.

Clio had some difficulty finding the place where she had met the boy, but she located it eventually.

When she dug in the sand beside the large flat rock, she was surprised to find a small wooden box. Inside, there was a piece of papyrus, rolled up tightly and bound with string. Curious, she untied the string and unrolled the papyrus. It was a short note, written in Greek.

Clio,

If you find any shells, you can put them in this box.

Zeno

Clio placed the shell in the box and burried it again.

Time passed. Clio thought little of the box buried in the sand beside the large flat rock or of iridescent shells or of the boy named Zeno.

But one day she spotted a woman walking along the shoreline with a young boy. They were holding hands.

The boy reminded her of Zeno, so Clio decided to return to the place where Zeno lived.

She didn't want to go there empty-handed, so for several days clio scoured the shallows of sandy beaches all along the eastern coastline of the Aegean Sea, from Rhodes all the way north to Troy. She collected a bounty of lustrous shells, all around the same size and all glistening with mother-of-pearl.

She swam across the sea to where the boy lived, then transformed her tail into human legs and emerged from the surf near the large flat rock.

With a strange sense of anticipation that she hadn't expected to feel, Clio dug in the sand until she found the wooden box. The box had aged, but it was still intact. Inside, she discovered a new parchment, this one wrapped in leather.

Clio,

I was so pleased to discover that you had finally returned to our rock and left me a beautiful shell. I think of you often. I do hope that it will not be so long until you come back to visit me again.

Yours,

Zeno

Clio placed the handful of shells in the box. There were more than thirty in all.

She burried the box in its proper place before returning to the sea.

I hope he will be pleased with all the treasure I brought him, she thought.

Clio left the Aegean and explored the Ionian Sea and part of the Adriatic before going along the coast of Sicilia and crossing to Carthage. She moved east to Cyrene and Alexandria, then to Tyre and Tarsus before heading back west to Cyprus and Crete.

Having returned to the Aegean Sea, Clio decided to pay Zeno another visit.

Belatedly, she found a single shell to add to Zeno's collection, then came ashore.

The place had changed. There were now several homes visible at the treeline.

Clio cautiously made her way to the large flat rock and dug down until she struck metal. Zeno's wooden box had been replaced with a slightly smaller metal one. It had a clasp hook that could be spun to lock the lid in place.

When she opened the lid, she discovered two leather-bound objects. One was undoubtedly a note, but the other was more intriguing, so Clio opened it first.

It was a beautiful bracelet, made with the shells she had collected and left last visit. Great care had been taken to smooth all the rough edges out. The shells were arranged in such a way that they fit together, forming a shining ring that scintillated in the sunlight.

Clio put the bracelet on her wrist. It fit perfectly.

Next, she unrolled the note.

Dearest Clio,

You cannot begin to imagine the joy I felt when I discovered the incredible bounty of treasure you left for me. I knew right then that I just had to give something back to you, so I crafted a bracelet for you from the shells. I can only hope that you not find it so plain compared to your radiant beauty.

I still remember your face after all these years. I do wish that I could see you again, but I am old now. I fear that this will be my last visit to our rock.

I named my daughter Cleo...after you, and when she was growing up, I brought her here, told her all about our chance meeting and showed her where I hid our treasure box.

When Cleo had a son, she named him Zeno, an honour for which I am entirely unworthy but so very grateful.

Perhaps you will someday return here when my daughter brings my grandson to sit on our rock and watch the waves play upon the sea, as I did many, many times during my long life.

I shall never forget your kindness and beauty, Clio.

Always,

Zeno

Clio felt an overpowering desire to see him again and to thank him for the beautiful gift, but she somehow knew that she was already too late for that.

Time had been a thief and had stolen Zeno from her.

Perhaps, she thought, slipping sadly back into the sea, if she returned to this place often enough, she might someday meet her namesake, Cleo, or her son, Zeno, who was named after the boy who had made the bracelet she now cherished.

From the Author

In my writing, regardless of genre, I explore the emotive.  Engaging readers with an interesting, well-written story is important, but my purpose goes beyond that.  When I write, I seek to captivate readers so they become immersed in the story and invest themselves emotionally in the characters and their circumstances.  Evoking human emotion through storytelling is what separates great writers from good writers, in my opinion.  That is where the magic resides.

-- John Grim

Discover more of John Grim's work on Booksie.