I’ve got a short story involving shark-like mermaids in the works. Lydia, the main character, suspects she is pregnant. Let’s take a closer look, shall we…?
The ultrasound technician applies jelly to my stomach region. The paddle comes down cold. I’m staring at the screen and to my shock, I see not one, not two but five. Five little heads, identifiable pairs of arms and hands. They’re white figures in a canvas of black.
They’re rolling, twisting in there. I feel another sharp stab of pain that hitches my breath. I double over, but my eyes are glued to the screen. Four are slamming into one. It looks like the one is screaming. A chunk of its arm goes missing. A mist of white flowers out.
The screen goes black and I hear a click. I grunt and cry out as the twisting, rolling cramps increase
“OK…. I’ll be right back.” The technician tells me. Her cheerful voice is in stark contrast to her face, now drained of color. “Nothing to worry about, just lay back and be comfortable. I’m getting a doctor.”
She leaves the room and I’m panting in sweat.
They’re eating each other. Oh god. I have to get out of here.
Donning my clothes as fast as I can, I grab my purse and keys and head out of the clinic with my head ducked. One of the receptionists calls after me, “ma’am?” But I don’t stop. I can’t stop.
There’s only one place for me to go.