At the edge of the world, where the horizon kissed the sea, there sat a mermaid named Lira on a weathered wooden dock. The first light of dawn painted the sky in hues of peach and gold, casting a warm glow over her shimmering teal tail and long, flowing green hair. In her hand, she held a glass of breakfast stout, a dark, frothy brew she’d grown fond of after years of befriending sailors who shared their tales—and their drinks—with her.
Lira wasn’t like other mermaids. While her sisters preferred the depths of the ocean, singing haunting melodies to lure ships astray, Lira craved the stories of the surface world. She’d discovered this dock years ago, a quiet spot where she could watch the sunrise and listen to the whispers of the waking world. The stout in her hand was a gift from an old fisherman named Tobin, who’d found her one morning tangled in his nets. Instead of fear, Tobin had offered her kindness, and over time, they became unlikely friends.
Every few weeks, Tobin would meet her at sunrise, bringing her a bottle of his favorite breakfast stout—a rich, coffee-infused beer that he swore was the best way to start the day. Lira loved the bitter warmth of the drink, a stark contrast to the salty tang of the sea. In return, she’d share stories of the ocean’s wonders: coral cities that glowed under moonlight, ancient shipwrecks guarded by spectral crews, and the songs of whales that echoed for miles.
On this particular morning, Tobin had told her he’d be late—something about a storm-damaged boat needing repairs. So Lira sat alone, sipping her stout and watching the sun rise. The sky was a canvas of soft colors, and the water below mirrored its beauty, shimmering with flecks of golden light. She dipped her tail lazily in the waves, letting the cool water soothe her scales.
As she drank, Lira thought about the world beyond the dock. Tobin had spoken of bustling markets, towering mountains, and forests that stretched endlessly under the stars. She longed to see it all, but her tail bound her to the sea. Still, moments like this—sitting on the dock with a stout in hand, the sunrise warming her face—felt like a bridge between her world and the one she could only dream of.
A gull cried overhead, pulling her from her thoughts. Lira smiled, raising her glass to the rising sun. “To new stories,” she whispered, her voice a melody that blended with the waves. She took another sip, savoring the bitter brew, and waited for Tobin to arrive, eager to hear what new tale he’d bring with the dawn.