I am not very good at writing short stories, I prefer poetry, but anyway here is one of my attempts. It is a very short story, please dont be afraid to criticize. I need all the advice I can get, your comments are much appreciated 
She arrived at high tide, like all sea children should. She had no human fault to bind her to the Earth, she was adrift and free, but like driftwood is taken by the tide, she was also taken.
Her pale face was framed by ebony ringlets and her guileless blue eyes gazed innocently into her own private world. But her smile, it was her smile that captured me, that slow beautiful smile that could soothe a thousand troubled hearts.
She never spoke a single word while she lived in my world. She was happily lost in her own kingdom and I dont think anything could ever coax her out into the cruel outside world. No, she never spoke, but she did sing. That pure silver voice of innocence rendered her listeners spell bound and drew them to the outer borders of her own land. In her song I could hear the wildness of the sea in a tempest, or the calm during a crimson sunset. Her songs touched the veil between reality and the land of dreams, of the intangible.
It was these songs, I think, that caused them to fear her. People always fear what they cannot understand.
They used ugly, hard words to describe her. They said my sea child was retarded, she whose smile was pure innocence. They said my sea child was handicapped, she who lived in her own magical world which they could never have. They said my sea child was an idiot, she whose songs no one could explain. They were blind to what she really was: unique, perfect, a sea child.
They took her away at low tide, when the driftwood lay stranded on the shore. They took her away for her own good, so they might imprison the sea child, so they would no longer fear her, so she would never sing us into her world once more.
Everyday I sit and wait for high tide to come again and with it the hope that my sea child might be returned to me.
The Sea Child
The sea child wandered into my life about three years ago now, and it has been a month since they stole her away.
She arrived at high tide, like all sea children should. She had no human fault to bind her to the Earth, she was adrift and free, but like driftwood is taken by the tide, she was also taken.
Her pale face was framed by ebony ringlets and her guileless blue eyes gazed innocently into her own private world. But her smile, it was her smile that captured me, that slow beautiful smile that could soothe a thousand troubled hearts.
She never spoke a single word while she lived in my world. She was happily lost in her own kingdom and I dont think anything could ever coax her out into the cruel outside world. No, she never spoke, but she did sing. That pure silver voice of innocence rendered her listeners spell bound and drew them to the outer borders of her own land. In her song I could hear the wildness of the sea in a tempest, or the calm during a crimson sunset. Her songs touched the veil between reality and the land of dreams, of the intangible.
It was these songs, I think, that caused them to fear her. People always fear what they cannot understand.
They used ugly, hard words to describe her. They said my sea child was retarded, she whose smile was pure innocence. They said my sea child was handicapped, she who lived in her own magical world which they could never have. They said my sea child was an idiot, she whose songs no one could explain. They were blind to what she really was: unique, perfect, a sea child.
They took her away at low tide, when the driftwood lay stranded on the shore. They took her away for her own good, so they might imprison the sea child, so they would no longer fear her, so she would never sing us into her world once more.
Everyday I sit and wait for high tide to come again and with it the hope that my sea child might be returned to me.
