Mermaids in the rain

The mermaids have left. Maybe the rain will bring them back, or maybe we need better snacks. Then again, I’m cautious about what they consider good eating.

It’s time I thought more about creatures of the deep, or even denizens of the shallows. The rain pounded on the skylight this morning in an all-too-brief reprieve from the drought. In years past, I’ve considered the Pacific Northwest summers too wet and dreary, but these days I take the sun for granted. It’s the drooping garden that reminds me the elements need balance, and that water needs our full attention.

It’s the element that embodies birth, dreams, and emotion. Creativity. Mystery. Drama. I don’t write about it as much as I could, although it has made a splash here and there (pun intended).

Nimueh, the Lady of the Lake in Enchanted Guardian is a water fae and a perfect symbol of the element.  She has lost her capacity for emotion and to heal, she returns to her lake and is reborn anew—amid big feelings, high-stakes romance, jealousy, redemption, and drama. There is nothing small or quiet about water elementals.

After all, what is adventure without the high seas? In the Corsair’s Cove series, pirate Daniel Blackthorne faces a ticking clock—either he plays cupid or dies a final death. And in Shatter, there is Captain Maxwell Stokes of the ghost ship Solitude, locked in an inexorable struggle with the Sea King. This is another tale of rebirth and transformation in the most fundamental sense. And sea monsters. And hot dudes with tridents. And fish and chips.

But the Dark Forgotten series—in all its citified glory—is bereft of watery creatures. They can’t skulk about on street corners like a vampire or even a wolf. The backyard swimming pool is too small for a kraken, and selkies require at least a beach, preferably with unsuspecting sailors to torment.

Yet, the urban landscape should be big enough for all the elements, including the cauldron of creativity, rebirth, and dreams.  Maybe it just takes a little more work, a little digging to hit the wellspring of the unconscious that feeds all that feeling. Maybe we just need to listen more closely to hear the mermaids singing over the downtown traffic.

Perhaps I can hear them after all, in the sound of the rain.