When Jiru woke up just before 3 a.m., she expected to ease back into sleep. Then she spied her from the window, head bobbing on the water, shoulders shimmering in a minor chord of blue moonlight.
A coy glance from the mysterious beauty enticed Jiru to wade into the deep. Her eyes shut as their wet lips touched. Salty. Cold. Jiru’s hands scaled the other’s body, concealed beneath gentle waves. Like touching fish. Her arms, Jiru thought to herself––she has no arms!
By the time she saw the tail, the ningyo had taken Jiru’s soul.
The water devoured what remained.
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alt="88 Miles Per Hour aka The 5 Ps of Time Travel by Timmy le Frog"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="The Void Between Two Heartbeats by M. Tensor"
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>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Logistics of the Damned by Diana Parrilla"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Heartwood by R.J. Cannon"
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loading="lazy"
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>