It was Carol’s idea to have sex in the sea. Under the moonlight with no one watching, or so we thought.
She was weightless in my arms, her bikini top undone, her bikini bottoms pushed to the side. Salty sexy skin, sweet moans, the waves rocking us to climax.
Some of my seed in Carol, some escaping, carried on dark undercurrents.
Not all things are born from a vagina.
Nine months later, the sea was full of them. Strange fish with human hands, human feet, my eyes.
I watched in horror as they took their first steps from the water.
Anne Wilkins is a sleep-deprived teacher in New Zealand who writes in her spare time. Her love of writing is fuelled by copious amounts of coffee, reading and hope. Her work can be found in Clarkesworld, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Apex Magazine, The Dark, Flash Fiction Online and elsewhere.
Website: annewilkinsauthor.com
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