In a little wooden boat on the Baltic Sea, just off the coast of Sodermanland, there sat a lone fisherman. He had come at the setting of the sun and rowed out to the point at which he now was anchored and cast his net into the water.
And now he waited. His name was Mord Liutson and he was set upon catching some big fish tonight. There had been reports in the area of fishermen being pulled into the water from their boats at night and washing up on shore the following morning with all of their tender extremities nibbled away to nothing, leaving ragged wounds washed clean of blood and crawling with crustaceans. This was not a fate that Mord intended to share.
And so he sat under the clear moonlit sky with the calm salt sea waters caressing the sides of his little boat, waiting for his fish to come. As Mord waited he checked the other items that he had brought with him to aid in his hunt this night. He allowed a grim smile of satisfaction to split his grizzled, bearded features. Mord had long ago decided to dedicate his life to hunting and killing the things that preyed on men in the night. He had no village or clan to call his own. His was a nomadic life, traversing the Norse territories by land and by sea, on foot or occasionally even on horseback during those times he was fortunate enough to be in possession of a steed. In his lonely line of work, however, he rarely was able to keep a horse for long as they would often fall prey to those things that he hunted or else there had oft been occasions where he had been forced to slay the beast himself to eat its flesh lest starvation claim him. The thought of food made Mord’s stomach rumble like the thundering of Thor’s hammer and he reached into the sack at his side to pull out a strip of salted beef which he began to chew on absently as he continued his moonlit vigil.
In the quiet tranquillity that pervaded the night Mord heard a gentle splashing close to the boat and not far from where he had cast his net. It was markedly different enough from the sound that the calm waters had been making up to now that Mord sat up straight and set down his strip of beef, taking hold of the rope that was connected to his net in both of his big, powerful hands. He listened intently for the sound to come again. For several long minutes there was nothing, but the gentle lapping of the waves against the hull of the boat until finally Mord heard the ‘ploop’ of the water’s surface being broken again and this time he caught sight, in the moonlight, of the fluke of a fish’s tail flicker briefly into view before disappearing once more beneath the sea. From the size of it, Mord would wager that this fish was at least as big as a man, but if anyone could land it then it was he. Mord tugged hard on the rope with both hands. The net began to return to him as he dragged it through the water and back towards the boat, but he was disheartened to feel no tug, no resistance from within the net as he pulled it back in. He had not snagged his prize. Not this time. Mord would have to bring the net fully back in before casting it back out again.
When he finally dragged the net back onto the boat he was only slightly surprised to see that the mesh of woven hemp had been shredded completely by some unseen assailant. No doubt the owner of that tail possessed a cunning equal to his own. This only served to confirm what Mord had already suspected. Whatever was preying upon the fishermen in these waters was no mere fish.
Now that his net was out of commission Mord would need to resort to alternate means in order to catch his monster. This did not deter him, however, he had anticipated that this would be the case and had come prepared.
He was about to reach behind him for the implement which he sought when the creature put in an appearance. Mord paused and could not help, but gaze in wide eyed wonder at the thing of beauty that stared back at him from the ripples of the sea. The head and shoulders of a woman protruded from the water and Mord could not deny that she was one of the most beautiful examples of womanhood that he had ever been fortunate enough to lay eyes upon. Her wet hair clung about her face and shoulders like clumps of dirty green seaweed and the pallor of her glistening skin was tinged with a sapphire hue that seemed to sparkle in the moonlight. The eyes were big and round and black like oily pearls and the mouth was a harsh, lipless slit that was, at this moment, curved into a cruel and malevolent smile that also carried a hint of impudent arrogance and self-confidence. There was no nose to speak of on this nightmare beauty of a face, for of course the air was not her natural environment and the ragged slash of gills were prominent at either side of her long, slender neck. She was clearly naked from what Mord could see of her bare shoulders above the water and the gentle curve of the tops of her breasts.
“I can see that you desire me.” The sjojungfru spoke in a voice that sounded like the rasping echo of a forgotten song. “Come into the waters and I can be yours forever.”
Those words carried a weight of promise and hinted at pleasures that most men could only dream of.
Mord’s fingers encircled the implement in the boat behind him. He tightened his grip upon the sturdy shaft, never taking his eyes from the sjojungfru and then he launched the harpoon in one mighty swoop of his arm.
The mermaid’s oil black eyes widened in dull surprise as the sharp point pierced her chest, right between the breasts with which she had hoped to entice her hapless male prey. The barbed tip erupted from her back and transfixed her, dead in the waters as her blood rapidly clouded around her.
Mord took up the rope that was attached to the shaft of the harpoon and stood so that he could haul aboard his prize. He allowed himself a grim smile of triumph as he pulled the rope hand over hand and dragged the corpse of the sjojungfru towards him.
The smile quickly faded when two sets of hands reached into the boat from either side of him and grabbed his legs.
“Oh shit!” he cursed himself. He should have known there’d be more than one of them.
And then he overbalanced and went tumbling arse over heels into the ice-cold depths.
Mord thrashed his legs wildly as he sank beneath the water, he could just make out the glistening forms of two further naked sjojungfru as they held onto him with fingers that ended in claws like fish hooks and attempted to drag him down deeper. One of them looked up at him with that lovely nightmarish face and opened her mouth in a silent scream, revealing to him two rows of teeth that looked as though they belonged in the jaws of a shark rather than those of a woman. Mord tugged his foot free of her grasp and delivered a kick to those teeth and he was rewarded by a satisfying crunch that was audible even submerged as he was.
The other mermaid still had a hold of his other foot and instead of pulling away from her Mord actually moved in closer and grabbed her by the arms, then he pulled himself closer to her still and drove his forehead into her face. So surprised was she, the sjojungfru let go of his foot and propelled herself away from Mord, whipping him away from her with a thrash of her fishy tail.
Mord took the chance to kick his way back to the surface. As soon as his head broke the water he gasped the sweet night air into his lungs.
“Fuck me!” he exclaimed. “It’s fucking colder than Helheim in here!”
And then he was dragged back under.
Mord found himself face to face with the two sjojungfru again, but this time they both looked a little bloodied from their struggles with him. One was bleeding from the mouth with a couple of those ragged teeth clearly missing, whilst the other had a ruin of red where her not-nose used to be.
They were clawing at him with their fish hook fingers, trying to drag him down so that he would drown, but Mord had other ideas.
He wriggled free of them and bent over in the water, reaching into his boot to pull out the seax that he kept sheathed there. Mord succeeded in pulling the long knife free. He slashed outwards at the nearest mermaid and opened a red rent at the place where fish and woman met. With the amount of blood that was now in the water, Mord feared that sharks may soon make an unwanted appearance. He had to finish this and get back in the boat as quickly as possible.
He grabbed a handful of seaweed hair and tugged the other mermaid in close. It was the one he had butted earlier and he butted her again to render her senseless and lessen her struggles. He then took his seax blade to her neck and sawed it back and forth across the blue scaly flesh, adding a further torrent of crimson to the already clouded waters. The sjojungfru was dead before he had finished severing her head from her neck. By that time, however, the final mermaid had recovered sufficiently enough to renew its frenzied assault upon him and he was first aware of her presence when he felt her claws tear into the leather of his tunic at his back. His own blood now mingled with that of the mermaids.
Mord swung his fist around, still clutching the head of the other mermaid by the hair, and clobbered the last of the sjojungfru with a blow that sent her reeling backwards in a flurry of bubbles and blood. He followed through with the seax in his other hand, painfully aware that he was still submerged as he felt the last reserves of air leaving his lungs. The point of the weapon pierced the mermaid’s abdomen, just above the ugly slash that had been rent their previously and travelled on upwards into her heart. Mord twisted the blade before pulling it free and he watched the body of the sjojungfru sink away from him as its life fluid emptied into the cold sea.
Mord wasted no time in swimming upwards and climbing back onto his boat, dumping the head of the second mermaid onto the deck ahead of him. He lay there on his back for a while gasping in air.
Once he was suitably recovered Mord sat up and took up his oars to begin the row back to shore. On the way back he stopped to heave aboard the harpooned cadaver of the first mermaid he had slain. He would need to offer the fishermen some proof that it was now safe for them once more to fish these waters at night as he had just done.
The End
[bctt tweet=”OCTOBER TERROR 2018 Short Story Award – Entry #35 ‘The Lone Fisherman’ By Mark Leney – Enjoy all this terrific, disturbing material you have in your hands, lots of horror stories at your disposal for your dark delight and vote!” username=”theboldmom”]
On October 23rd we’ll close submissions and open a poll for the readers to choose their favourite one! You’ll have a week to make your choice and on October 31st we’ll announce the winner!!!
