I knew my brother was right to say it was unsafe and foolish to go out on the rocks alone. But I was going all the same, regardless. Even in a rainstorm.


He said I was mad.


And I was beginning to agree as the rain poured down, soaking right through to my bones. Maybe I was mad, but I had to know. The stories I’d heard last night had sparked an interest that I could hardly subdue.


It was low tide and even still, I could feel the spray upon my limbs and face as I scrambeled, barefooted over the rough surfaces. Thousands of years ago, I knew there had been many more volcanoes than there was today, that one of those very volcanoes had erupted, and it’s lava had eventually dried to form these rocks. There were hundreds little pools, all filled with seaweed and little saltwater fish. And all so many aeons old. I was looking for a particular one.


Yep, I was definitely mad. The rain was making it harder and harder to grip with just my feet. Three falls and 2 and a half grazed knees later had me on my hands and feet, knees cutting painfully into the cracks of stone.


It was when I was just thinking of turning back, of giving up, when I saw it. A largish pool. Easily the length of my arm deep and twice as wide. It contained a figure so bright I had to nearly squint to see it.


‘On a rainy day upon the rocks of Mirah Beach you will see its namesake. Her hair of bright, bright blues and and greens. Her clothes a patchwork of sea colours. You’ll find she glows with blinding light. This is Aqua Mirah.’ The stories were true!


I moved closer and as I peered I saw her lift her hand. And smile.


I was mad to come out here in a rainstorm, but AquaMirah was supposedly madder still. I had my doubts on that, her expression looked entirely sane...

This is like my second (digital) drawing I can call art. Now, I did start and finish this before I made the skin, so a few details are different, but I like it all the same