Walking on the beach, feeling the salty wind on my face, I look at the waves kissing the pads of my feet. Serene, that's how I feel at the moment.

Raised in an orphanage separated by an ocean from this enchanting calm place, I had decided to take a trip to this village to get in touch with 'my roots', so to speak, as soon as I had saved enough.

The color of my skin had always made me stand out among others. Though not a bad thing, I guess that was one of the reasons I was never adopted. All for the best, I guess, as the man in charge of the place, was kind and had a big heart. And when he had seen how keen to learn I was, he had left no stone unturned to bring out the best in me. And as the years had rolled by, I had left the orphanage and made a name for myself.

When I was about seven, I had gotten into a fight with a particularly rude boy because he was making fun of my color. He had ridiculed and insulted me just because I didn't look like others. It made me different, somehow.

The thought of being different had not sat well with me, and I had gotten into a fistfight with him. It had taken two grown men and a panicking cook to pull us apart.

Ashamed of my behavior, I had admitted my part, fully expecting our 'Father' to punish me. I was after all the one who had thrown the first punch.

But to my surprise, I was let go with a warning, but my opponent had to forgo his next meal.

'I will not tolerate any discrimination based on race, religion, color of skin, or anything that dares to pull you apart," Father had announced to all his children after taking care of the matter. Then, after everyone had left, I had gingerly walked to his office and asked him, "Father, why do I look different?"

"All God's children are the same, Jacob." He had said with a warm smile on his lips, and then gesturing me to take a seat next to him, he had opened his 'Document Drawer' to reveal a thin file. Opening it and sighing, he had looked at me and added, "But if you still want to know why you look the way you do, then it is because your mother hails from a place far away from here." He had explained, passing a faded photo of a man and a woman holding an infant in their arms.

"That's your momma and dada." He had said, pointing at the smiling couple, and pressed on, "And that my dear boy, is you."

I had carefully taken the offered picture and looked at it carefully, "I look like my momma." I had whispered proudly.

"Indeed, my child." He had agreed.

"The place where my momma came from, do people look like me?" I had asked, and he had nodded, "You bet. And one day, you can visit your momma's hometown. But for that, my child, you will have to work very hard. Are you ready to do that?" He had questioned, and I had nodded vigorously. Of course, his words had encouraged and motivated me and to an extent, they were responsible for me achieving what I have over the years.

"Jacob, wait for me." My wife Miranda calls, and I look over my shoulder and yell, "Catch me if you can! " And sprint off.

I can't believe I was married. It was a whirlwind affair. I had barely known her for two days when I had proposed to her and she had readily agreed, but had put two conditions.

"Jacob, both of us are orphans, I don't want an official ceremony. There is a place which is special to me, let us take our vows there. And I can't leave this place. If you want to be with me, you need to stay here too." She had requested.

There was nothing for me back home, so I had agreed, and we had taken our vows just a few minutes ago in a tiny shelter next to the sea.

All of it had felt magical, to be honest. But we were happy and that's all that was important to us.

The first time I had seen her two days ago. She was standing next to a cottage under construction at the fag end of the market place. I had just arrived at my mother's village and had visited the place that was mentioned behind the faded photograph that my orphanage mentor had given me years ago.

Her red heels had gotten stuck in a chipped pavement, and she was struggling to free herself. Unable to stop myself, I had offered to help her. She had looked up, and our eyes had met. Almost immediately, I had known that she was 'the one'.

It was destiny.

What was curious about the whole thing though, was that no one other than me had offered to help her. Not only that, when I had helped her, but I had gotten strange looks from the people around us.

I had ignored it.

"Caught you." Miranda exhales deeply next to my ears, not only catching up with me, but wrapping her hands around my middle as well.

"Indeed." I say, my tone impressed, "You must have had a lot of practice." I add, and she chuckles, catching my eyes, "I am good at trapping people."

"How so?"

"I caught you, didn't I?" She answers, wiggling her brows.

The sun begins to disappear behind the horizon, but not before bathing the sky in red. I look at my wife and find the colors of the sky reflected in her eyes and on her skin.

She is practically glowing.

"Come husband." She whispers walking towards the shelter where we had taken our vows not too long ago, and my feet move of their own accord.

Completely Devoted.

My mind fills with images of us in throws of passion, and my breaths become labored.

All I want is her.

"Miranda... " I call catching her hand, and she turns, "Hum?"

"I can't wait for us to be together."

"Soon, husband. Soon, nothing will stop me from taking you." She replies confidently, squeezing my hand before continuing to walk to our destination.

On arriving outside the shelter, it looks nothing like the place we had left behind barely an hour or so ago. It's huge and looks like what I have always imagined Atlantis to look like. Bright and blue.

It's perfect. It's beautiful.

I feel like I am missing something, but maybe it's not important. Nothing except for me being with Miranda is important. Nothing else matters.
We pass large pillars with intricate designs carved into them. The design looks like plated ropes with pointy ends, and something tells me that I should look closer, but just then, Miranda calls me, "Jacob, look at me. Only, at me,"  And the wayward though leaves me like it was never there.

I nod and continue following her. I start to hear faint voices. Low, muffled, and restrained, and I feel like I should pay heed to them. I almost turn to look, but I hear Miranda chuckle. It's melodious. Like the calm, yet exciting call of the sea.

Why did I want to look back?

After all, nothing is as enchanting as the way Miranda's hips are swaying from side to side, demanding my full attention.

There are neither flames nor any source of light around us, yet our path is lit. Just like the sky at twilight.
My mind goes hazy, like I am in a dream. But I know it's real. Miranda is real, and she is mine.

"You got it wrong, dear husband." Miranda chirps happily and looks over her shoulder, "It's not me who is yours. It's you, who belongs to me."

I nod. "As long as we are together, I don't care," I reply, and she laughs again. "I like you. You were easy." She adds.

I feel like she has said something I should object to, but I must have thought wrong. For, how could I ever object to anything that this beautiful woman could say?

She guides me to the innermost chamber and pushes me on the bed before straddling me.

"Husband... " She hisses and wets her lips with her forked tongue, before leaning in.

My mind nudges me to investigate this, but I push the thought down. How can I think about such inconsequential things when Miranda is so close. So much closer than just seconds ago.

She looks up, and our eyes meet. But the once dark black orbs are now red. Like she had borrowed the color of the sky and homed them in her eyes.

Beautiful.

I cup her face as she starts unbuttoning my shirt. "Let me look at you." She urges, pushing my shirt off my shoulders and bends down to lick my throat. "The sea tastes amazing. I don't think I can bear to share you with my sisters." She purrs, nipping my Adam's apple softly, and I forget to ask her why she would have to share me with her sisters.

"Look at me, husband." She orders, and I oblige her willingly.

Which husband wouldn't?

"Do you like me?" She questions, and I nod. That seems to excite her, and she pulls me up and cups my face, "Don't you want to see me too?" She enquires seductively, and I nod again.

"Then, what are you waiting for?" She asks, leaning in and licking my lips.
It's cold and moist. And I want more. I open my mouth and lean in, but she leans away, "Not yet." She says decisively, putting a cold scaly finger on my lips. I try to hold her hand, but she pulls away and bares her shoulder.

"Do you like what you see?" She asks, guiding my fingers towards the nape on her neck and pulls the strings holding her top in place. The stringed garment slides down and pools at her waist, exposing her dusky skin.
My eyes take in the view in front of me, that close enough to touch, but her words, 'Not yet' echo in my ears and my hand stops and hovers over the tempting skin.

"Yes, I like it." I croak, answering her, and she shifts closer, "You can touch." She says, reading my mind.

I glide my hands over her cold bare shoulders, and she throws her head back, exposing her bronzed slender neck, and moans.

It is music to my ears.

I close my eyes and immerse myself in the feeling of the cold slippery skin. My mind whispers something about the sensation spreading through my palms being wrong, but just when I am about to open my eyes, Miranda commands, "Keep them closed." She pauses, and I feel cold featherlight touches on my chest,  like she is making an intricate design on my skin. The touches make my blood flow southward, and euphoria takes over my senses.

"How do you feel?" She asks when I am standing over the edge of bliss, waiting for her to push me over. 

"Perfect." I breathe in.

"More," I beg, but she stops instead and leans down. The dim light of the room illuminates her moist skin.
It's green with beads of water clinging to it. It reminds me of dew clinging to moss on early winter mornings, and I smile.

"I am beautiful, aren't I?" She hisses next to the shell of my ear before licking it and sinks her teeth in the nape of my neck.

I moan at the sting.

Miranda leans away, "You are not... " She starts, her brows crease but she trails off.

I hold her shoulders and sit up, "I am not, what?" I question, as blood drips from my neck, down to my chest. My mind starts to clear up.

I look into her red eyes and fear grips me, but just then, she smiles and starts muttering something under her breath. And just like that, my mind gets intoxicated with lust once again. I fall back into the bed and fist the sheets.

"You wanted more, right?"

"Yes." I agree.

"I will give you more, but I need you to do something for me first. Can you do that?" She asks, and I desperately nod my head and blurt out, "I will do anything."

With one hand in the center of my chest, holding me still, she puts the other behind her back and pulls out a knife.

I know I should be fearing her, but all I feel is desire and want, and a need to be pushed over the edge.

"Take it and push it into your chest." She orders, handing the knife over to me.

As my finger wrap around the scaly handle, a satisfied smile plays on her lips. "Do it, and your blood will be mine, forever."

"Blood?" I parrot and feel like something is holding me back from doing what my lovely wife is telling me to do. 

"Won't you do it, my darling husssssbandddd." She hisses, and my eyes catch a movement next to her hips.

It's a snake's tail.

I move my eyes higher, and terror grips me. For my wife's lower half has turned into a snake's body.

My mind clears instantly and I push Miranda off of me. "Who... who are you!?" I exclaim, pointing the knife at her and look on, as my once beautiful wife transforms into something that doesn't belong in the human world.

She laughs.

"You must have water's blessing protecting you." She states, moving closer, and I will my hands and legs to move. Unfortunately, they refuse to listen, and I stay frozen on the spot.
She stops a few inches away from my face and looks into my eyes, "Yes, one of us is protecting you." She announces and looks at the wound she had given me.

I feel her cold touch on my neck, and feel my eyes grow heavy. And a moment later, darkness surrounds me.

When I come to, I find myself on the open isolated beach, with the sun shining on my face. I sit up and the events of the night before, flood my mind.

Panicking, I touch my neck, but feel smooth skin under my fingers.

"Maybe it was a dream." I wonder aloud. Standing up, I step on something hard. And there, partially buried, but unmistakable, lies the knife that would have ended me.
I pick it up, and my mind whispers, "Maybe it wasn't."

Petrified, I throw the knife into the sea, and leave the place. Vowing, never to return. 

{Note :- Word count 2474}