I
.
Charles surveyed the courtyard of his newly acquired villa by the cliff. 'Its beautiful', he thought. All he wanted was some peace and quiet of his own and he was going to get it no matter what. He'd found the house up for sale at a ridiculously low price and snapped it up immediately. He had wondered then, 'What could possibly be wrong with it for it to be so unjustifiably priced ?'. He had asked his broker, but the man had no idea either. Well, he wasn't exactly the one to look the gift horse in the mouth but something about this house made him tingle. At 35, he was single and one of the most affluent and successful business men in the world, but that came at the price of not being able to spend even a moment's peace. It was funny how someone as rich as him couldn't afford some peace and quiet in his own backyard and hence, the hide-away.
.
II
.
No one knew about this house of his. He had paid the broker through second and third parties and was determined to see that no one invaded this sanctuary of his. He walked up the stairs of the main hall and turned left and started off towards the west wing. This is where he would sleep he decided. This side faces the cliff and he could see the waves crashing into the rocks below from his bedroom window. The large four-poster bed occupied most of the southern wall and the rest of the space was reserved for his shelf and chest. The mahogany dressing table was opposite to the window, which was covered by thick red drapes, giving the room a warm aura. He walked out of the room, closing the door and headed back down to the main hall. He decided to go and check out the beach. He had learned earlier that there was a small pathway from the grounds that led directly to the sea-side. There was a relatively large strip of fine sand which was part of the grounds, meaning his own private beach. The idea excited him. He hated public beaches for the sheer numbers that came there and it had been his desire since he was child, to own a beach of his own. He located the path easily enough. There had been some under-growth but it was nothing unmanageable. He carefully made his way down, avoiding the thorns. This was another intriguing thing about Charles. He was a self made man and this fact was often hidden by his huge wealth. So even though he was rich, it was not as if he was unfamiliar to hardships. For his age, he was in perfect condition. His toned muscles a testimony to his hours of swimming, he was far from frail. He finally made it down to the beach itself. The view awaiting him was breath taking. The sun was just setting and the sea was azure blue, a 'painters dream' as they call it. He looked back to the strip of inviting white sand, when he saw something he hadn't noticed before.
.
III
.
The woman was sitting near the shore, in front of a make-shift canvas. She wore an odd assortment of clothing, what looked like a two-piece top of some soft and silvery material and a curious looking shell-like hair clip held her brilliantly red hair in place, but it wasn't her clothing that Charles was looking at. He was least concerned about this. The lady, she was stunningly beautiful. He felt his breath leave him and he could swear that his heart was beating a hundred times faster. He cautiously approached her, careful as to not startle her. As he moved closer, he saw that there was a strange cloth wrapped and tucked in around her legs. She seemed to be completely engrossed in her painting and he, in her. She was the woman of his dreams. The famed 'perfect' lady, who would steel the gazes and breath of all men. This was her. She was right here, sitting on his beach and painting the perfect picture, but only thing, as far as he was concerned, she was his perfect picture. He walked up to her and admired the way she had captured the setting sun so well.
.
IV
.
She must have heard him or sensed his presence in some way because she suddenly turned around and looked up at him, startled. "Hey", he said with a smile "that's some painting you've got there." She returned his smile slowly, her bright green eyes scanning him, trying to decide whether he was danger or not. "Hello", she said. "I didn't notice there was someone else on this beach." "Well, I just bought that house off that cliff up there", he pointed "and the broker said I owned the beach too." "Oh", she said and blushed red, greatly flustered. "I'll leave immediately. I'm terribly sorry, the previous owner allowed me... I didn't know... I'm leaving right now." "No, please, stay. I have absolutely no problem with you treating this beach as if its your own", he said, secretly hoping she would agree for he would die if he could never see her again. "Thank you very much. I live in the villa out by the other side of the beach and my servant carried me out today and it was such a wonderful day. He's promised to be back in an hour though I must say, he is a little late. My legs are weak from birth and I have a little trouble moving around on my own", she stated bravely. "Think nothing of it, my dear. All the more time for me to enjoy your company ", he said with a grin realising that he had fallen hard for the girl. "So, have you finished the painting ?", he enquired. She bit her lip, once again channelising all her attention onto her creation. "Its missing something", she stated after a thought. "I need to draw someone swimming out into the sea but I can't seem to visualize it" "Ah", he said "I can help you there." "Oh would you ?" she asked, her eyes sparkling. 'Could anyone refuse those eyes ?', he wondered. He started stripping off his clothes. It was as if he was completely captivated by her. 'This is what it means to be put under some one's spell', he thought, for he had never experienced it before. He dove into the water, with his thought still elsewhere and the sudden coldness brought him back to reality. 'What am I doing in here ?!', he wondered and suddenly remembered the mysterious girl on the beach. He turned around in the water to wave to her, but found that she was no longer on the beach. He heard a sudden screech and suddenly felt himself being pulled into the water. The last thing he remembered before the darkness took him, was the flashing of a large fish-tail against the setting sun.
.
V
.
The next day there was an uproar the New York Stock market. The Charlton Company shares were dropping severely in price and there was general chaos created by the rumors of the death of the owner. All the speculation was brought to a rest after the piece on the Sunday Times :
"The police of Cornwall have found what has been confirmed to be the clothes of the Billionaire industrialist Charles Wayne. He is suspected to have drowned off the coast and the search is still on for his body. He is survived by..."
The Mythological Mermaids of the Greek Isles are anything but a myth...
