Siryn

By C.E. Murphy

The waters have risen, leaving cities drowned and a future changed beyond recognition. And into that future, something new has been born--or perhaps something impossibly old has been released.

She does not know how she came to be, only that the oceans are her favored home...until a man from the world above nearly dies in her domain, and she is drawn toward the soft and easy life he seems to possess. But there is a price to pay for love, and in the end...

...you will never be part of her world...

• Language: English
• Publisher: C.E. Murphy
• Release date: Aug 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393950318

C.E. Murphy

C.E. Murphy is the author of more than twenty books—along with a number of novellas and comics. Born in Alaska, currently living in Ireland, she does miss central heating, insulation and—sometimes–snow but through the wonders of the internet, her imagination and her close knit family, she’s never bored or lonely. While she does travel through time (sadly only forward, one second at a time) she can also be found online at www.cemurphy.net or @ce_murphy on Twitter

Book preview

mkp_copyrightpage_colophone_small

Copyright © 2019 by C.E. Murphy 

All Rights Reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the author, [e-mail].

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover & E-Book Design: Miz Kit Productions

Cover Artist: The Book Cover Machine

Title Font: Wet Pet by Raymond Larabie

Contents

Siryn

Siryn

Nothing born human can breathe beneath the waves, but I can, and so I don't know what I am. My tails are mechanical, heavy and burdensome on land, but powerful beneath the sea. I carry my fat comfortably, able to dive deeper than any human can, and there are whales who call me by name. Not the name I call myself, no, but they sing a sound to me and me alone, and laugh when I call it back to them in a voice more powerful than is natural. I breathe as humans do at the surface, and can hold my breath longer than a dolphin, but when breath gives out and evolution pressures me to inhale, gills split along my ribs with a terrible ache, and then I may stay in the depths as long as I desire.

Perhaps I am evolution, adapted to the rising seas and the algae blooms and the salinity changes. But evolution does not come overnight, and my mothers were not like me. Perhaps I am engineered to be as I am, and my oddities will not pass down to another generation. But that will not do, because to survive, my daughters must be like me, or better yet.

Perhaps I am rage