Chapter 13 Just like the rivers
Sometimes I dream of the sea… and of a woman with l
María nodded slowly. “All my life. I don’t know why, but I’ve always been drawn to the water. And I’ve had dreams… strange dreams about swimming beneath the waves, about hearing voices.”
Vicki reached out, placing a gentle hand on María’s. “Maybe there’s more to your story than we realize. I think you’re connected to Antonella.Vicky’s life had become a delicate dance between reality and the unseen depths she now felt calling her. Since her mystical encounter with the oceanic realm within the library, her thoughts kept circling around the mermaid Antonella—her grace, her strength, her quiet, mysterious presence. The dreams had become more vivid, filled with shimmering scales and the hypnotic melody of the mermaid’s song.
Meanwhile, María, her talented and spirited dance student, had grown increasingly curious about her teacher’s recent obsession with the mysterious book and her distant, contemplative moods. María was a young girl of fifteen, with a passion for dance that rivaled her curiosity for life itself. She idolized Vicky, not only for her skill but also for her unwavering commitment to her art. María was like a flickering flame—bright, eager, and always seeking to learn more.
One afternoon, María arrived at the dance studio, her hair pulled into a messy bun, her eyes shining with anticipation. “Vicky, I’ve been practicing that new choreography you showed me,” she said breezily, her voice tinged with excitement. “Can I show you?”
Vicky, seated on the edge of the studio’s wooden floor, looked up and offered a gentle smile. “Of course, María. I’d love to see.”
As María began her routine, Vicky watched with a mixture of pride and distraction. The girl moved with fluidity, her limbs expressing emotion with every step. But her mind was elsewhere—haunted by the ocean’s call, the shimmering poem, and the strange, luminous world she had glimpsed.
When María finished, she paused, catching her breath. “Vicky, are you okay? You seem a little... distant lately. Like you’re somewhere else.”
Vicky hesitated, then decided to be honest. “It’s just been a lot on my mind, María. Sometimes, stories and dreams have a way of pulling us into places we didn’t expect.”
María tilted her head, sensing her teacher’s cryptic tone. “Like the mermaid stories you read? I saw you with that book yesterday.”
Vicky’s cheeks warmed slightly. “Yes, something like that. It’s a story that’s been very meaningful to me lately. But I promise, it’s just a part of my imagination.”
María’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. She loved stories, especially ones about mystical worlds and daring adventures. “Can I read it someday? Maybe it can inspire my dance too.”
Vicky nodded, feeling a warm surge of affection for her young student. “Maybe someday, María. For now, let’s focus on your dance. You’re making incredible progress.”
Over the next few days, María’s curiosity only deepened. She noticed how often Vicky would drift into her thoughts during lessons, her gaze distant yet tender. María was perceptive beyond her years and sensed that her teacher was searching for something—something beyond the physical realm of dance.
Over the next few days, María’s curiosity only deepened. She noticed how often Vicky would drift into her thoughts during lessons, her gaze distant yet tender. María was perceptive beyond her years and sensed that her teacher was searching for something—something beyond the physical realm of dance.
One evening, after a particularly intense practice, María approached Vicky as the studio emptied. “Vicky, I’ve been thinking. You seem different lately. Like you’re chasing something invisible. Maybe I can help. Or maybe I just want to understand.”
Vicky looked at her student, her heart swelling with affection and a touch of guilt. María was young, pure, and eager—so different from her own tangled emotions. She placed a gentle hand on María’s shoulder. “Thank you, María. Sometimes, we all need a little help finding our way. But for now, just keep dancing. That’s where your truth lies.”
That night, Vicky sat alone in her apartment, the mermaid book open on her lap. The moonlight spilled through the window, casting silvery shadows across her face. Her thoughts returned to Antonella—the way her voice had sounded in her dreams, the fire in her eyes, the strength she exuded.
Suddenly, her phone vibrated. It was a message from María: “Vicky, I’ve been drawing some of the dance moves we practiced today. I want to show you tomorrow. Maybe it can help you find your own rhythm.”
Vicky smiled softly, touched by the girl’s innocence and kindness. She responded, “Thank you, María. I look forward to seeing your art.”
As she closed the book, she felt a gentle pull, as if the ocean’s song was echoing in her mind once more. The whispers of the depths beckoned her to remember that her journey was far from over.
The next morning, María arrived with a sketchbook filled with expressive dance figures and swirling lines. Her enthusiasm was contagious. Vicky watched as María moved through her own improvisation—her body telling stories of longing and liberation, echoing the themes of the mermaid’s song.
In that moment, Vicky realized that María’s innocence and passion mirrored Antonella’s fiery spirit. Could it be that the young girl embodied some essence of the mermaid’s strength—a reflection of what she yearned to connect with?
Later that day, Vicky decided to revisit the library, seeking clarity. She returned to the corner where she had found the mysterious book, her heart pounding with anticipation. As she opened it again, the same faint shimmer appeared, and the words of the poem seemed to glow brighter.
She closed her eyes, letting herself be transported once more to the ocean’s edge. The mermaid Antonella appeared, her fiery hair shimmering like flames, her gaze filled with understanding. “The ocean’s song is not just a call to others,” Antonella whispered. “It is a mirror of your own soul. To truly hear it, you must listen with all your heart—and trust what you find in the depths.”
Vicky nodded, feeling the truth of those words resonate within her. She understood that her connection to Antonella was more than admiration; it was a reflection of her own longing for freedom, authenticity, and love.
As she left the library that day, she carried the image of Antonella’s fiery eyes and the endless ocean within her. The dance of shadows and light was no longer just a metaphor—it was her path forward.