Thursday, August 9, 2012


((A Fable of the Deep—Peru) (One Act Short Play/Poetic Drama))  

By Dennis L. Siluk, Dr.h.c.
Eight Time Poet Laureate

Persons in the Play

THE MERMAN—a merman from the deep sea, he can have two legs, or a fish like fin for the back, it really doesn’t matter; on his back two humps as if he has perturbing lungs—again this is up to those it matters to; his skin is a discoloration from humans, more on the greenish side of life I would think (on the other hand he can look anyway you want him to). He is in water up to his hips, but slowly extends himself to below his knees, and then will be on shore.  (The Merman will do 95% of the monologue; very little dialogue).

THE OLDMAN—he looks old, he holds a look of no threat, but there is always something devious about his eyes, his look, perhaps in his sixties or seventies. He could have a beard or mustache, which is to say. Throughout the play he edges closer to the Merman. He will talk, only but a few times with only a few words, everything else will have to be by expressions.

THE WIFE—she is seen in the background occasionally, then she looks out the window, occasionally, none threatening, but you see her more and more as the old man and the merman get closer to each other and then not at all until the very end of the last scene. She will not speak throughout the play…other than having the last words.

THREE CHILDREN—can be seen in the background they are playing (occasionally be seen playing, we don’t want to take the full focus off the Merman and Old Man, until the end of last scene, where two of the children come down to the sea to see what is going on, and the elder boy, goes near the mermen and his grandfather. The elder of the three boys will say but a few words at the end scene. Again, most of the characters need to use expressions to get the details of their emotions across.

DOG—in the background, and may or may not show up closer to the merman with the elder boy at the end scene at the sea’s edge; this is optional, other than that, he can remain in the background.

Scene:  In front of the sea, a Merman has appeared; in the background a beach house, with a large bay window, to the side in back of the beach house is a garden area, where the children will appear and disappear, as will the dog. The dog can be of any breed, the children, two younger perhaps six or seven, and the older boy perhaps nine or ten.

Location: the location can be anywhere of course, where there is a sea or ocean, but for all intent and purposes, it was written with the intent it takes place off the shores of Peru, more towards the southern part/district of Lima, off the ocean front, where there are communities of resort houses (again this is not a necessity for the play). 

Note:  The play has been altered from its original narrative style poem (“Merman,” a narrate poem).

First and only Act

[The Merman comes from out of the water towards the front of 
       the Stage]


The gray whales are going south: I love their practicalities they are
       the great

       pale bulks of hot blood, that rise and fall, rise and fall, catching The wind

       with the sea— turning over and over in the deep cold waters!

None of us here, remember our ancestors—not like those human   
Beasts, that
       Crawl the earth!    

       Get out of the ocean

I say, I have howled, tried to tell them, time and time again, men
looking for 

       rainbows—; nor loved nor saved any part of the Ocean—Only

Brought evil.

They are like half dead eels trying to swim, that’s what I think of

       them; like them: birds, stone clouds of which I see only evil—

They drift like seaweed. Heavy footed creatures—that have taken to

       the sea, from time immemorial, yet they do not belong here, or

       to us but They are here  nonetheless, are they not—over which

I see only evil.

I come from great ancestors, yes; I carry the great name of one, 
       Nereus, one of the great marine deities from long ago, called:

‘Old Man

       From the Sea’; which had the gift of prophecy—

I only have   instinct, intuition—but it has served me well.

There, over there,

       look eyes, look well, black abhorrence. There is the living skull

Of a human Man, staring, standing, not of the sea, these warm

       blooded beasts have thoughts and emotions, to rule all the

Lands and the Oceans, who’s will to cast me as a creature of the sea, No

       more, no less, not allowing me any dignity.

They  move about

With thin cracking bones, white as clouds; bones no stronger than

       eggshells—he turns his face towards me, for hate and curiosity.

He doesn’t even know yet, but he despises me.

And if I try to befriend him, he will only stare at me, with

       those great stone like eyes, run and hide, have a heart attack.

Protein eaters, with erratic nerves and brain waves…

He just stares at me, as if I shouldn’t exist; now he’ll write

       something to the effect:

‘I saw strange things in my time— a Merman,’ but he’ll not scream

It out,

       Lest he alter his image to his comrades.

Grow fat and die old man: that is my wisdom for you.

He thinks I’m the devil I bet.

            Beware of my teeth, ha, ha, ha…! 

[You can see a seagull
Fly by over head of the merman and hear the splashing of the

I saw a great squid this morning—

In the deep, very deep!

Must have weighted ten-thousand pounds—!

Maybe not, maybe that is an exaggeration; perhaps only three


It was hiding under the weight of the world— just waiting,

                        to grab  me!

Horror is here, is what I said.

Not uncaused. There was a reason…. To eat me—the slime wants
       to eat me

       as if I was a worm. But he was slow as a tree


As ugly as seaweed; no wiser than a dumb eel—mindless, just a    
       muddy mindless creature, soft tissue creature creeping in the

Of the deep—

He will die soon. Another deep sea creature will kill him for sport Or

       need  of food, it goes, and gloats, both ways here.

Greatness in the Sea Mr. Human means long life, but death

       punishes many with a short one: with terror leaking and

Looking into every shadow for its prey!

Yes, it comes to us also, tragedies too, our blood will blend into

       the sea, as yours bleeds into the dry sands.

I feel as you feel, destined when I was born, now it is destined that I See

      You: Oh, Oh, but why? You look so helpless.

[There is a moment of silence; both are staring at one another.]

The blood, the blood, yours is not like ours: oh, Mother of the Sea,

Tiamat, the image of god is here, he calls to me, and he forbids me


       leave with that stare, and I want to stay, out of curiosity. He

        stands beside the sea, his body is very erect,

No! No! I say, sink down into the waters, as long as they live I shall 

       be only a trophy to them or like a lamb to the beast, man goes

       mad if

They think too much; they are the crown of horrors…

[The old man’s face changes, and then holds a slight smile, a long
       gaze at the Merman, a sweet small face, with a pale wild-rose Color to it, with Thorns in his eyes.]

Flee away from here! Something no good will come soon!

Oh—listen to me!

[The Mermen is thinking out loud]

We have our wooded glens, and nostalgic twilights— just like you,  

       just different, so don’t be so snobbish.

We don’t have fire that’s about it, but we got the sun and we got 

       molten rock, volcanic emissions—

So put that in your pipe and smoke it, Mr. Man! Un-kinged from the


He’s looking for his camera I think. You are no different than an evil


       with evil thoughts, evil passions—you hold inside of you.

Your horns are hidden inside your heart.

You are more animal than I. You’d freeze in the ice-cold midwinter   

       waters of this sea—turn yellow like a parakeet.

That’s how weak you are. Perhaps I’m jealous, I’m not sure. No

       oxygen down here, just salted water for us monstrous


We are although made of amino-acids, I think; I can defend you out


I am twenty or thirty years more than one-hundred, and you are not  

       the first man I saw, but I am the first Merman you saw.

I am a wonder of the world to you.

Unambiguously creature, you’re thinking I am, and unambiguously

       sea-monster I must be, —

[The old man, is stands facing the Merman, he has never flinched,
       says no wild words, says no words at all. To the Merman he Could be Day-dreaming, for all that matter, he can hear the Merman     
       mumbling something, and the language to him is Gobbledygook…the old man Could in all likelihood say or shake his
       head as if not to understand, or a  gesture from his left hand.]

Should I submerge, before you take that picture?

You really do not know what I am; I see that theory on your face,

       which is no theory…I am the least of the wonders, of the sea,  

       should you take time to investigate? And you, you are just

Bones on shore.

Oh, the Pacific Ocean shore…

The power of the Ocean!

[Standing, meditating, mumbling, talking]

Here in the ocean, we do not take sides, like you do, in war, there
       are no brawlers here.

Just good and evil, that, which is common among all living things

   No, we don’t hold our noses and compromise, cold minds, we are

   Not Hitler’s here, or without love…

       but for a few of us!

No, we do not quarrel either, for us it is better not to strike or if  

       necessary, strike often; but we do not seek arms or gems, we

Just travel the sea.

Here I live among stones.

Stones that have rolled about on the floor of the sea for thousands

       of years. — [abstractedly] Oh…Human…Did you get a

    good look yet?

Many stones are unlucky they end up with the tides onto the bays

Of the

I tell you these things because you are too old to learn them on your

       own …

[Without much interest the old man continues to stare, he really Cannot decipher what the Merman is talking about; he moves a foot
       or two closer, his  face for a moment shows deception…]

Along the shores, these old stones fall, never again to feel the brush

       of water:

Picked up by man, for a wall or fence, or house—who’s to say, it’s

       all a craving passion for man to own something—

They love the tide-wash, that’s what I call it.  They make me


The nausea they provide just watching the sea, as if they were

       shepherds, all demagogues?

Go back to your pitiless wars, prepare for them.

Go back to your yachts—

Go back and hide on your yachts, and say to your people what great

       seamen you are. I do not wish to think of such horrors of you

Dominating my world…

[Flames in his eyes]

You all like to feel our fresh air beating against your shoulders, and


I’ve seen many a man fall into the sea; I look straight into their eyes,

       they want me to save them.

“Death,” I say to them, cold and stern death, I whisper as bubbles   

       come out of their mouths, with blood in the corners:

I want to be merciful, and even have wanted to save a few—but I  

       don’t, I never do, their eyes say:

“You have the keys to the reserves, to allow me to live!”

Their hot young lives sinking, deeper and deeper, fading into 


I have no absolute enemy, wineskin old man, not even you.

Who knows what crimes they’ve committed on land—they are the  

       meanest minds once you’ve opened them up!

Save them, yes, I’ve heard tales from a few of my Kind, Pale Saints I   

       call them.

When death comes, old man, it is utter despair, darkness, extinction  

       within these waters.

Some God or higher being, which has made us, mermen and

       Mermaids: most are unable to beget a child: that is my trouble;

       we cannot leave heirs, so our faces grow dim to those in the

Ocean once we are dead.

I tell you these things because humans are skilled in mysteries.

Are you a shark-eyed enemy in need of absolute vengeance—you’d

       kill? Ah, you do not understand me at all.

Anyhow, as I was saying, about to say: they, those like me, think
       they are the lions

       of the sea, and they flock around their Feet, and drag them on

Shore, and when they wake up, they wake Up thinking, yes thinking

       a miracle took place, but it was our kind that saved them, not

Always but more often than not.

We are gifted too; it was us, not a miracle. We just do not gloat

       about it like them…!    

If there is any rightness on earth or in its waters, ‘Why give more

       grief to the ocean they say.’ In bitter mockery, I have not

Sheltered any human, not once, if by their own means they came

       into the ocean, so they must leave, this is my philosophy.

Okay, okay, take the picture, he sees me, take the damn picture,

       and get it over with!

The old man just stands there like a goat. If I tell him to ignore me,

       he won’t.  Go back to your house, your castle, or

Whatever you call it—shed, slow-witted man!

Go hammer away on the skulls of your beloved friends, your great  

       ideas how you’ll save the world—

Stupidity! That is what it is, his brains are squeezed, he just wants a 

       picture to show his friends down at the bar!...

He’s got lopsided shoulders, perhaps other things lopsided also—I 

       see the sea-wind makes him shiver.

You’ve got to move that hot blood about, like the whales do!


He took the picture. Now forevermore he’ll be impressed, at the bar

       talking like brattling birds about

The Merman; I will be an insane, ridicules monster to them, a freak:  

       but I am who I am.

Someone will say, some girl in the bar, will say:

“Ah, sad, such a sad poor freaky creature…!”

And her boyfriend will say, will try to be heroic, and say:

“A shocking green creature like that—they just don’t exist!”


       someone else will say, a mindless drunk, will say:

“He made that photo from shadows,”

As if he altered the photograph—I think they call it special effects!

That’s what they’ll all say.

Right then, right after that short discussion, the old man will point

On the photograph this and that: he’ll point to the starting point of  

       my tiny jaw, my iron gray hair—

Trying to impersonate: ‘The old man of the sea…’

If only they knew my tiresome memories, but they don’t care about

Them that is what I’d like to tell them: “Waaah!” Yes, I’d cry out to  

       those nasty man faces, and I’d like to tell them—one and all, to   

       get rid of those nasty nets and all—

I’d say, I do say, I’d like to say: I’m thinking neurotic, perhaps I have

A tinge of neurosis thinking: I’d like to say, I know it’s rude, but it

       is the only way to say it:

“No offense, get rid of those nets, those nasty nets—asshole!”

It was not always like this, no, not always, but those good days are

       gone, long gone. More people moving west, for the splintered

Sunlight, I guess.

It is a matter of fact, I have never killed a man, and never will, or

       expect to.

Small squids, more meat!

It is true I feel some kind of dismay for man, discounting Women,

       I’ve never seen one.

But whales, and sharks, and eels, can make for a concerning 
       afternoon, no weak division here: it is their happiness:

They see all life with no scrutinizing of it.

They’re masked in it like crabs in sludge…

So I live, day by day, month to month, year after year, age to age.

I talk to myself, to the moon, the stars.

Even to this Man who took a picture of me, some one-hundred feet   


The old coot, which shakes his head—yes, I’m having a one-way   

       conversation with him that he is unaware of!

I see in the far-off distance behind his shed, wild pigs, no not really,

       kids, rug-rats, must be his grandkids he’s looking at them and

Then me, I nod my head ‘no’ he understands that, he knows I’ll

       submerge if he does.

Let them rattle away into the bushes!  That’s what I say. 

Talking, talking, I feel, I’m spinning a web, and he thinks he’s   


Woops, I get the first big happy grin, stirring at me

I want to tell him to ram that special grin up his nose! But I won’t.

He’s just 

       really a pile of bones, an old rat pile of bones!

With a fat belly, a foul bulk rolling belly, he won’t have time to have  

       old memories of me—

Blue sweater, like the sea, and my kind, we live two-hundred and    

       fifty years, I’m at my midlife!

Years past, we’ve lived longer, desecration to the sea waters, guess

          by whom? Gigantic explosions, humans!

An invisible fire is in his eyes, not sure what they say,

But should I follow my intuition, I’d submerge, they want to talk to  


My soul can hardly resist, should I?  What do you think?

Guess, if I will or will not? His fists are clinched, he wants to


       swim out deep into the sea with me, and I’m only knee high in

       the water.

I’ll crawl up a little closer, while he catches his breath.

I’m not sure how long I can remain out here, this has been the 

       longest of times for me—

I feel like hissing, my mind is a little slow, I mean slowing down

       some, if not missing 


I mean I’ve always wanted to, at least one time to, just one time,

One time, just one time, to talk to a man, see how long I’d last  

       outside the water; I’ve wanted to,

Notice the terrible sameness, these men put up with. Perhaps even  

       talk to one: what’s intuition anyways!

Bleak it is here, standing here in the water, looking at him, and the

       sky, with only pale light.

[The Merman is a tinge uneasy and seemingly talking to his
       seconds self out loud, while examining the human.]

My mind tells me you will give me death before bread. Is that it old

       man? The

       hidden part of your mind, do you not have other things to do—

       but forget them, I’m more interesting?

I could drag your old bones out to sea—I suppose, down into the 

       dark Chasms if indeed I wanted to! 

Then he’d have something to talk about.

Seize him, crush his bones.  I get terrified just thinking about me 

       doing it: he’s shaking his head for me not to go!

I don’t want an audience.

At the same time, this is somewhat motivating.

Perhaps he thinks he’ll snatch me, not in a thousand years, unless 

       he is a lunatic, and has a fit—, and if so, I’ll simply jump

Backwards—but I can’t take him down, my heart is not in it…

He glances at me awkwardly, like a lizard—sneaking up closer: foot 

       by foot!
I used to take some pride in showing off; I was younger back then, 

       burning with sickness

And often, too often, I’d show myself to the sailors, and they’d yell:

“Look over yonder!”

That was when I moved to the deep-sea depths: to get away from all

       that foolishness!…

My roots go back ten-centuries.

If he wants to live like me, he’s crazy; I live in a king’s graveyard,

Sprayed out from end to end with unmoving nights, lest a

       cadaverous creature detect my sudden coming—

Thus, comes cringing stages, and lack of sleep in hushed old


There I sink into silence, cross my tailfins, hope my world doesn’t

End—hope that some shark or great eel or similar foe doesn’t

       invade my

       dingy underground room.

I live where my unremembered ancestors have lived.

We don’t have well developed memories; it doesn’t serve any

       purpose for us…

[There is a moment of silence; he seems to have gone slowly, deep  
     into thought…]

Yes Old Man, on one hand it is a miserable life, in the sea, that 

       clutches at my sleep: similar to your greed and wars and stories 

       you like to boast about…but cannot find sleep thereafter…

We stand and survive in our own putrid environments: 

Don’t ask a question please!

[The old man wiggled his finger, the Merman notices but for what
       reason, is beyond him, as if he has some things to do…Now he Looks at his Watch, is he going someplace? There is an odd
       expression the Merman’s face—as if to say, ‘What’s up?’.]

That’s a joke. If you want to talk to me go ahead…

[He hears a noise
       behind him but pays little to no attention to it, deep in thought,
The sound is mixed with the swish of the waves, the tide…].

I wait here, why? That’s what he wants of me, to wait: what is he

       plotting in his deep mind?

Should I talk to him, I know several languages, even his English and

       his wife’s Spanish…

She looks Spanish; I’ve seen her in the window several times—of

       course Peruvian—since this is the Southern Peruvian Coast,

I think a district of Lima, she’s younger than him by a decade or so,

Calm as winter.

Yes, I’ve come up now and then, she’s seen me I bet, respects me, 

       says nothing to her husband about me,

Otherwise he’d not be so surprised— ten years I’ve watched her,

       no, it’s been twelve! I can comfort her.

Did I say I never saw a woman?

I forgot—I have, a shadow, she’s just been a shadow to me. And
       every time she’s saw me I’ve read her lips, and they’ve said,

“Fair be the gale behind you my friend, and ahead of you.”


[A Seagull flies overhead; you can hear the wings and the wind]

Woe, woe, woe!


[He notices the seagull, and that he and the old man are closer]

I hear my belly, it growls, sick from that sour squid.

There she peeks out the window:

‘Take him,’ she says, ‘take him away so I can live in peace—’

I can’t read her lips really, but if I were her, I’d be saying that, the  

       old coot, ram rod coot.

He’s a punishment for her, that’s what I think.

I wonder if she’d marry me.

They marry I guess, not like us in the sea, us so called Sea


[You can hear the dog behind the house, howl, and see the children
       playing:  they stop to look a few times towards the old man and The Merman, Not Sure what they are seeing, a bit curious. The Old
       man’s wife has gone from the window now, the old man is Mumbling, nothing understandable. The Merman is mumbling too:]

      I suppose she’s wondering


Kick them little rug-rats in the ass…sss!  That’s what I’d do.

Theories, he’s still on theories, whimpering,

the old goat, whining, mumbling, groaning for me to take him

down…with those grim eyes!

Almost praying…a feeble-minded old man, thinks he’ll find Atlantis

       down there…I should think, he would need his wife’s care.

Yes, oh yes, he is just a feeble old man, with sagging flesh, that 

       even the seagulls would get tart from!

Married to a pretty wench! A cute winch!

His legs are swollen; he’s a hundred feet from me now, no closer.

The sky has changed.

He has some lunatic theory—he’s mumbling away, as if talking to


       ear— perhaps senility… 

[The old man is really, saying in a low
Voice, ‘Hurry up, hurry up,’ knowing his wife is coming…
He is talking to an ear phone on the side the Merman cannot see.]

I’m starting to cringe, claw my flesh, I should flee—

I’m getting goose bumps, if you know what I mean something’s


He thinks he’s penetrated a mystery, he has a chilly intellect, and I  

       can say that it’s getting hard for me to cope here!

[The old man’s wife is sneaking around the other side, the blind side   
       to the Merman, of the house, in her and carrying a baseball Bat. She looks at it, as she circles around the Merman, as if: should
       she  or should she not us it?
But she doesn’t stop. On the other side of the house in the garden the
       children are playing with the dog, this can clearly be seen. She Will sneak up behind the Merman as he gets a foot of water deep, And hit him over the head with the bate; the scene now can be
       darkened with stage lights on the main characters. The Merman drops to his knees, then   completely onto the ground,
       onto his back: he is not completely unconscious. The old man is Now dragging the Merman onto dry sand.]

My mind is white, I think I drop, dropped to my knees no I’m on


       back, and I’m on  sand, he has dragged me onto the sand,

What’s he intending to do?

What just happened?

[The Merman is staring up at the Old Man, amazed. He looks        
       dumbfounded; not quite knowing what hit him. But it was the Bate the Woman is holding in her hands, a baseball bat. Now the 
       old man is tarring his arm off—it’s now off. The woman is Waving Her Hands behind him; the Merman looks at her, sees the  
       bat, his  face says:  ‘how did she get here so quick…?’ Blood is Pouring out of His Upper shoulder.’ The kids start to edge
       forward, and then run down to the seashore.]

The kids are running down to see me…

No, now think, think quick and straight!

I’m really going to die, he thinks he can—

The cold blooded Beast!  Do me in!

I’ll cry out: “Help!”


[The old man looking down at the Merman, has a doubtfully 
       looking face, hoping to persuade the approaching children it Was as he is going to say, an accident. The elder boy approaches,
       while the other two boys retreat somewhat.]

  Look, it was an accident…!~


[The Merman looks up, slightly awake looking sharply at the old 
        man Mumbling to himself, ‘Death is here, death is here’. Turns suddenly to the Boy…]

Liar, he’s just wants me to die, for you to be calm, for the children to

       be calm.

[The old man is overturning him like an infant, like a Tossed Fish!]

THE MERMAN continued

[The old man is silent, and then the Merman says slowly]

I’ll bellow out, yes that’s what I’ll do: “Help! Please help…!”

My English perhaps isn’t that entirely good, first time I’ve ever used 

       it!    [He mumbles.]

[Now everyone but the Merman remains frozen in their ways while
       the Merman talks out loud but he is really just thinking…the Merman Doesn’t move during his thinking process—stares; the dog
       is out of sight.]

The blind mindless, old coot—what’s he up to.

He thinks I’m a demon, no just an odd mindless sea creature.

He’s tying my other hand around my waist, tight against my torso, 

       with his twisted shirt!~


An Accident, it was really just an accident

[He kneels on the sand with one knee, painfully.]


[He mumbles.]

Then why is he doing what he is doing?

He’s taking another picture of me, for god’s sake, what is his

problem,  his game?

[He mumbles. No one can hear him clearly, and that can be clarified
because no one is paying him any attention…]

[Now everyone but the Merman remains frozen in their ways
       again, while  the Merman talks out loud but he is really just Thinking…the Merman doesn’t move during his thinking process—Stares; still the
       dog is out of Sight.]

Blackness, I’m feeling a dark power moving over me [dim the

       lights], I’m falling into 

       a deeper dread, I’ll tumble into death I know that now—any

Minute now.

Wait, no, my sight is getting better [he looks to his side notices

       blood is all underneath him],

My blood: I gave him what he wanted, a smile, a moment, a picture,

       and now we are old enemies.

My heart bangs with terror.

He’s just standing there, his wife calm as winter, mindless as well.

He never did want to go down to the chasm below.

He doesn’t even like the sea, how can he, I’m from it!

He’s one of those that go to church, for the sake of appearance, He’s

       A hypocrite, a house that looks over the sea, and he does this

       to me!

He is feeling joy for his captured creature—he will boast this


He’ll be in the paper tomorrow.

I am his animal, his prized fish.

They are enjoying my obliteration, laugh—: ‘…behold my listeners,

the Merman is here!’

Then someone will say: “Poor, creature,” I hear one of the kids say,

      that in a whispers…

 [The elder boy in the background has said a few times, in a near Whisper:
       ‘The poor creature,’ the Merman has mimicked him…]


[Now standing over the Merman very quietly, looking at the elder
       boy, and the two children behind him, his wife now on the Other side of the Merman near his end…, dropping the bat, with
       flinching hands to her  temples…]

He had an accident, it is better to put him out of his Misery...!


[He mumbles.]

What place is this? Where am I now? I am of the Sea! Yet I die on 


A sea that is more foreign to me than death!

I am just a visitor here…how empty sand can be I knew it before I

       felt it—dry sand, no wild creature could have done this to me, I

Hated you then I loved you and tried to understand you, now again  
       I hate you:

Fleshed demon with blood-flattened temples, I should have killed

       you the moment I saw you.

I tore my own heart out and laughed, and now you laugh while I

       strain to breathe my last breath.

[The Merman’s head is bobbing, dizziness…][And the sand
       becomes a   faded brown and the winds start blowing, and all That was still in Nature seems to be aroused: He remains laying
       on  the gravel, like a dying  leaf—no: like a dead leaf!]


[She says walking around the body towards her husband, looking
       sharply at her husband, quietly looks at the children, disheveled And shaking, it is getting windy and cold, and dark….looking
       strangely into the air as if she was one of the soldiers that had Crucified Christ, an innocent creature, as if she and her husband
       and children will now be subject to misfortune.]

You caused these things, you and your fancy to have a price fish, tell

       me at least: well we get misfortune for what we have done? 

Perhaps it was a man of sorts that only God has a right to destroy.

 [Then she looks out to sea, hears the roaring of thunder and that
       of a nearly inaudible, but huge wave: crushing waters it is Twilight now. The winds can be heard, she says:]

Something is coming? 

Something is running at us!  

[Everyone is standing and looking out to sea, and the lights go out
       on stage, and everything is quiet, silent, and the curtain goes Down….]

The Curtain Goes Down

The End of the Play

Notes: This story has a tinge of truth to it, Robinson Jeffers, the great poet, once claimed he saw a Merman, off the coast of Carmel, California, and thus, this author, and poet, Dr. Siluk, has taken that as inspiration to write his, epic style poetic narration.  Also, when he was in Equator, at the main museum in Quito he saw a picture of a Merman that was seen and then drawn, and documented, again, off the California Coast, sometime during the 1920s, and when the author was in Malta, he heard stories of them likewise dating back to the 14th Century, seen by folks living in a large mammoth cave like quarters: a kind of gypsy people of those far-off days.  Hence, legend keeps coming up, and so this is an extraction from all those experiences, encounters in his travels.  #3351 ((5-10-2012) (reedited, 5-29-2012)) the poem is seven pages long, #3149-words.

#945’ The Play was written August 5 thru…2012, adopted from the Poetic Narrative poem by the same name and author “Merman” is in essence, 29-double spaced pages (15-single spaced ages), and 5637- words.