Scorched Scales
A Dystopian Mermaid Romance

For mature readers. Explicit sexual content. Contains profanity and dark themes. (18+)

Hunter's Dream - Chapter One

Great Meteor Seamount, North Atlantic Ocean, August 14th, 2138

The sea was lessening for as long as Braith could remember. Lately, the saltwater of the North Atlantic Ocean seemed to evaporate by the hour, sometimes by the minute. The merfolk community was in a panic as they struggled to survive in a trough of the Great Meteor Seamount, one of the few places where water would still pool.


Many had perished due to lack of oxygen, dehydration, and starvation caused by subsisting on sun-scorched, dead seaweed. Although copious amounts existed on the arid seabed, nutrition was minimal.


The stench of death was everywhere. Maggots and disease covered the carcasses of mermaids, mermen, whales, fish, and crustaceans strewn across the ridges and valleys. Moaning and wailing echoed in the canyons, carried by hot, dusty winds. The remaining community tried to ration sea water and marine plants, but hunger overcame most merfolk, preventing them from taking notice.


Braith’s tail was itching constantly, the only salve mud and slime, most of which became useless as it baked under a scorching sun. Except for passing cloud banks, shade was nonexistent. The seamount was a desert, one not dared trekked by merfolk without water. As Braith rubbed her torturous itch, pieces of dried, bloody scale stuck to her webbed hands.


The end of their world was near. Thoughts of imminent death permeated their existence. It was Braith’s turn for rations as she crawled among caked, dead flora, her mouth a beacon for the sea. With little strength left in her arms, she pulled herself into the water, covering her body in brine. With sheer relief, she breathed in a lungful of saltwater and plankton.

Gasping, coughing, feeling like she was choking, Hunter woke up with a start. She couldn’t get enough air and realized her heart was racing and her head was pounding. “Where the fuck did that dream come from?” she whispered in a breathless voice. “Dream, hell, that was a nightmare.”


“You okay?” Isaac grumbled. “Go back to sleep.” With that, he rolled over, pulling the covers along with him. Typical Isaac, Hunter thought. No, she was not okay. That dream felt so real. Realizing sleep would elude her, she grabbed her robe and went downstairs to the kitchen.


Her hands trembled as she filled a glass with water and drank it as if her life depended on it. “I must have had too much salt or something,” Hunter mumbled to herself. Thinking of the Mandarin takeout Isaac picked up after work, she realized it could have been an overload of MSG. She swiped her phone and googled “bad dreams from Chinese food,” and found that too much spice can cause nightmares. “Okay, no more Chinese for me.”


With that, she shut off the light and made her way upstairs.

*  *  *

It was a cool spring morning in Portland, Maine. Hunter found a parking space on bustling Commercial Street, two blocks from Deland-Coates Financial Services where she worked in the accounting department. Seagulls soared above, their raucous cawing distracting her from thoughts of the dream. As she made her way along the historic district, the timeless beauty of Portland’s brick architecture resonated with her. It was as if each building whispered stories of the people who once lived and worked within their walls.

The tranquility of her morning stroll was short-lived. Sitting at her windowless cubicle in the office, Hunter was having trouble concentrating on the spreadsheets in front of her. She couldn’t get beyond the dream.


“Penny for your thoughts.” Startled out of her daze, Hunter looked up into the smiling face of Shelley, her long arms folded over the cubicle wall.


“Inflation, my friend. A penny will no longer do, especially here in the accounting department.”


“Oh, now you’re a smart-ass, huh?” Shelley was a tall, exotic-looking woman in her mid-30s, with flawless bronze skin and shimmering tawny hair. Men lusted after her, and women envied her. She had a habit of being blunt. “Looks like I caught you in the middle of the perfect fantasy. Who was he?”


“I only wish it were that. I had the strangest dream last night and I can’t seem to shake it. Do you ever have weird dreams, I mean the kind that seem so real but don’t make sense?”


“Yeah, every day I wake up to the nightmare of coming into the office.”


“Seriously, Shel, do you?”


“You mean prophetic-type dreams, like something’s about to happen?”


“Sort of, or maybe already did?”
They heard footsteps and scurrying as a deep voice bellowed, “Good morning, team!”


“Oh crap, boss alert. Listen, we haven’t had a drink together in a while. How about meeting at Tumblers after work? You can tell me all about it.”

*  *  *

As Shelley and Hunter sipped their drinks, the ambience of Tumblers enveloped them in a warm and inviting atmosphere. Soft, dimmed lighting cast a gentle glow, creating an intimate setting where conversations flowed. They shared a laugh as they discussed the quirky and interesting people they worked with, joking about how they would do things differently if they were in charge.


When talk of water-cooler gossip and office politics dwindled, Hunter realized she needed to talk about the dream. “Shel, I had the strangest dream last night.”


“Yeah, you mentioned it earlier. What happened?”


“I know it sounds weird, but I saw mermaids living in a place with no water. They were dying. There were dead whales and fish. There was one mermaid in particular that crawled to a shallow pool of water and immersed herself and drank. And then I woke up coughing and feeling like I was choking.”


“Holy shit! You sure you didn’t have one too many of those?” pointing to Hunter’s margarita.


“No, no, nothing like that. Too much Chinese food, maybe. I read that a lot of spices can bring on nightmares.”


“Maybe. Were you watching any weird shit on television last night?” Hunter shook her head as they both sipped on their drinks. “Wait a minute, I know!” Shelley had a sly smile on her lips. “Mermaids have long, thick, undulating tails. What does that sound like to you? Either you’re getting too much, or you’re not getting enough. What’s happening with you and Isaac in the sack?”


“Oh Christ, Shel, it wasn’t an erotic dream. It scared the crap out of me.”


“According to Freud, phallic symbols appear in many forms.”

“Get over it, Shel, this is not about fucking. And Isaac and I are just fine, thank you very much.”


“Or maybe it was a prophetic dream. You should have a tarot reading and find out.”


“A tarot reading? I don’t know. I’m not into that.”


“But you’re troubled about it, aren’t you? You mentioned it at work this morning. It’s after five and you’re still thinking about a dream you had last night. Most dreams don’t stay with you throughout the day. Hell, half the time you don’t remember them at all, and here you are still talking about it. Yes, a tarot reading is in order and I know someone who’s experienced at it. I’ll text her to see if she can fit you in.”


Before Hunter could refuse, Shelley was already texting into her phone. Too late, Hunter thought as she reluctantly agreed.

As they were leaving Tumblers and walking to their cars, Shelley’s phone pinged. “Good news! Desiree can fit you in on Saturday afternoon at 2:00 pm.”


Desiree. Oh, great. Hunter could picture her in cheap jewels with a veil draped over her head, waving her hands around a crystal ball. “Just what I need,” Hunter said to herself.

The Tarot Reading - Chapter Two

Hunter parked her car in the narrow driveway of a delightful two-story Victorian house nestled in Portland’s Deering neighborhood. She gazed at the intricate gables, gingerbread trim, and stained glass windows adorning Desiree’s shingle-sided residence. There must be money in tarot, thought Hunter, as she stepped onto a broad porch with ornate railings and trellises of climbing vines. She pushed the bell on the carved oak door. A pleasing melody of chimes rang out as the door opened.


“You must be Hunter. I’m Desiree. Wonderful to meet you. Please come in.”


Desiree didn’t look remotely close to what she had been imagining—no talisman, no robes or veils. She had her chestnut-brown highlighted hair cut into a smart bob. She wore jeans and a pretty beige crochet top. Her only jewelry was a thin gold band worn on the middle finger of her right hand. She had a pleasant demeanor. Hunter found herself relieved.


Desiree led Hunter through a hallway astride a staircase and into a cozy room with a round table, bookcases, Tiffany lamps, and serene landscape paintings. A dark blue velvet cloth covered the table. An ornate card deck sat on the cloth.


“Hunter, have you ever had a tarot reading?”


“This is my first time. I’ll be a hundred percent honest with you. I’m not sure I buy into all this...”


“Hocus Pocus?” Desiree interjected.


“Doesn't it make sense to believe in something in order for it to work? If you didn’t believe in God, for instance, you wouldn’t be praying to him or her.”


“You believe in yourself, don’t you?”


“Myself? Yes, I guess. I trust myself, if that’s what you mean.”


“Tarot has different meanings for different people. Some see it as divination or fortune-telling. I see it as access to your subconscious mind, or higher self, also referred to as the super-conscious. Still others call it God, the universe, spirit, angels—take your pick. I don’t believe that I read you. I’m not a soothsayer, shapeshifter, medium, or any other new-age term of endearment. Tarot is an ancient practice. I interpret the cards you’ve selected, perhaps not consciously, but the inner part of you that perceives beyond what our conscious minds can see. What brought you here today? What are you curious about?”


“I had a weird dream this past week and I can’t get it out of my head.” Hunter described the mermaid, the evaporated ocean, the death, and the fear she felt upon awakening, and how vivid it all was.


“Okay, if you’re comfortable, let’s begin.” As Desiree shuffled the deck, Hunter again found herself relieved she wasn’t chanting or summoning up the dead. “Let’s begin with a simple three-card spread for dream interpretation.” She pulled three cards, lying them face down in a row on the velvet cloth. “The first card interprets the cause of the dream.”


As Desiree turned the first card over, Hunter was taken aback by an image depicting the grim reaper. “Oh no, am I dying?”

“That’s not what this card means. Death implies a change in your life, or the end of something.”


Desiree revealed the second card, unveiling its hidden meaning. “The tower symbolizes the unexpected downfall of something secure or familiar, accompanied by a sudden revelation.”


“This is curious. The third card interprets how to move on from the dream. Your third card is the moon, which represents mystery, the subconscious, and dreams. I interpret this as transitioning into an unknown realm where mysteries await, or it could signify further dreams, or it could even suggest it was merely a dream."


“Okay, I’m confused. Make that very confused.”


“Taken all together, your dream represents a change in your life with a departure from what is familiar to you that involves your dreams and/or your subconscious mind.”


“Departure from what? What change?”


“Only you can know that, Hunter. This isn’t a crystal ball. Tarot is a metaphor for the subconscious. Don’t become overwhelmed by your first reading or think it wasn’t helpful to you. I recommend taking some time to contemplate these interpretations and see if they resonate with you.”


“Yeah, that seems logical.”


“Don’t try to figure it all out. Let it unfold to you.”


Hunter thanked Desiree and left, a jumble of thoughts circulating through her head as she walked to her car. Thankfully, the first tarot reading was free, but Hunter wasn’t sure this was something she wanted to pursue.


In fact, she was ready to wash her hands of the whole thing and forget about that fucking dream.

* * *

Isaac was flipping through channels with the remote, never settling on any show. “For chrissake, Isaac, find something to watch!” He glanced over and gave Hunter a half-hearted smirk while continuing to surf.

Hunter Sinclair and Isaac Faraday had been roommates for nearly a year. They crossed paths at Hunter’s workplace, where Isaac worked as an independent contractor for the IT department. Their dating history had its trials until they made the bold move of living together. They maintained an exclusive relationship, but it resembled more of a friends-with-benefits arrangement rather than a passionate love affair. At the moment, that arrangement suited them. Who knows? Maybe they would discover a deeper love for each other.


“All right, that’s it. I’m hitting the hay,” yawned Isaac. "You coming?"

“In a few minutes. Let me finish my cocoa.”


“Don’t be long, baby.” With that, Isaac kissed Hunter on the lips, licked his and said, “Yum, chocolate,” and made his way upstairs to the bedroom.


Hunter thought of the tarot reading earlier, pondered Desiree’s applied meaning, and wondered if it meant a change in her relationship with Isaac. They enjoyed one another, had a good sex life, but was it love? Tired of analyzing the situation, she finished her cocoa, turned out the light, and went upstairs to bed.


"Mmm, you smell nice," Isaac whispered from the comfort of the bed as he nestled behind Hunter, wrapping his arms around her waist. She liked the feel of his body cuddled with hers—it felt safe. He stroked her belly and moved his hands up to her breasts as he fondled and squeezed her nipples and kissed the back of her neck. Hunter felt him growing against her as he slid his hand down her teddy into the waistband of her panties. She gasped as he tantalized her with his fingers until she couldn’t bear it any longer and let the orgasm thunder through her body. Isaac slipped off her panties, pulled off his boxers, lifted Hunter to her knees, and rammed into her so hard from behind that she had to brace herself against the wall. She matched his rhythm, and together they pumped and moaned back and forth until Isaac stiffened deep inside her, let out a hoarse, long groan of pleasure, and fell onto Hunter’s back.


Maybe she wasn’t in love with Isaac, but she sure loved having sex with him. Cuddling up against him, she closed her eyes and fell into a sound sleep.

Braith swam through a narrow stream nestled between the barren peaks of dusty seamounts. A shadow of its former grandeur, the stream channeled into a wider pool where she could stay beneath the surface for longer periods of time.


Her world had been eclipsed—mountains hidden beneath the sea were now dusty, scorching desert ranges touching a blue sky under a searing sun.


To escape the gloom of this unfamiliar reality, Braith swam in every direction, unleashing her built-up muscle tension. With a determined push, she dove to the bottom of the shallow pool, seeking solace. How she longed for the former fathoms of her past dives. Her body ached for the deep as fatigue overcame the unused muscles of her tail.


In the shadow of a seamount, Braith rested her weary body on an outcropped rock. Thoughts of drought-stricken oceans consumed her, as worry used up even more of the low energy that plagued her. She heard something fall behind her. Turning, she saw nothing but the arid, forlorn landscape of the once lush seafloor.


Another tumbling sound got her attention and this time she wondered whether the seamount was giving way. She shaded her eyes and looked up. Something moved. But what? There wasn’t much life left on this scorched earth. Most marine mammals and fish were dead or dying, along with a large population of merfolk.
Satisfied that it was just a rock, Braith felt refreshed enough to dive back in and free her tail and fins. She spun and swam, circling her body around and around, her crusty scales coming alive again along with her spirit.


With a twist of her tail, she surfaced, and for a brief surprised moment made eye contact with a figure standing on the bank. Panicked, she dove in and circled around, remaining just below the surface as she peered at the figure. It was a man, one of the merbryds—a human and merfolk mutation with legs instead of tails. They remained in various stages of development, with webbed hands, legs, and feet.


There were growing communities of merbryds, and they were dangerous. Braith had heard the tales of rape, pillage, and murder among humans and merfolk. Her heart was pounding and her mind racing. Fear paralyzed her body. She had to flee, but where? If she went back the way she came, she would risk exposure in the shallow stream. It was best to stay here and hide below the surface.


Merbryds had lost most of their ability to breathe underwater. If she stayed in motion near the sandy bottom, he would run out of air coming in after her.


With wary eyes, she watched him. He wore dusty boots that covered his webbed feet. She could see him peering into the water, shading his eyes from the sun with his webbed hands.

He was looking for her.

Alarmed, Hunter shot up from her sleep to a sitting position, panic-stricken with fear. Now what? Another nightmare? “God, I must be losing my mind.”


“What?” mumbled Isaac. “You were just having a bad dream.”


“It was the mermaid I saw before, and she was in danger.” Hunter didn’t know whether to sit there and cry, or dissolve the haze of sleep with some stupid, mind-numbing television show.


TV won out. Hunter flipped through channels, not satisfied with any show. She couldn’t shake the dream from her mind. The memory of the man on the bank haunted her.


Why did it feel like this was happening to her?

"Scorched Scales" © 2026 Aerwyna