Introducing the Mélusine: A Mystery

Chicken sandwiches for dinner anyone?

There’s a joke that Carlo likes to make about me not liking to eat sandwiches for dinner. While that may be true sometimes, the chicken sandwich in this story is one I would eat every night. It’s based on a sandwich from a burger place in a small town in Washington and I hope you’ll make it. Without further ado, here is the second half of “Something In The Water.” If you missed part 1 (or need a refresh) read it here. Happy eating!
-Cerise

Something in the Water continued

The rest of the evening passed slowly. I interviewed crew members asking about large fish in the area or if they’d seen anything unusual in the water; most people gave me eye rolls. I Googled “large fish Indian Ocean” back in my room but didn’t find anything resembling what I saw. I looked up the shell too, searching “orange shell Indian Ocean” which yielded mostly unhelpful articles about shells found on various islands. There was one old article that was a scan from a book that had a black and white drawing that looked similar to the shell, but it was hard to tell. 

A knock on my door startled me as I realized it was already time for dinner. A crew member waited on the other side of the door with a rolling table covered in plates with silver lids. I thanked her but she hesitated before leaving the room. 

“Some of the crew said you were asking about a large fish?” she said with an accent I couldn’t quite place. I nodded and waited to see what she was going to say. “I come from a small island in the Seychelles and grew up hearing stories about what you say is a large fish and what some call Mélusine. Perhaps you can research that and see if it’s what you saw.”

She turned to leave. “Wait, wait,” I said, trying to gather my thoughts. I put a hand up to my forehead and rubbed my temple. “Have you seen this Mélusine fish thing in person?” 

She stopped in the doorframe and looked back over her shoulder. “The Mélusine is not something you wish to see.”

As I ate my grilled chicken sandwich and fries in bed, I tried not to let the mayo sauce dribbling along my pinky drip my keyboard. I had at least twenty tabs open on my computer searching for this Mélusine fish and what seemed like no leads. I sighed while chewing the last bite of soft sesame bun and juicy chicken. Most of what I found dated back to the Middle Ages and were depictions of a scary looking mermaid, nothing like Ariel. She was described as the size of a tall woman and having metal-like scales. But most of the stories took place in rivers and lakes, not the ocean. Plus, I was pretty sure that if there were mermaids in the Indian Ocean way more people would know about it. It was an absurd thing to consider, but the fact that I was wasting time searching for some island folklore made me realize just how miserable I had been on this trip. I slammed my laptop shut and pushed my plate of scraps to the end of the bed before laying back on a mountain of pillows behind me. 

Barely any of the guests wanted to talk to me and as soon as I got out my notebook they would leave, or those that did talk to me were usually drunk and only interested in a one night fling. Cell service was terrible, not that I had that many people waiting for me back home, and the only normal conversations I had were with my boss at the end of every week when I would report on what was happening via video call. This shell had been the only spark of something interesting in a month and now I would have to turn all of the information I had over to Griselda. I would have to find a way around the verbal agreement we had made earlier otherwise I would have literally nothing to write about at the end of this trip and I would be fired. Or at least I assumed I would be fired, considering this was the only assignment I was given for the opportunity to write something groundbreaking on Griselda or any of the guests. My brain was swimming with thoughts of not being able to pay rent, of that month post college when I had to eat ramen noodles every night. I couldn’t lose this story with Griselda. I cleaned up and tried to get ready for the night. 

By ten o’clock, I had changed into jeans and a t-shirt and had my phone, notebook, and a flashlight ready to go. A single sharp knock resonated through my room. I took a deep breath and opened the door. Griselda was also dressed casually, at least for her, in black wide leg trousers and a black tank top. She motioned for me to lead the way. I led us down some stairs and down a few hallways until I found the same door to the small deck on the lowest level just a few feet above the water. The door was propped open as it had been every night and when I stepped out the ocean air was thick and warm around me. 

“Is there a way to turn off this light? There isn’t a light switch anywhere,” I said, pointing behind us to the light on the wall. 

Out of her small bag, Griselda took a phone and clicked some buttons before saying, “Please turn off light, bottom deck, door fifty-four, over.”

“Copy, turning off light, bottom deck, door fifty-four, over,” said a voice from the other side. Then the light was out. It was dark, but there was enough moonlight and stars for us to see around the small area.

“Oh, I also brought these,” she said, pulling out a small bag of cookies, the same from the night before. “One for you.” She handed me a cookie, smirking slightly. “One for me.” She took a bite out of one. “And one for the water,” she said as she dropped a cookie into the ocean. A satisfying plunk echoed onto the deck, then was replaced again by the waves hitting the side of the ship. We were both quiet as we stared over the railing, chewing our cookies and looking into the depths. There wasn’t anything there that we could see. 

“You know, that article you wrote a few years ago comparing fashion trends, climate change, and the unattainable perfection of being a woman was one of the best think pieces I had read in years.” 

My eyebrows shot up on my forehead. That piece was published over five years ago and not online. “How did you read it?”

“I get copies of all the big newspapers and magazines in the mail. But I read that other piece you wrote following the nomadic trails of the Apache and the last medicine woman in the area on my phone a few weeks ago. The ending was heartbreakingly honest.” 

“Thank you,” I said, my voice came out scratchy. I shook my head laughing slightly at my surprise, of course she would have done her homework on me. “Have you read everything I’ve ever written?”

“Maybe not everything. You’re a great writer and that’s why I wanted you here. You write the truth in such a way that can’t help but be believed.” She looked over at me, but I could only see half her face in the moonlight. “You’re here for a reason. I needed someone with your ability to see the truth. But since you said you were here by yourself, maybe silence would be beneficial for this experiment.” 

“Sure,” I said, understanding my role in this experiment. I was the control and Griselda was the variable. The glimpse she had shared into her private life through my writing illuminated just how much research and reading she must do, which meant she probably had a lot more to tell me than what we talked about earlier. I decided to wait instead of pressing her and see what she would tell me.

After about five minutes of silence, Griselda sighed. “How long did you say you were down here before the shell showed up?”

“I didn’t . . . I smoked a cigarette . . . then I ate one cookie and then was here for maybe another ten or fifteen. I wasn’t really in a rush to get back to my room,” I said, turning towards her, raising an eyebrow. “What exactly are you hoping to see?”

“You will laugh at me and call me crazy.” Griselda shook her head and her long hair swept around her shoulders like a shawl. “I think I might be crazy as well.”

“Well I’m not a therapist but talking to a journalist could be a good reality check.” I pulled my phone out once again and hit record. “Do you mind?” I asked, motioning to the bright screen. 

Griselda sighed. “No, record away as long as you only use it for the report.” I nodded. “I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this but some part of me trusts you. Probably against my better judgment but here we are. . . .” She took a deep breath. “When I was a young girl, I was on a work trip with my family on a ship much larger than this one. I had followed my father around as much as he would allow, trailing him from meeting to meeting. One afternoon while we were in the captain’s quarters, I noticed a shell on the captain’s desk. Not unlike the one you found here. He told me a story about a creature that lives in the water and has for the last century. I then spent the rest of the trip searching the water for the creature he spoke of.” Griselda paused and glanced back over at me. 

I kept my face neutral as I said, “The Mélusine?”

She pursed her lips slightly. “That is one name for her. The story is that she was a beautiful woman who was cursed to transform once a week into part serpent part woman, but if someone were to see her in that form she would not be able to return to her human form.” 

“If this is the same thing that I was reading about, they were only in fresh water though.”

“Yes, that is the question. How did she adapt to oceans from fresh water? Was she forced to leave where she lived because of us?” Griselda hung her head down and closed her eyes for a moment. She looked over at me and shook her head. I could tell she was trying to decide whether to continue. “I saw her once . . . from a distance many years ago during this same crossing. Or at least I think I did.” A hard laugh erupted from her. “I have been searching for her ever since. 

“I have done so much research and collected accounts and stories. I have sent out research voyages and been on many ships as an adult to try and find her, and the irony is that they probably all pushed her away into hiding. The pollution I’ve caused by my curiosity.” A sharp laugh erupted from her, then she stopped and sighed. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that we haven’t seen a single other ship, even in the distance, on this voyage?” I nodded. “Well that’s because I paid everyone that I needed to keep as few ships in the water over these three months as possible. I also put a ton of money into making this ship self sufficient and green and blah blah blah. But it was all for my insatiable desire to see her again . . .” Her hands gripped the guard rail metal tightly. “I’ve never seen anyone else with the same shell though. When I saw you holding it this morning, it took everything in me not to tackle you for information.” 

I took a deep breath, deciding whether I should question this undeniably smart woman about this insane theory she had, or if I should play along and see where it would go. But how could she not be crazy, believing in myths as an adult while living in a fairy tale where everything is at your fingertips. It would be so easy for her to pursue the mythical with an unlimited budget. 

“I know you are wondering whether or not to tell me I’m insane. I know you are calculated and logical, but that you also have a heart. You don’t have to reveal your hand to me, but I do ask for honesty at the end of all this.” Our eyes locked for a moment before she looked back out at the water.

“Let’s try dropping in another piece of cookie,” I said instead of blurting out all the potential holes in her story and questioning her spending millions on a myth. Mermaids were just stories sailors told to pass the time and a way to explain women that were more than capable of surviving the world on their own. They weren’t real.

Griselda dropped another cookie into the ocean. The night was quiet again as we both stared into the dark water, the moon glinting off of the waves in the distance. It was a beautiful picture, so I stopped the voice recording and clicked on the camera intending to take one to document this bizarre evening. When I looked down, I could see a shadow in the water. It got bigger as it rose to the surface. I started taking a video just in case as I glanced over at Griselda leaning far over the railing, her feet almost off of the deck. 

“Should we shine my flashlight on it or keep it dark?” I whispered not knowing what it might be. It could just be a regular old fish, but something in my gut tightened and my heart rate ticked up. The air felt different somehow, like the atmosphere was trying to tell us something.

“Wait a moment,” she whispered back. We both held our breath as Griselda once again dropped part of a cookie into the water. But before it hit the water something reached out and grabbed the cookie. It was a hand and arm. It was inky in the moonlight and shimmered rainbow in the limited light. The fingers were long and elegant though slimy. Then it was back in the water. My breathing was shallow, goosebumps rose all over my arms, and my hands shook. Griselda was locked in her position leaning over the rail. Slowly, she reached one of her hands down towards where we had seen the hand shoot out of the water. The shadow under the water was still there gliding silently against the side of the ship. Then a tail flipped up out of the water and slapped Griselda’s arm before it disappeared under the waves. We were both frozen in the quiet like statues in a cemetery. If we moved would it break this dream?

My hands finally stopped shaking, but I kept my phone video recording pointed at Griselda, focused on the railing and the vastness of the ocean. 

She finally brought her wet arm back over the railing. “That was her,” she whispered, facing the water and cradling her arm. In the dim light it looked like her arm was growing a welt. I kept my mouth shut, whatever was going through Griselda’s head was far more fascinating than my own. “I can’t believe she likes cookies. She was right in front of me and I have proof.” The moon lit her face and I could see tears, silvery and sparkling, trailing down her cheeks as she looked down at her forearm and hand where puffy red lines were rising on her skin. I stopped recording. “I need that video. Please don’t publish that. We need to protect her.” Each sentence was interrupted by a crack in Griselda’s voice that tugged at my heart instead of my head. We stared at each other for a long moment both of our breathing loud and in time with the waves. 

“I won’t,” I finally said, my voice raspy. My skin felt cold and clammy. “We will protect her.” 

---

The Chronicle - Monday, October 14th 

Something In The Water: Griselda Marconi Opens Up

When Griselda Marconi was a little girl, she traveled with her family on business trips around the world often for months at a time. On one of these trips, she met a captain who told her a story about a shell and a creature that lived in the ocean beyond the reach of humans.

It went a bit like this: if you look out at the ocean at the right time when the waves are even and the moonlight is shimmering and moving with them, you might have the blessed opportunity to witness something special. A creature lives in the depths, far away from humankind’s desire to know the unknowable and ruin that which still exists out of our reach in the water. This creature is smarter than us, has adapted to the changing climate, and has somehow thrived despite our best efforts at destroying their habitat. This creature is what the captain told Griselda Marconi to look for as a child on the ship deck gazing out at the endless ocean. Little did he know he was talking to the future steward of that mythical creature he spoke of.

While our dreams as children often fade, Griselda’s have only strengthened and pushed her to take Marconi Enterprises into the future. A company that once only ran on oil and fossil fuels now uses fully renewable energy, protecting our oceans and forests, and putting the human species on the same level as all other creatures on this planet. 

“As the highest beings on the food chain, it is our duty to take care of all other beings on this planet. It is our fault the problem has gotten to the point where microplastics are in everything and unbearably hot summers are inescapable. Marconi Enterprises is trying to undo what our older generations have done and make a more stable and beautiful world. At least that’s always been the end goal,” Griselda said to me as we sat on the deck of her fully renewable-energy-powered ship sailing across the Indian Ocean.

Grilled Chicken Sandwich

Makes 4 sandwiches

Ingredients
1 shallot, thinly sliced
2 lemons, juiced
1 tablespoon kosher salt, plus more for seasoning
1 small head of iceberg lettuce, thinly sliced
¼ cup mayonnaise, preferably Kewpie 
Freshly ground black pepper
4 buns with sesame seeds or brioche
Sliced cheddar cheese
1 tablespoon olive oil or vegetable oil
4 chicken breasts, butterflied

In a medium bowl, marinate the thinly sliced shallots in half of the lemon juice and ½ tablespoon of salt. Set aside for a few minutes. Then add the lettuce, mayonnaise, and the remaining lemon juice. Mix thoroughly until the shallots and lettuce are fully coated in the sauce. Season with salt and pepper and adjust for seasoning. Set aside. 

Cut the buns in half and place a slice of cheddar on each bottom bun. Transfer the buns to a plate and set aside.

Heat a medium skillet to medium-high and add the oil. Generously season the chicken with salt and pepper and add the breasts to the skillet two at a time, making sure not to crowd the pan. Cook the chicken on one side for 2 to 3 minutes or until the breasts have browned. Flip and continue cooking the chicken on the other side for another 2 to 3 minutes. Once the chicken has browned on both sides, transfer each breast onto the bottom half of the buns, resting on the cheese; this allows the cheese to melt. Add the lettuce and shallot slaw on top of the chicken and press close with the top bun. Serve.