The Changing Seas Part 1

 The was a series commissioned on DeviantArt

Evan never meant to become the “Mermaid Guy.” He’d gone to art school to design shoes. Somehow, ten years later, he was Senior Visual Concept Engineer at AquaLure, the global water brand that believed hydration required mythological undertones. Every bottle, billboard, and TV spot was graced with the same ethereal figure: a mermaid, half-shadowed, tail glinting like bottled starlight. “She embodies purity, mystery, and desire,” declared AquaLure’s CEO, Miranda DeValle, every Monday morning. “She is our soul.”

Evan usually muttered, “She’s mostly neoprene and glue.” He was the one who’d built her tail—an engineering marvel of silicone scales and fishing wire. The “mermaid silhouette” wasn’t a real person, just Evan zipped into his creation and lit from behind. The secret was in the curve: he’d sculpted it after studying how light refracted through plastic water bottles. The result? Instant mystique. And instant career trap. Now every meeting was about “channelling mermaid essence.” He’d been asked to “make the tail sexier” three times that week alone.

On Thursday, Miranda burst into the workshop waving a storyboard. “We’re shooting the new ‘Call of the Deep’ campaign tomorrow. Real waves, real beach, no filters. I want emotion. I want transcendence. I want commitment,” Miranda snapped at Evan. “Bring the prototype fin.”

So the next day, under blackening clouds, Evan stood ankle-deep in churning surf, holding a clipboard that was rapidly becoming papier-mâché and lounged on a rock while drones buzzed overhead.

“Can we get more sparkle on the tail?” Miranda yelled from the beach tent.

“It’s raining sideways!”

“That’s realism!”

The storm hit fast. The wind howled. The ocean surged up like a beast that had had enough of marketing metaphors. Evan shrieked as a wave slapped the rock he was on and he lunged forward, trying to grab a hand-hold before he and the expensive fin were washed away. The next moment, a swirl of grey-green foam and salt punched him in the chest and yanked him from the beach.

He glimpsed Miranda’s horrified face, the tail glimmering in midair, the drones spinning out of control. For one absurd instant, as he tumbled into the boiling sea, he thought: At least the lighting’s cinematic. Salt filled his mouth. Sound vanished. His clipboard twirled past like a surrendering flag.

The last thing he saw was a flash of turquoise beneath the waves—something smooth, sinuous, almost welcoming.

Then the ocean closed over him, and the campaign’s tagline drifted through his fading thoughts like a cruel joke: “AquaLure: Let the sea take you.”