Tales of Magic

Gemma Brown knew some things would never happen. She knew because her parents and friends told her so. She knew that she could never become the Queen of America. She knew that by sitting on the floor wishing very hard wasn't going to make a chocolate bar appear in her fist. She also knew that by wanting a million bucks all she did was want. She didn't do a thing to make it happen.
But was this all true? Was it possible that believing hard enough could make things happen? Gemma Brown now knew it was.
They were visiting the beach. The others in their little group complained about how dreary it was. Max and his friends swept through the beach on high speed, grabbing up interesting shells and smooth stones to stash in their pockets. Then they sat down on the towels brought from home and moaned about how boring this was.
Gemma loved this beach. It was unlike any shown on television, unlike any spoken of by her friends at school. This place was magnificent. It was nearly always cloudy when they went there, and sometimes a light drizzle would mist down from the sky--a sky that always seemed so close. Today was no different. The setting sun couldn't even be glimpsed through the thick grey clouds, and Gemma embraced the loveliness of the scene before her. Heavy waves crashed upon the shore, and she thought how she would miss it when they went home, just like she always did.
Flicking her long hair back she ran forward again to meet those waves. She ignored her mother's call that they would be leaving soon, and kept going into the water. When it was deep enough, Gemma Brown sank under the surface, a smile on her face.
As the water buffeted her about, she still smiled. Her arms and hands were outstretched as though holding onto that precious force. In the back of her mind was the desire to be a part of the water, to take form in the water, a creature that could live and breathe under the surface.
Without a single doubt in her mind, her heart, or even her soul, she wished again with all her might that she could be a part of the water. For the past seven years, she had done the same thing every time she was in the water, even in the bathtub! And over those seven years, all doubts were washed away with the water she so longed to be a part of. There wasn't a single piece of her that didn't think she could be a creature of the depths. Not anymore.
Gemma knew, had known for a while, that for something to happen, you can't just sit there and wish it, unless for psychic powers. They had to have something to build off of, something to originate from, then--and only then--could they appear.
Most other people would have given up their dreams if it took them seven years of wishing, with no certainty of it happening even then. But Gemma never gave up. Most other people would have "grown" out of their wishes, thinking them childish and silly to ever hope for such things. But Gemma never grew out of her hopes.
And now, she knew, was the time. She had given the water its starting point, by coming here, by learning to swim until she could do it without thinking for hours. She had pushed herself, learning how to breathe properly to be able to stay under the water. She had exercised and, most importantly, believed. And now, in this water, she was going to call all of those seven years of effort into the culmination, she was going to call it into being. At last.
Gemma opened her eyes, and looked around. Though the water was filled with silt and other materials from the shallow ocean floor, she could see past that to the open water, to the places without all that gunk clogging it up. She kicked herself up off the sand, and dove forward, into the deeper waters. She swam for it, craving it, needing to see clearer.
Finally she broke into the clear space, and looked down. Even though she had never been able to see very far down even with her goggles, today she could see all the way down the sudden drop-off of the sea floor, seeing the gradual increase of darkness, but yet able to make out details. She looked ahead, and saw the world before her, saw the wonderful world of water.
Gliding through the water like she had done it all her life, Gemma swam further than she ever had before. She swam longer than she had ever done before, and just smiled.

*

Mr. and Mrs. Brown had sent a missing person's report across the country. They refused to think she had drowned. There was just no way. Gemma was fit, she knew how to swim, and she was well practiced in how to move through an ocean. Though ocean experts and the police alike told them that no matter how good a person was, the ocean could still take a person away on a current, the Browns refused to believe it. Gemma was still alive. She had to be.

Mrs. Brown had never screamed like that before. Mr. Brown was out of his bedroom and by her side in under five seconds--and that was crossing the entire length of the house.
She was just standing there at the window, gripping the curtains, screaming. Mr. Brown grabbed her, looking frantically out the window for the source of such fright.
Gemma Brown was standing at the little picket fence at the front of the yard, her hands resting lightly on the top bar. A small smile was on her face, and her wet hair straggled down to her hips, dripping down onto the sidewalk.
"Gemma!" Mr. Brown yelled, leaping from the porch to his daughter's side.
"Hello, Dad," she said in a soft voice. Mr. Brown looked down on his daughter's face, taking in how pale she was. Her eyes were larger, physically, taking up more of her face, and her pupils were wide. The day was extremely cloudy and it was sunset, so it wasn't too bright for her.
She wore a tiny dress of some silky transparent material. Mr. Brown had never seen such fabric in all his years working at for a clothes company. She was barefoot, and her fingers and feet were longer, stronger, and slightly webbed. Mr. Brown shook his head refusing to accept what he was seeing.
"Shall we go see Mummy?" Gemma asked, stepping soundlessly around her gaping father to the gate. She left no footprints, though her whole body was drenched in water. Mr. Brown smelt the sea, salt, and seaweed, as well as peculiar spicy scent that lingered longer than the other smells....
Mrs. Brown sank into a chair. She had never been a weak woman or prone to fits of any kind, but she just might start doing it now. Her daughter, missing for two years, was standing before her, a creature from the deeps.
Her fingers and toes were webbed a little, and her whole body was toned to a sleek version Mrs. Brown had never seen a person achieve. Gemma's long blonde hair was longer by two feet than the last time she'd seen her daughter, down around her hips, and the small dress Gemma was wearing was completely indecent. The neighbors were probably calling the authorities for public nudity or some such nonsense.
Mr. Brown had followed his daughter in in a daze. Max wasn't home yet, wasn't due for twenty minutes more. Gemma was dripping a perfect circle around her feet onto the new carpet--salt water. Neither parent cared. Gemma was home.
"I'm back for three weeks, Mummy, Dad." Gemma said in her quiet voice--a voice that likely hadn't been used in two years.
"WHAT?!?!" Mrs. Brown shrieked, leaping from her chair. "No! You have to stay! You can't leave again! Who took you? We'll find them, and you don't have to return ever."
"Oh, he's easy to find, Mummy," Gemma said, her eyes twinkling. Mrs. Brown gaped.
"He's called Ocean. He's all around us, and is now a part of me. I don't think he'll fit in a cell, though, I'm sorry..." Mr. Brown started. Her sense of humour hadn't left! Mrs. Brown was shaking her head.
"You should see the wonders, Mummy. There is so much the scientists have yet to find. I don't think they'll find them anytime soon though. And it isn't called Atlantis." She added as an afterthought. "It's beautiful, all silvery and polished. People always depict all gold and lots of coral, but it's all shining silver and pearls. Great nets of fine metals and gems that Poseidon's daughters take out to catch the drowned sailors' souls to bring them to Paradise..."
Mrs. Brown was weeping, and stunned, and feeling like she was about to faint any moment now all at the same time. Mr. Brown's legs were feeling wobbly too, and he quickly found himself a chair.
"How did you come to be--" Mrs. Brown whispered, waving vaguely.
"Like this, Mummy? Belief. You just have to believe. They're all right, that you just have to believe, but they always forget to tell you you have to believe completely, no doubts, and you have to try for it. You have to work for it. For seven years I wanted to be a part of the ocean, and now look at me. I finally made it, but how many never find it in them to believe so strongly? How many miss out on what they dream of, because they didn't...." Gemma trailed off, and sat down. In midair. That suddenly had become a small silver chair.
Mr. and Mrs. Brown sat up straight, more stunned than before.
Gemma smiled dreamily, then noticed how they shook.
"It all comes down to belief, Mummy and Dad."
The door slammed open. Max, tall and surly, stomped into the house, and slammed the door shut. His terrible mood vanished abruptly as he came to the living room. His book bag and jacket fell, forgotten.
"G--Gemma?" he whispered. Then Max Brown slumped to the floor in a dead faint.

*

Max awoke in a terrible mood. Stupid Jack...if he only knew what it was like to have your sister drown and have two parents slowly going senile, stubbornly believing that Gemma was going to be found alive and well one day? It had been two achingly long years, and they refused to give up the belief that Gemma would one day return, but Max had known better.
He rolled over on his bed, briefly wondering how he had gotten there, but his thoughts soon returned to idiot Jack. Oh yes, he had deserved that busted lip. He had deserved more than that, but unfortunately school security wasn't what it once was. He'd been grabbed shortly after his fist had connected with the jerk's jaw. He'd gotten off with a stint in the counselor's office, whom he was supposed to go see again every day for the next month.
He saddened a little. He knew he needed it. He needed the counseling. No matter how other people put down therapy, Max knew he should have had it a long time ago, when Gemma had been declared as dead. He'd needed help a while back, and maybe this was fortune's way of getting him it.
Sighing, Max finally opened his eyes, and sat up slowly. He wanted to cry over Gemma all over again, but he couldn't anymore. Sniffling a little all the same, he looked up, thinking he wasn't alone in his room.
"NO WAY!"
Max leapt backwards on his bed, falling over the other side. Jumping up, he backed swiftly away till he felt his back against the wall. His hand felt for the doorknob...
"It's alright Max. I'm back for a little while." Gemma told him, stepping towards him.
He couldn't believe his eyes. There was no way his sister now stood before him, hands outstretched as though to take his. Her hair was longer, and for a moment he thought she wasn't wearing anything. Her body still dripped water, but she looked like she was drying in the air.
Mr. Brown came into the room, removing the necessity of locating the elusive doorknob. Max jumped again at the sudden entrance of his father.
"Dad? Can you see...?"
"Gemma? Why yes. She arrived about twenty minutes before you came home."
"You fainted," Gemma said in her quiet way, coming up to her brother and father.
"I--/what?/" Max said, still pressed up against the wall.
"You fainted, Max, but you're fine now. Would you like to know how I got home, and why I look different now?" she confirmed.
Ever one to get to the point... Max thought dryly.

*

They were having fish. Max's eyes widened as his mother pulled the baked fish from the oven.
"Uh...Mum....Gemma?" he whispered, looking over to where his sister was setting the table. She was wearing an old robe of Mr. Brown's over her dress, since everything else was too rough, and Mrs. Brown wanted her daughter covered a little more while on land.
"Yes dear?" Mrs. Brown asked, plating the fish.
"Wull, isn't that, you know, not good?"
"Whatever do you mean, Max?" Gemma asked, turning around to look at him.
"Isn't that....not good?"
"Why do you eat beef, Max?" she asked in return, puzzling Max.
"Um..."
"Wouldn't that be something you shouldn't do, since it lives on the land with you? Why shouldn't I eat the fish?"
"Oh!" Max said, never having thought of it that way before.
"Besides, I haven't had a burger or pizza in over two years. It wouldn't taste right, and my stomach wouldn't like it now that I've changed..." Gemma turned and set down another glass.

*

"Really good, Mummy!" Gemma said, wiping her mouth, before moving to hug her mother. Gemma's skin was damp, and she kept taking quick showers every thirty minutes or so--just enough to get her sopping wet again. Mrs. Brown hugged back, tears pricking at her eyes, saddened that she would lose this again all too soon. Gemma washed all the dishes by hand with relish--her hands loved the soak in the warm water, soap or not.
After she was done, she hugged everyone good night, and ran off for the bathroom, where she had a tub of water waiting for her as her bed. She locked the door from the inside as a precaution--she didn't think that any of her family members walking in on her asleep in the water, possibly underwater, would be very good for any of them. She sank into the still-warm water, and sighed. This was home. This was as good as life got.

***********