CoffeeBeanShop

Fairy Tail

by Sasha Hammarberg (bio at end of story)

You've seen her. Swathed in green like a fresh, dewy stem in a pristine garden. No matter what city you live in, from New York to Kuwait, Seattle to Singapore, she has at one time or another caught your gaze with her mythical body and familiar face. She lords over the nine white letters like the Queen Mother and we succumb like sycophantic subjects. We see her and know she holds the key to a palatable day. She's the mermaid. Why are she and coffee entwined in our heads? Howard, that's why.

Once upon a time in the temperate town of Seaville, there was a young man named Howard Smugman. Slight of stature, what Howard lacked in size he made up with in charisma and imagination. His mother would often pick him up from grade school to find his classmates wide-eyed and open-mouthed as they listened with rapt attention to the tall-tales he told with the conviction of an experienced old man. Fanciful stories about UFO sightings, grim stories of child-snatchings and fatal lovers' quarrels. One day he sent little Suzy Cartwright screaming right into a towering Maple whose substantial trunk effortlessly popped her tooth right out of its socket and left it dangling by a sinewy thread. "Time to go, Howard" his mother would demand, feigning distaste while smiling to herself as he loped toward her maroon sedan.

In addition to his affinity for storytelling, since his earliest days Howard loved coffee. When Howard would smell the strong brew and hear the "drip, drip" from the institutional pot his Mom had taken from the office, his head collapsed into a hazy amalgamation of senses. Howard would stick his bony fingers into her cup when she turned away to answer the phone or glance at the clock, then suck them to the bone like a junkie. "Howard, did you stick your fingers in my coffee again?" his Mom would inquire with a raised eyebrow, "No" he'd innocently reply.

As he got older, he graduated to sneaking gulps instead, and sometimes would score whole cups doused with cream and three spoonfuls of sugar. He'd sit in the corner of his room and slowly imbibe the velvety liquid, pretending he was at a sidewalk café in Italy or a trendy coffee bar in Soho. Places he'd never been, but of which he'd told sordid stories. Howard could never understand why kids weren't allowed to partake of the infectious drink. It didn't seem to make people sleepy or dull like that brandy stuff his Dad drank when he got home from work, and he knew it was legal because there were coffee shops all over Seaville. But every time he asked, his Mom just said, "Coffee is bad for kids Howard. That's it. When you're an adult, you can drink as much coffee as you want." She even kept her supermarket brand coffee tin hidden so Howard could never find it, though he searched in vain every time she and Dad trusted him without a babysitter.

West Seaville bordered the ruddy blue waters of the Pacific. Howard was fond of water; his parents had always encouraged this attribute and had gotten Howard a sailboat for his fourteenth birthday. He would walk from his house, down Star Lane to the beach where he kept his little beige boat whose back end boasted in sprawling script "Arabica." Bob, the manager of "Buck's Fish and Chips" let Howard tie Arabica up behind the restaurant for safekeeping.

One day Howard's Mom made an egregious mistake. In her haste to get to a white sale, she inadvertently left her coffee tin sitting on the kitchen counter. Howard had sauntered into the kitchen to make a bologna sandwich when the beet-red tin caught his eye. Howard blinked, then quickly grabbed the tin and opened it, flooding the room with the scintillating aroma. Instinctively, he found a filter and made himself enough coffee to fill his camouflage-print camping thermos. Adding cream his Mom had just bought at the Farmer's Market and ten packets of sugar she had swiped from a diner, he filled the thermos and packed it with his sandwich and into a knapsack.

Walking briskly, he made his way to Buck's and untied Arabica, thrusting the vessel into the tepid water and jumping in, knapsack in tow. He quickly poured himself a cup of coffee into the thermos top and drank the first cup greedily, pouring another cup before he'd finished swallowing. While drifting along and lazily sipping cup number two, he heard a faint splashing that seemed to be nearby. He sat up and listened closely for a few minutes, then heard nothing more. Already alert for some reason, he waited until he heard it again, this time definitely near the little boat.

Bending over the side of the boat, he noticed two shiny objects that looked very much like golden eyes staring at him intently, but before he could get a closer look, they vanished. He stayed in his position, surveying the water with the intensity of an angler until they re-appeared. He rubbed his eyes for focus, and there right in front of him was a pair of coin-shaped eyes gazing at him curiously.

Howard sat hypnotized for what seemed like an eternity, and the mysterious eyes did the same. But as his peripheral vision regained consciousness, he noticed a golden mass the same color as the eyes tangled like seaweed and surrounding what appeared to be a small round face holding the deeply inset eyes. He noticed the ecru skin and almost non-existent nose that completed the visage, and then he saw it. A constant flicker he assumed to be late-afternoon sunlight reflected on the water, but upon closer inspection, seemed to be under the surface. A tint darker than the aquamarine water, the object whipped back and forth, gliding like a fish. Then it hit him. As his eyeline trailed the object from its furthest point to the point closest to him, he realized it was attached to a torso. A torso the same ecru as the tiny face whose eyes still fixated on him as if frozen in time. It was a tail. A slender briny tail swishing to keep the torso afloat. A mermaid! Howard was looking at a bona fide mermaid, the most beautiful and majestic creature he had ever seen.

Then as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone. Howard spun around the boat as he looked for some sign of her swimming away, but he didn't see anything, not even a ripple of water. Howard plopped down after an exasperating 15 minutes still holding his half-full thermos top, and incredulously wondered, "Did I really see her?"

As Howard continued to examine his predicament, he peered into the cup he was holding and saw his face reflected in the caramel-colored concoction and suddenly, it all made sense. "That's why kids aren't supposed to have coffee!" he whispered to his moving image, "It makes us hallucinate!" Howard hoisted himself onto the floor of the boat not even noticing his pants were soaking wet as he ingested this revelation, understanding why his Mom never told him the truth. "But why the mermaid?" Howard wondered. He never gave mermaids much thought, save the few stories in his arsenal about mermaid sightings in faraway lands that probably don't exist. But she was by far the most exquisite site he had ever seen and one he would not soon forget. And all she did was stare back.

Howard didn't tell a soul. Having proven his prowess of giving credibility to the extraordinary, he knew he could easily tell the story, but decided this story deserved more than an embellished re-telling behind a string of rehearsed falsities. So Howard locked this gem of a story into the far reaches of his mind and stopped sneaking coffee until he could drink it without incident.

As he reached adulthood, Howard's enthusiasm for storytelling had developed into skills of persuasion, and after successfully convincing concerned parties, Howard opened a coffee shop. Though he stopped drinking the potent beverage from the fateful day until adulthood, he always maintained a fascination with it, and also acquired a fancy for mermaids.

So Howard opened "Stareback" and thought it only fitting his mermaid, whose vision remained in his head as vivid as the day he saw her, be on every cup, every sign and therefore in everyone's head. Each time someone took a sip, grasping her image with their desperate hands, his story was seeping into them. Making them believe without their knowledge. Telling them his story without saying one word. To Howard, he found a way for everyone to experience the hallucinatory properties of coffee. But whenever he sees a child reach for their parent's cup, Howard says with quiet confidence, "You don't want to do that, coffee is bad for kids." And when they ask why with inquisitive, inexperienced eyes, Howard merely says "Ask your mom."

© Sasha Hammarberg. All Rights Reserved.

Finalist - Fairy Tail by Sasha Hammarberg

Sasha recently moved to the City of Angels with her husband, her cat, Griffin, and Beagle Jones. With most of her friends and family left behind on the East Coast, Sasha has found time to indulge her personal passion for writing, which has been a gratifying diversion since her youth. She currently works in the film industry and also writes freelance articles for local publications. Her addiction to coffee is no secret and her story stems from spending scads of hours in varying coffee shops in a city that is to coffee what Amsterdam is to marijuana...

Editor's Note: "Fairy Tail" was chosen for the first round for the following reasons: A twist on the title, and an opening that informed us immediately this would be a "tail" indeed. The format of a fairy tale was an obvious choice for this story, but we were delighted with it, especially since it was the only one entered in this genre. Excellent writing, correct punctuation, no spelling errors. The word usage was great - although this isn't a simplistic read, it is stimulating. The added bonus was "Stareback's." Suitable ending.

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