Creative Writing: The Little Mermaid

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The chilly September air, hits my face as I look to the approaching dock. We are arriving in Grafton, Illinois. I run my hands through my inky black hair, breathing in the smell of the polluted air, the river water, and what seems to be dead fish. But I don’t wrinkle my nose as many of the passengers do, I am a sailor and this is my life. As we dock, I help with the ropes, tying the knots as my father taught me. My scarred and calloused hand are swift and nimble. I look towards the busy city, people are everywhere. Steamboats larger than I have ever seen before are docking near us,and in the distance I see a railroad. As people exit, I hear snippets of conversation. “... has the best business community in the north, they say.” “Oh, yes, that awful flood. Though it did help the steamboat industry didn’t it? I really…” “I cannot believe these fishers, everywhere. Do people really make a living off of this…” I stop listening, letting the people prattle. This town is a major river port and the opportunities it offers are countless. As soon as I make sure my boat, The Little Mermaid, is safe and secure, I walk to the mainland, taking in the riverfront, the manufacturing companies, and the people. Oh, so many people! Fishers, boat builders, businessmen, railroad workers, and sailors to name a few. A shop sign near me advertises pearls, promising “good prices” and pearls of “all sizes, and all colors!” People are lined inside; the demand seems to be high. I get in line. When I

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