The Song Beneath The Sea - By Jinnie Chang

Written By: Jinnie Chang

Category: Short Story/Fantasy & Science Fiction

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

Jinnie Chang immerses us in a world of mystery and legend with "The Song Beneath The Sea," a fantasy short story featured in the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. This tale takes readers on a journey to a small island off the coast of France, where ancient myths intertwine with the present. As the protagonist seeks the truth behind the Melusine legends, a transformative adventure unfolds, revealing hidden truths and awakening dormant powers.

About the Work

"The Song Beneath The Sea" weaves a narrative rich with mythological themes and evocative imagery. The story explores the profound connection between human curiosity and ancient legends, set against the backdrop of a mysterious island. As scales appear on the protagonist's arm, Chang masterfully evokes a sense of wonder and foreboding, leading to a climactic encounter with legendary sea creatures. This short story captivates with its blend of suspense, folklore, and self-discovery.

The Song Beneath The Sea

Original Submission by Jinnie Chang

The Song Beneath The Sea

My arm began to burn.

At first, I thought it was an allergic reaction.

The sensation started beneath my wrist - a faint itch, almost insignificant. I ignored it and continued writing. Shortly after, the itching spread upward, beneath my sleeve, accompanied by a heat that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than my skin.

I finally stopped writing, putting down my pen.

When I rolled up my sleeve, I stopped breathing. This scene is something that I will never forget in my life.

Small scales covered the inside of my forearm.

They are pale, almost translucent, arranged in delicate overlapping rows. In the afternoon light, they reflected a faint teal sheen.

I stared at them for several seconds before touching one.

It was warm.

The moment I touched it, the memories flooded in like the sea.

Warm yet fierce.

***

Few days earlier, I had arrived on a small island off the coast of France.

According to local folklore, the island was once connected to the lost kingdom. No historian I knew made that claim seriously. The folklore belonged to legend, not history.

I had come for something else.

Melusine.

For years I had studied the old European legends surrounding her - a woman associated with sacred springs and rivers, often described as extraordinarily beautiful but with the lower half of a serpent or fish.

Depending on the version of the story, she had one tail, two tails, wings or some combination of all three.

Most scholars regarded her as a symbolic figure: A warning about broken promises, forbidden curiosity and the fear of the unknown.

I was less certain.

A few weeks before my trip, French newspapers had reported a series of disappearances on the island.

Children.

Seven of them.

There were no bodies. No ransom demands. No evidence of abduction.

Only a blurred image from a security camera.

A woman sitting on a stone.

Long wavy hair.

Pale skin.

And the disturbing part? Beneath the water, what appeared to be two tails.

The authorities called it a hoax.

The parents did not.

Neither did I.

So I came.

I travelled. I found a small hotel in the center of the town, left my luggage in the room and spent the rest of the afternoon wandering along the town.

The island is very beautiful in a way that makes me uneasy.

Flowers blooming everywhere, spilling over stone walls and winding around old houses. The river ran quietly through the town, its surface reflecting the afternoon sky. Somewhere nearby, someone was playing the violin, children singing folk songs.

By evening, I was hungry.

I walked towards the streets where there are some stalls, cafes and restaurants, and found a small restaurant nearby the river.

Inside, the place smelled of fried food, herbs and something sweet from the kitchen. I ordered fish and chips and a jug of beer from the ordering counter, then settled near the window with my notebook.

I had barely finished my chips when I overheard the people sitting at the next table.

“They found another child’s shoe.”

My pen stopped moving.

An elderly man lowered his voice.

“Near the northern shore.”

“Don’t say her name.”

Someone glanced toward the river.

“Melusine”

The conversation grew quieter.

I listened.

According to them, the security camera had captured a woman sitting on a rock in the middle of the night. She waved to the child.

Step by step, the child walked towards her.

No struggle.

No screams.

No crying.

As if he had simply forgotten how to be afraid.

The child’s body, along with the earlier similar cases had never been found.

The children’s parents refused to believe they were dead.

I eventually joined the conversation.

I told them I was a historian studying Melusine legends.

That was when the stories began.

Old stories.

Old fears.

Stories about the sacred springs, drowned kingdoms, sea creatures, gods who once walked among humans.

By sunset, I had filled my notebook with the details of our conversation.

***

The next morning, my head felt as though someone had driven a nail through my skull.

I opened my eyes and found myself in my hotel room.

I remembered very little after the conversation.

I remembered the river.

I remembered someone laughing.

And I remembered walking towards the shore, seeing a woman sitting on the rock.

She looked directly into my eyes.

Then everything went black.

But I had no memory of returning.

“Never drinking that much again.” I muttered.

Something caught my attention.

There, on the floor under the door, a paper lay motionless.

I picked it up.

There was only one sentence.

I know what you came here looking for. Meet me at the same restaurant near the river yesterday at three. Look for a man with the trident tattoo on the left side of his neck.

Silence.

As if I had debated with myself, to go or not to go.

I checked the clock.

Noon.

Three hours.

I’ll go.

Sharp at three, I opened the restaurant’s door.

My eyes scanned the area.

Found him.

He was easy to find, he sat alone near the river. He looks like in his forties, with weathered skin and the posture of someone accustomed to the sea. A faded trident tattoo curved along the left side of his neck.

He noticed me immediately.

“You’re the historian.”

“And you’re the one who left the note.”

He laughed.

“Pierre.”

He introduced himself as a sailor.

Then he told me he had been sitting nearby the previous evening, overheard our conversation.

“I’ve been waiting for someone like you.”

“Huh? Why?”

He looked at me for a brief moment before continuing.

“Because Melusine has begun to wake.”

I was surprised but curious at the same time.

I opened my notebook, ready my pen.

“Tell me what you know.”

Pierre nodded. He told me that Melusine was not merely a woman from a medieval legend.

She was older.

Much older.

He told me about a nobleman who met a beautiful woman beside a sacred spring. She agreed to marry him under one condition: He must never see her on Saturdays, when she returned to the water.

The man kept his promise for years.

However, curiosity gets the best of him.

One Friday at midnight, he silently followed her.

The shore.

What he saw beneath the surface destroyed everything.

He saw a serpent’s tail.

His wife’s.

He broke the promise.

She disappeared.

The legend survived.

But according to Pierre, the story had been misunderstood.

“Melusine wasn’t punished for being a monster,” he said.

“She was punished for being seen.”

I looked up from my notebook.

“What does it mean?”

“Humans are very good at turning what they fear into evil, don’t they?”

Silent.

I inhaled deeply and looked at him, then at my notebook again.

“The children are still alive.”

He broke the silence.

My breath caught.

“Where?”

“Below the island.”

I stared at him.

“Are you serious?”

“I am.”

“And the creature in the river or ocean?”

“Melusine. But we’re out of time.”

“Why?”

“There is something else other than Melusine.”

He paused for a brief moment, then continued.

“Kraken”

He told me about the ancient conflict between the creatures of the sea, Clashing to claim the territory.

The war had never truly ended.

It had only been forgotten.

“Kraken feeds on fear.” Pierre said. “Children’s fear is pure. Powerful. Easy to cultivate.”

“And Melusine?”

“She made a pact with Kraken.”

“What? Why?”

Pierre didn’t answer.

“Why does Kraken want power when it is already so strong?”

Pierre's eyes hardened.

“The Great War of the Sea King is approaching.”

I closed my notebook. Information overloaded.

“This is insane, what have I heard?”

“Perhaps.”

He stood.

“But you’ve already come so far, I don’t think you don’t believe me.”

I hated that he was right.

“But why tell me these?”

“You’ll have to figure it out yourself.”

Silent.

“Well, let aside these insane stories, we need to find the children. You said they are alive.”

***

We left the town shortly after that.

The path into the forest was narrow and wet. The further we walked, the quieter the island became.

The air was cold and clean. Leaves moved softly overhead. A breeze slipped through the trees and brushed against my cheek.

“Give me your hand.”

Pierre suddenly spoke. I do as he said.

He drew something across my palm with his index finger.

A trident.

The moment he finished drawing, the breeze stopped, and disappeared.

The forest became unusually quiet.

“What happened?”

“Keep walking.”

Pierre didn't answer much now. Since the moment we stepped into the forest, he’s becoming more and more quiet, mysterious but I didn't feel dangerous around him, I guess I’m weird too.

Hours passed.

Midnight.

We crossed streams, climbed rocks and followed a trail that seemed to disappear and reappear beneath the trees.

Eventually, we found a cave.

It was enormous, with underground lake.

The cave smelled of roses.

But underneath the sweetness was something rotten.

Dead fish.

I covered my mouth and nose. Pierre frowned.

“Stay close.”

We entered the cave.

The deeper we went, the stronger the smell became.

My stomach turned.

“I need a moment.”

I stepped away and that’s when I saw it.

A shining object between two rocks.

A scale.

It was beautiful, chillingly beautiful.

Teal.

Almost exactly the colour of the ocean.

I reached for it.

The moment my fingers touched it, pain shot through my arm.

I let out a low, muffled cry.

Heat.

Heat spread beneath my skin.

I quickly rolled up my sleeve.

Scales.

“Pierre!”

He grabbed my wrist. His expression changed.

For the first time since I met him, he looked troubled, very troubled.

I was in pain, shocked, my brain couldn't catch up with what had happened, till Pierre drew another symbol across my “scaled” arm.

A serpent.

The pain suddenly disappeared. But I can feel that something inside me has awakened.

My senses became sharp.

I could hear almost everything, meters away the wave hitting shores, deep down inside the cave water dripping, and someone else’s breathing… aside from mine and Pierre’s.

My vision sharpened, the darkness became almost no different from morning. I can see things clearly without any lights.

“What…happened… to me?”

I asked shakily. Pierre’s face went pale.

“So it was true.”

He continued.

“You are the one… her descendant.”

My heart stopped. Before we could react, that someone’s breathing became closer, I could hear it. Then, a sound echoed through the cave.

Low

Deep

Almost like laughter.

“Stay behind me.” Pierre hissed. He readied his stances.

Something enormous moved in the darkness, I can see it.

Huge tentacles burst out from the underground lake.

A gigantic head with huge black eyes slowly surfaced.

As if the water surface inside this cave is not just simply normal underground lake.

It was deep, very deep.

Pierre pushed me aside.

The cave shook.

Then, she appeared.

Melusine.

Not the image from the newspaper, nor the picture from the old storybook or internet.

She’s here, a living creature right in front of my eyes.

Beautiful.

Terrifying.

But what is more terrifying now is the gigantic tentacles.

They suddenly burst out of the water again and struck.

Melusine blocked the attack.

Pierre kneeled, he placed his hand on the water surface. Eyes fixed on the gigantic head with huge black eyes.

“Kraken.”

I stood there, frozen. I couldn't move, my head could not process what had happened.

Pierre surged to his feet, a colossal golden trident firmly in hand.

He summoned the sea.

Water crashed against the cave walls.

I ran.

I had no weapon, no training, no exposure to these insane creatures.

Kraken’s tentacles came to me, it struck the place where I was.

Melusine and Pierre blocked a few attacks for me.

I barely escaped one.

It hit my shoulder causing me to fall and when I think this is the end of my life,

An instinct took over.

I raised my hand.

A force that I do not understand moved inside me.

The cave trembled.

Melusine stopped.

Pierre stopped.

Kraken stopped.

Something inside me snapped.

A powerful force exploded.

Bright light spread across the cave. For a moment, there was nothing but white.

Pierre sought the opening and took this opportunity.

He drove his trident to Kraken’s head.

When I opened my eyes, Kraken was falling.

The gigantic creature released a monstrous sound that shook the cave.

Then it collapsed into the water.

Silence followed.

I turned toward Melusine.

She was wounded.

So was I.

“You don’t understand what you’ve done,” she whispered.

Her voice was soft, but it sent chills to my spine.

“What have I done? What happened?”

I have so many questions, who is Pierre actually, why told me the stories, the scales, the Trident, Kraken, Melusine and

Who Am I?

“You had awakened it.”

“What?”

But she was already retreating into the water.

“Wait!”

She looked back once.

And then disappeared.

The trident disappeared too. Pierre stood not far away, his eyes fixed on me, complicated.

***

We found the children.

They were imprisoned in a chamber beneath the cave, which was exactly located under the island.

All of them are alive and asleep.

We brought them back to the town. Informed the authorities where we found them. That’s all, not exposing Kraken and Melusine and Pierre’s trident.

After long silence, Pierre spoke, he said the cave is an entrance.

Entrance of what? He didn’t answer.

But he said our meeting was never something simple.

Then he left before sunrise.

I never saw him again.

The newspapers called the rescue a miracle.

I called it unexplained.

***

Boarding the ferry, I left the island.

I should have felt relieved, the children are now safe and sound.

Instead, I keep thinking about Melusine’s final words before she disappeared into the water.

You had awakened it

I looked down at my hand.

The scales were still here.

When the ferry moved farther from the island, I watched the coastline disappear into the mist.

Then something moved beneath the water.

Two pale shapes.

Swimming alongside the ferry.

I stood still.

No one else seemed to notice.

The shapes followed the ferry for several minutes before disappearing into the depths.

***

I began researching my own family.

For the first time in my life, I searched beyond my grandparents.

Then my great-grandparents.

Then further.

I freezes.

I found a name I had never heard before.

A woman who had originally lived on that island in France.

Her small portrait had survived in an old family archive.

The very same woman I had seen sitting on the rock.

Beneath the portrait was a single handwritten sentence.

She must never be allowed to return to the sea

I stared at it for a long time.

Then I heard water dripping from somewhere behind me.

Slowly.

Rhythmically.

I turned.

No one there, not behind me, not in the room.

I went to the bathroom.

Walked closer to the foggy mirror.

A single scale rested on the glass.

Teal.

And beneath it, written in water.

The war had just begun

I touched the scale.

This time, it did not burn.

It felt warm.

Almost alive.

And somewhere, very far away, something beneath the ocean began to sing.

Jinnie Chang

jinnie915@gmail.com

31/8/2026

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, hosted by Hashtag Kalakar, celebrates the art of storytelling and poetic expression. This esteemed event invites writers from around the world to showcase their creativity and craft. Participants explore diverse themes and genres, contributing to a global tapestry of literary works that inspire and provoke thought. The competition is a platform for both emerging and established writers to share their unique voices.

Thank you, Jinnie Chang, for your captivating short story, "The Song Beneath The Sea." Your contribution to the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 offers readers an enthralling glimpse into a world where myth and reality intertwine. We appreciate your participation and look forward to seeing more of your evocative storytelling in the future.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.