Read The Mermaid of Huacachina Online
Once upon a time, in the warm lands of Peru, there was no oasis in the middle of the desert. There were only wide hills of golden sand, a bright sky, and a quiet place where the wind sang softly over the dunes.
Not far from there lived a young woman of great beauty. She had kind eyes, long dark hair, and a voice so sweet that even the evening breeze seemed to pause when she sang. Many people admired her, yet she loved above all the peaceful hours she spent alone.
Each afternoon, when the sun began to lower and the desert shone like gold, she went to a secret place among the sands. There she sat beside a little hollow where clear water gathered from the earth. In her hands she held a shining mirror, and in the stillness she looked at the sky, the palms, and her own reflection.
Some say she went there to rest.
Some say she went there to remember someone she had loved and lost.
Whatever the reason, that quiet place was dear to her heart.
One evening, while she sat in silence, she heard a sound behind her.
It was the step of someone walking across the sand.
She turned her head and saw a hunter standing not far away. He had been crossing the desert and had stopped in wonder when he saw the young woman by the water.
The woman was startled.
She rose quickly.
In her haste, the mirror slipped from her hands and fell to the ground.
At once, something marvelous happened.
The shining mirror touched the earth, and the little pool began to widen. The water spread softly and swiftly, brighter than silver in the evening light. It stretched across the sand until it became a beautiful lagoon.
The young woman stepped back in fear and amazement.
Then she ran.
As she hurried over the desert, the long folds of her mantle trailed behind her. Wherever the cloth touched the ground, the sand rose in soft, curving shapes. In this way the dunes were formed, one after another, around the new lagoon.
The hunter watched in astonishment.
—Wait! he cried. —I did not mean to frighten you!
But the young woman did not stop. The desert wind swirled about her, the sand shimmered in the fading light, and before the hunter’s eyes she slipped into the waters of the lagoon.
Then all became quiet.
The hunter stood alone beside the shore, listening to the whisper of the palms and the soft movement of the water. He waited for the young woman to rise again, but she did not return.
Only the lagoon remained, clear and shining in the middle of the desert.
When the people heard what had happened, they came to see the place with their own eyes. They found a lovely oasis where before there had been only sand. Palm trees stood nearby, the water gleamed beneath the sky, and the dunes curved all around it like golden waves.
The people marveled at its beauty.
—This is no ordinary lagoon, they said.
And because the young woman had vanished into the water, a new story began to pass from one voice to another.
Some said she had become a mermaid.
Some said she still lived beneath the lagoon, combing her long hair in the moonlight.
Others said that on very quiet nights, when the stars were reflected in the water, a sweet and distant song could still be heard.
As the years passed, many travelers came through the desert and stopped beside the oasis. Some rested in the shade of the palms. Others gazed at the water and listened carefully, hoping to hear the mermaid sing.
There was once a shepherd boy who crossed the dunes with his flock and often rested near the lagoon at sunset. He was gentle and observant, and he loved the stories told by the older people.
One evening, after the sheep had settled quietly nearby, he sat by the shore and looked into the still water.
The sky was turning rose and gold.
The palms were reflected like painted shadows.
Then he heard the faintest sound.
It was not the wind.
It was not a bird.
It was a voice, soft and clear, singing from somewhere near the middle of the lagoon.
The boy stood very still.
Again the song rose, gentle as a dream.
He stepped closer to the shore and shaded his eyes.
There, among the silver ripples, he thought he saw a face for just a moment. It was beautiful and calm, framed by dark hair that floated upon the water.
Then the face was gone.
The boy did not run. He did not shout.
Instead, he bowed his head respectfully.
—If you are the lady of the lagoon, he said softly, —I mean no harm.
For a little while the water moved in circles, as if something beneath it had heard him.
Then the voice came again, quiet as the evening breeze.
—Guard this place well.
The boy’s heart beat fast, but he was not afraid.
—I will, he replied.
After that night, he told no careless story and made no proud boast. He only spoke gently to the people of the village.
—The lagoon is beautiful, he said. —We must treat it with care.
So the people learned to respect the oasis. They did not shout by its waters. They did not disturb its quiet beauty. They came with calm hearts, and when the moon shone over the lagoon, they remembered the young woman who had become part of its mystery.
And so, the old people say, that is why the oasis of Huacachina lies among the dunes, bright as a jewel in the desert. They say the mermaid still lives in its waters, and that now and then, on peaceful nights, her song rises with the wind.
For this reason, the people remembered something very important: beauty is not only to be admired, but also to be protected with respect and kindness.
The end
