The Echoes of Us

1. Prologue

Prologue

Aliko

I dig my feet deeper into the warm, dry sand and wiggle my toes. It’s so different from the ocean floor. Everything down there is cold and dark; constantly shifting beneath me—the opposite of the steady warmth of the sun overhead.

Of course, when I’m in the ocean in my true form—as a kraken—it doesn’t bother me the same way it does like this.

Human skin feels everything differently.

The heat. The breeze. The roughness of the sand between my toes has become one of my favorite sensations.

I have many favorites up here on land. It’s hard not to.

My true form is sensitive in ways that I am not as a human. My tentacles and suckers are built to feel every movement in the water, every change in pressure and current. I used to think that was enough. That the ocean was enough. It was all I knew—all I had.

But then I came up here and discovered more. So much more.

Maybe it’s selfish of me to keep wanting it, but after having all of this, the cold darkness below doesn’t feel the same anymore, and I’m beginning to resent it.

I lean my head back, rolling it on my stiff shoulders as the sun beats down on my naked body.

The heat is welcome, but I learned long ago not to stand bare in it for long.

The sunburn stays when I shift back into my true form, and though the cool ocean soothes it, my parents ask too many questions about the lighter coloring of my normally dark skin.

Adult kraken males, such as myself, are deep blue-grey, while the females are lighter, like the newborns who will gain their darker coloring after a few months of being in the water if they are male.

When I’d gone home with patches of lighter coloring on my skin, my parents were concerned, thinking I’d become ill.

Thankfully, they were both busy working with the Council, and I was able to dodge them enough that it left their minds and gave me time to heal.

But if it happens again, I won’t be so lucky.

And since I’ve been coming up here more often, I really need to be careful.

My parents have always worked with the Council, but this time my father is the one running for head of the colony. His time is constantly eaten up by it, with my mother at his side. This has given me free rein to do what I want without question. They’re too busy to pay attention to me.

Had I not spent my life proving to Father how much of a failure I am, he’d force me to help.

But since I don’t live up to his expectations, he doesn’t want me anywhere near his campaign, so I don’t ruin his chances of becoming the leader of our colony—something that, to him, is important.

I don’t get it, but I don’t understand a lot of what the kraken do or why now that I’ve experienced human life.

I didn’t understand it before, either, but I went along with it. Now, I hardly even do that.

I don’t want anything to do with politics, and avoiding time with my parents is always high on my list. They never have anything nice to say to me.

Everything is a complaint or judgment. I’m just not good enough for them, no matter what I do, which is why I stopped trying years ago.

But that’s okay—because I have this now.

I’m not supposed to be up here on land, even in human form—something I owe to the gold ring on my finger that holds the magic needed for the shift and to keep me in this form.

I stay human as long as it’s on my finger.

I’d gotten it a few years ago from a pirate I’d planned to eat for dinner.

Kraken don’t always eat humans, but I was particularly hungry that day and enraged over something my father said—not that I remember what it is now, since it’s always something—and took out my rage on a passing boat.

The pirate said he’d give me the ring in exchange for sparing his life. I’d agreed without hesitation.

The surface has always intrigued me—the one thing kraken are absolutely supposed to avoid calls to me more than anything else in this world.

This shifting thing has been my secret for close to three years now, though I have only been coming on land for roughly one of them.

At first, I was too scared, not knowing what to expect up here.

I’ve heard stories of barbaric humans and the crazy things they do.

Turns out, a lot of it is just that—stories.

Likely made up by the Kraken Council to keep us from the surface and keep us secret.

I don’t even understand why that’s so important. There are plenty of monsters up here on land. Humans accept them. Why do kraken have to be so different? We’re only making ourselves stand out by not integrating into society like the others.

The bustling sounds of the city echo in the distance. Venice Beach. It’s one of my favorite places to surface. Everything here is energetic, fun, and full of life.

Over the years, I have learned a lot about human culture, even picking up the ability to read and a bit of writing, too.

Speech, thankfully, came to me naturally in this form.

I can’t explain it, even thinking about it is confusing, but someone said “hello” to me and I knew to say it back.

I’d startled myself with the sound that came out of my mouth, but my brain just knew what to do.

I’m certain it has to do with the magic in the ring, and well, sometimes it’s best to not try to understand how magic works.

Thinking about it too much makes me dizzy.

The world here is fascinating. There are just so many things.

Animals are interesting, but the way humans treat them is confusing.

Only certain species are kept for pets, while others are for eating.

I still don’t know what qualifies one over the other, but thankfully that isn’t something I have to worry about.

I’m not here long enough to keep a pet, but I have eaten human food.

It’s one of my favorite things—yes, another—about being up here on land.

The food has flavor and it’s hot. Sometimes too hot and I burn my tongue, and though that isn’t nice, it’s worth it.

It’s delicious, and my mouth waters when I think of all the food I get to eat up here.

More often than not, I go back home with a stomachache.

My absolute favorite thing, and I mean my number one favorite thing, about being up here on land is the music.

No matter the sound, the beat, the tempo, the lyrics, I love it all.

It feeds my soul in a way nothing else ever has.

I hear it, and it becomes a part of me. I’ve danced with strangers and sang along with them to lyrics I didn’t understand.

I’ve picked up instruments and just knew how to play them.

Music has brought me closer to these humans, and though that was never the goal, I appreciate it just the same.

Music calls to me the way the ocean should.

Down there, we have no music, though I do hear things I can relate to music now.

Like dolphin clicks. Whale songs. Even the low hum of the reef or the pulse of the jellyfish.

Now and then, you hear the crack of a shrimp, reminding me of the cymbals attached to a drum kit.

It’s nothing less than beautiful, now that it means something different.

I learned long ago that something inside of me is broken.

A kraken who doesn’t want to be in the ocean?

It’s unheard of. Not to mention illegal.

I’d be banished if someone, anyone, discovered the truth.

Possibly killed. My kind can’t have someone risking their very existence—though I still don’t know why.

Kraken aren’t meant to be seen or even known—again, I don’t know why.

But it’s worth the risk—whatever risk it would be for humans to learn of kraken.

All of this is worth it to me because up here, on land, I feel alive. I feel happy. I feel like I belong.

Before I make my way up the beach where all the people are, I head back toward the ocean where the waves crash at my feet.

I dive in once it’s deep enough to do so and navigate to the cave where I keep my items. It’s rare for anyone to come here.

Humans don’t risk it because it’s too dangerous.

The waves are harsh against the rocks, and the opening is beneath the water where there is a strong rip current that will relentlessly keep you under.

Plenty of signs are around the area, warning people to stay away because it’s a drowning risk.

Yet, for some reason, even in human form, I am able to stay underwater for as long as I’d like, and my swimming ability is much better than most. I’ve seen some of these humans swim, and it physically pains me. Evolution should be embarrassed.

I swim up into the small cavern, my head breaking the surface, to find the clothing I keep in a waterproof bag tucked against the wall—right where I left it last time.

Once I’m back on the beach, I change into my clothes and hang the bag over my shoulder.

It holds a small amount of money and items I can trade.

One day, maybe I won’t have to choose between the ocean and everything waiting for me up here. One day, maybe I can stay up here forever.

The sun is starting to set, the sky lit up in bright oranges and pinks.

The air is still warm, but there is a cool breeze coming off the ocean, cooling down my sun-kissed skin.

I should head back to the water before my parents wonder where I am.

Today, I’ve been gone longer than usual.

They’ll question where I was if I’m not at the cave when they return, but I never do anything right in their eyes, so a little bit longer on land won’t matter. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

The day has been long and full of amazing things.

Venice Beach has everything all in one place: people, food, music, fun.

I almost don’t want to go home at all, so I walk along the sidewalk, on the beach’s edge, for just a little longer.

Usually I’m back in the ocean before the sunset, but what if I stay until dark?

What if I enjoy the darkness on land instead of beneath the ocean?

I’m glad I do, because I spot something stuck to a pole that catches my attention. A sheet of paper flapping in the soft breeze. Looking both ways, I make sure there are no cars coming before I cross. I made that mistake more than once and almost got run over.

The picture on the paper makes sense to me before the words do, because I’m still learning how to read. Though conversation is quick in my head, anything outside of it is confusing. But I know what the drum kit is. It’s my favorite instrument. So versatile, so many options.

Is someone looking to sell this? Or do they need someone to play?

There are little tabs along the bottom with numbers and words, but I focus on the main picture first. I make out the words band and drummer.

“Hey, you going to try out?”

I glance over my shoulder to find a guy standing across the street, a set of drumsticks sticking out of his front pocket. His hair is long, and he’s dressed in enough clothes that he must be sweating. Jeans, jacket, and a knitted red hat.

Try out? So they are looking for someone to play?

“Uh, maybe.”

He huffs an annoyed sound. “Good luck. They’re only looking for monsters.”

My brow furrows, and I look back at the flyer.

I make out the word monster in big red letters.

“It literally says monsters,” I mutter to myself as the guy walks off.

Wait—they want a monster drummer? I’m a monster drummer.

I’m not a professional, and I’m sure there is a lot to learn, but drums are the instrument that has come most naturally to me. I’m even able to practice underwater, though it doesn’t sound the same at all and my movements are different.

“Where is it?” I call almost frantically to the guy walking away.

He stops and looks back at me, then points in the opposite direction he’s going.

“Hilton Street!”

I look that way, unable to make out any street signs because it’s too dark. But my feet start going in that direction, and I figure it out. I have to figure it out. For the first time, I feel like this could be something.

It takes far too long to find Hilton Street. I passed it twice because it didn’t have a sign on this corner, but when I do find it, my heart is in my throat. I turn down the street, and my palms start to sweat, but I have to do this. I have to.

The street is a dead end, but even if it weren’t, I’d have found them without issue.

Three monsters stand in a brightly lit garage, talking to one another.

Instruments are scattered all over. Guitars, a bass, a keyboard, a beat-up drum kit…

There’s a microphone on a stand off to the side, and a few amps here and there.

My feet work before my brain does, and soon enough I’m standing just outside the garage.

“Can we help you?” one of them asks.

I have no idea what he is, though his horns are pretty cool. They curve backwards over his head.

Living under the ocean for all of my life has left me with little knowledge of everything that goes on up here.

I’m still learning about other monsters that exist here, the same way I’m learning about everything else on land.

I didn’t know they were a thing until I came up here.

I’ve seen humans out on their boats or swimming, but never monsters.

Never others like me… sort of. Kraken are a different breed, but still…

I’m a monster too. And maybe I’ll fit in with these guys just a little more than the kraken because they love music like I do.

“I saw a paper that you were looking for a drummer,” I say as confidently as I can.

“Yeah, a monster drummer,” another one says with a laugh that doesn’t sound friendly. I’m not exactly sure what he is, but he’s big like the other two with tusks and greenish skin.

“I am a monster,” I say adamantly.

The first one steps closer, looking down at me like I’m crazy. Like I don’t know what I’m talking about. I feel so small like this, in human form. Compared to other humans, I’m tall. But standing in front of this giant monster with wings? I feel like a child.

“You look human to me,” he comments.

I hold up my hand, showing off the jewelry. “My ring has magic that turns me into a human.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m huge.”

He barks a laugh, looking at the other two. “Yeah, aren’t we all?”

“No, I’m really huge. Like the size of a boat.”

His gaze narrows. “What the hell are you, man?”

“Kraken.”

“No fucking way,” one comments.

I nod.

“Show us,” the green one demands.

I look around. “I, uh—”

“Let’s take him to the park down the street,” he says, stepping up beside the curved-horn guy and making me feel even smaller.

That feeling is about to change, though. Because they don’t know what they’re in for.