Viewing a single comment thread. View all comments

russrussrussrussruss t1_ixnvgi2 wrote

“…what?” was all I could muster. How could this man, middle aged, and as weak minded as the rest of them, have resisted the effects of my song? In all the years I had spent here none of the ships that were unfortunate enough to pass by my favoured spot had survived, except those who were just far enough away that my voice couldn’t reach them. But this lone, old man somehow stood out from the rest. As his crew were meeting their watery graves, he climbed onto shore. “I’m begging you, please no more. Drown me if you must, tear my heart from my chest, but please stop the Damn singing!” Again, all I could muster was “…what?” This was, to my memory, the first time a human had actually spoken to me, and it was a little jarring to say the least. “My wife back home could do a better job, and her tongue was taken by the gov’ner for speaking Ill of his father, lord bless him.” This man was somehow…being casual with me? Well, as casual as you could be when you insult someone’s who livelihood. “How are you not entranced?” Was it a spell? Was it a hallucination? Were other sirens playing some elaborate practical joke on me? Was it-“I mean, you are beautiful, don’t get me wrong. I can see how most men would lose themselves to you.” He pulled me from my thoughts, but didn’t answer my question. “But that SINGING, I mean seriously, did they only make you a siren out of pity?” “pity?!” I hissed, this has not only survived, but had the gall to disrespect me to my face? Did he not see the razor sharp talons at the ends of my fingers? “I’ve been a siren for longer than you’ve been alive, mortal. And I’ve killed more men than you’ve ever seen! How could you-“ with that, I felt a odd sensation I had never felt before, in my abdomen. Was it admiration, I thought?No, I had admired the songs and beauty of other sirens before. Was it some type of respect for the man who was brave enough to stand before me? No, my eyes were still locked on his, and I could feel the burning hatred for him in my heart. This was… different. This was… bad. I looked down, breaking eye contact for the first time since he climbed onto my rock, to see a piece of metal, broad at the base but growing narrower towards the tip, sticking about 7 inches out of my abdomen, right below my exposed breasts. Then it was suddenly gone, and red liquid replaced it, quickly followed by that same feeling, I recognized as pain, intensifying. I looked back up at the man, he was smirking, and all I could muster was “…what?” Before I collapsed. I could no longer move my lower body, but I knew I could still sing, still had some semblance of a chance at survival if I could only compel this man into the deep seas. So I sang, harder and louder than I ever had, only to feel something quickly grasp my briefly exposed tongue, then sever it. I could no longer sing. “My talons!” I thought, but I lacked the strength to move them, somehow my body was losing energy, and I was getting…cold? “This can’t be happening, I live in the sea, I don’t get cold.” I thought, eyes still trained on the man. Suddenly, a group of 3 other men appeared into my vision, from behind me. The first one nodded at the others. “Well,” he said, removing something from his ears “that was easier than I anticipated, I figured at least one of us wouldn’t return home…and I was sort of hoping it would be me, that part about my wife was true, you know.” They all shared a small laugh, before turning their attention to me. “How is this possible, what sorcery is this!?” I asked with my eyes, and they got the message. “When we heard the stories of a lone siren, who has been luring men to their deaths for centuries, we were all terrified. Hell, you would be too, given the accounts of you. Those faaaar of ships? They were close enough to see you, to see what happen to those who ventured to close. Dead men tell no tales, but live one certainly do. That ship I was on? Full of prisoners, given the death sentence. The gov’ner figured ‘if they’re gonna die, let them die with purpose’ and distracting you was purpose enough. Shame, if only we’d thought of this sooner. cork from the ale bottles, it completely deafens us, see?” He showed me what he removed from his ears, a tiny thing, the size of a pebble. “We weren’t sure, was it the song? Was it the beauty? Or was it some joke of the gods, would we be effected simply by being close enough to you? Turns out, it’s just the song. And with that ability gone, you’re hardly a danger.” I was scared, I knew what this was. Some base instinct, telling me I was in horrid danger. Is this what all those men felt, as they sunk deeper and my song lost its effects? “Alright lads, let’s take the head and make our way home, it’s gonna be a long trip in that small dingy.”