Siren Song

I knew that following the siren’s song would lead me to certain death. I had heard stories about brave men being lured to a watery grave by the melodic songs of the sirens. I had never heard those stories told about women, though. The village elders had made it clear to us throughout our lives that only men were supposed to be lured by the song. Men who couldn’t be swayed or women who could were portrayed as defective, inferior. I had been desperate to believe that I wasn’t one of these people. I had tried to ignore the call of the sirens when I had worked at the docks, each scrub of my cleaning brush against the wood a desperate attempt to tune out the songs that were calling out to me, an attempt to look unaffected like the rest of the maids cleaning the docks with me. Over time, I had grown to be of age for marriage, and most of the sirens had moved on, given up on me to try and lure someone else. But one stayed. 

She sang her song to me time after time, years slowly ticking by with her angelic voice continuing to ring in my ears every day. Her voice had always been distinctive to me among the rest, flowing as smoothly and sweetly as honey as her melody transcended the rest, and would draw me closer to the edge of the docks each day. When I had first heard her voice, it had stirred a feeling inside of me that I hadn’t felt before. My face had flushed, my pulse quickened, and I had felt drawn towards her. I had almost lost control of myself on that first day, desperately trying to move so I could get a glimpse of the siren whose voice had awoken my deepest feelings. The sole thing that had stopped me that day was the acute stares of the others on the docks. They had glimpsed what effect the siren was having on me, and their looks of disapproval and disgust had forever been burned into my mind as a source of shame. 

I had tried so hard not to think about her reaching out for me in the water, waiting to grab me and drag me under the water while I struggled, I would be another trophy to her conquests of mortals. I tried to think of the man the elders had chosen to be my husband. He would provide me with a stable home and a promise of a future in the village, a respectable wife who would be accepted by the elders. Yet, I felt nothing but dread when picturing this. This lie I would be forced to live, pretending to be devoted to a man I hardly knew and felt nothing towards, and fitting in with a village whose ideals had rejected me since I was born. 

Another thing holding me back had always been the stories of the sirens, the certain death that the elders had told us about. The way I looked at it, I was effectively dead either way. But at least if I chose the siren, I would feel alive, even just for the briefest moment. I had fantasized about seeing her, and this fantasy had only grown more vivid with age, as I crept closer to the edge of the docks over the years, I had started to picture her more. I’d see her fins glistening in the moonlight, her dark hair cascading down like waterfalls surrounding her face. She’d look at me with a mesmerizing gaze as her lips would move in song, and I’d imagine running off the docks in ecstasy to meet her, and she’d smile kindly at me for a split second, before grabbing me harshly and dragging me under the water. She’d reveal she’d been using me, stringing me along with her melodies, but I wouldn’t care. I would be glad to have just seen her, just to have touched her for a moment. 

I sat at the edge of the docks now, scrubbing desperately, trying not to gaze out into the water, where I knew she’d be. I heard a humming, and I could feel my hands dropping the scrub brush. I saw a glimmer in the moonlight, and saw a pair of dark green fins in the water, and she emerged. Her hair was long and dark, reflecting the moonlight as it fell around her face. Her eyes were dark, which contrasted strikingly with the luminescence of her skin. She was radiant, more than I could’ve imagined in my wildest fantasies. I felt a pang of insecurity in my tattered work dress and disheveled hair, while she was a vision of excellence. My pulse quickened as her eyes rose to meet mine, and her lips moved to form a kind smile, an unexpected softness radiating from her eyes. She wordlessly extended a single, slender hand towards me and I glanced back to the village. 

There was nothing for me there anymore, there never had been. I ran towards the siren, my hands outstretched towards her as I leapt in the water, ready to embrace my fate and leave my old life behind. I felt icy stab of the water, the saltiness stung my eyes, but I felt her hand on mine and a rush of warmth went through me. I felt her tug, and I was submerged in the water, ready to meet my fate. The siren instead pressed her lips softly to mine, and I fervently kissed her back, desperate to preserve this moment of bliss for as long as possible. When she pulled away, I felt free, I felt weightless- I could breathe. My eyes widened as my heart continued to beat and I continued to breath underneath the water. The siren smiled at me and took my hand. I waited so long for you to be ready, she said. The village had told us lies to prevent people like me from discovering what really lies at the bottom of the ocean with the sirens. The sirens song had led to the death of my life in the village, of the scared person I once was, desperate to fit in and not be discovered. For the first time in my life, I was finally free. I was alive.