Ocean's Deep

I was ten, my mother took us to our beach apartment for the weekend. My brother was too young to remember, but I do, I do remember everything, and I know what happened.

I've always felt a kind of transcendental attraction to the sea, I grew up in that apartment but we then moved to the city and since then we used it as a holiday house, attraction? sure, but not love. It had been a while since the last time we stayed there, my grandfather died, mom wanted to rest, to take a break from the busy life of the city, we ended up spending a weekend in Las Caracolas. More than an apartment, Las Caracolas was a beach house, kinda like a cabin: just a flat, seashells decorations, pictures of old ships, no TV, a small gas kitchen, and one of those couches that convert into a bed. Lots of kids would agree that it wasn't much, but God what a view, a beautiful view, you just had to walk 5 steps and you'll be on the shore of the sea, mom used to just sit outside, with a big hat, enjoying the wind and the warmth of the beach and read, or just lay there, she loved being there.

I was never one to love the ocean, I didn't like the sand, or the sunburns, or the gross sensation of walking in algae, or fishing. I never looked forward to a day on the beach, but the night was always the worst part of it, sometimes the wind will make a beautiful symphony when it greeted the waves, but most of the time it sounded like laments or cries. I used to imagine those were the sirens crying because they were lonely, but mom said it was just the wind whistling.

"Don't go after 6" That's something mom always said, "kids shouldn't be wandering alone at night", of course I knew the reason behind: the sirens know you are there. Mom had a bedtime story for me as I was growing up, it was more a song than a story, pardon me for that confusion. It went something like:

Oh little child

your eyes are so bright

bright like the stars that shine above the sky

Oh little child

come closer now

or else you will end with empty eyes

Oh little child

let us see your eyes

or we will sing of loneliness

the songs of the stars

I used to believe that if you looked at the reflection of the stars in the sea, sirens will lure you with songs and went blind if you tried to ignore them, so if I wanted to look at the stars I will only look up, never the sea. Right after the clock gave the 6, I would lock the doors and put the curtains over the windows, I didn't want my mom or my brother to look at the sea by accident. I didn't want them to be lured, to get lost in the sea, and to never return, or if they returned, to not return without their eyes.

But I was lured, oh dear reader, if you could only see me right now. I was lured, it was my grandpa. We were never that closed, he lived in another state, but I recognized his voice, it had to be him.

He was singing, he was singing the song of the stars, the song of the lonely, he had a sad tone, no, sad is a feeling, his singing had no feeling, and he called me, I wanted to console him, so I followed his voice.

I followed him, into ocean's deep, I followed that voice into the sea of songs, somewhere we are not allowed to, somewhere that shouldn't even be possible to reach. I got there, I saw light, I saw colors, I saw life, the music the sounds made had colors, sensations, and each took me to a different place. And after a while of that out-of-Earth experience, I saw the voice.

It wasn't him, dear God, it was a horrible creature, a siren, it had to be a siren, it was horrible and frightening, I couldn't bear watching her, she whispered something, and then, nothing.

I don't know if you ever wondered what color did blind people see? white? black? no, it's not color, it's empty, it's nothing.

I know what's the scientific explanation, but doctors always seem to agree that the death of my grandpa was a traumatic event for me and that I related it to the tale of the sirens, maybe that's why my brain blocked my sight. His death didn't affect me and I'm not traumatized. I know what I saw.

Now everything I can see is reflections of the stars, everywhere, they are bright points that every now and then appear, sometimes they are in the puddles, in the floor, or maybe they are walking dots, or maybe I look up and there they are. Maybe that's why they chase people with eyes, they reflect the stars, maybe the sirens see emptiness and then a star appears and they want to reach it, perhaps they think they can reach the stars. I sometimes wonder if a siren gets to see with the eyes they steal, or if they just can't and that why they keep luring people into the sea, maybe they just pluck the eyeballs, the first light they see, and then just stand there, with eyes in their hands feeling empty, frustrated, and then get back to singing, maybe they'll catch the stars one day, maybe they'll see one day. Maybe I'll see one day.

Oh, you probably want to know what she whispered... It was the song of the lonely, but slightly different.

Oh little child

you the star follower

you the one that came to us

Oh pretty child

those are beautiful eyes

don't you wanna share with us the light that you see

Oh little child

tell me, is it bright?

is it far?

or is it blind?