The Silence Beneath the Waves

The sea holds me captive with my own voice.

My own deceptive melodies glide through the waves, luring unsuspecting and innocent people to their deaths against my will. What once used to be a gift has now turned into a curse – forcing me to sing when the tides shift and the scent of human life touches the water. I can feel it before I see it – the shift in my song, the ache in my throat, and the dread that fills my stomach. The air changes too, thick and electric, like the ocean itself knows what's coming. No matter how hard I try to resist, the song escapes me. And if I resist too long, my fate will be the same as the innocents I’m forced to kill – dragged beneath by the same waves that once obeyed my command.

Once, there was a silence I could return to. Once, my voice was a prayer that smoothed the sea like a mirror. I was a priestess then, devoted to the ocean god Poseidon. My voice was so calming and beautiful that Poseidon himself picked me to be his Keeper of the Tides. I sang at dawn and dusk, guiding sailors safely to shore, and when storms struck, the rhythm of my music calmed the tide.

I remember the salt wind brushing against my skin, the shimmer of sunlight on the water as if the sea itself bowed in obedience. The people called me blessed. The gods called me favored. I was the bridge between the sea and the shore, the voice that kept both gods and mortals at peace.

The sea loved me once. But even the gods grow cruel when mortals steal what belongs to them. I should have heard the warning in the waves that day – the hush before the tide, the quiet jealousy in the wind. Everything began to unravel the day I met him—not just another random fisherman, but someone different. Someone who felt like he was meant to be mine.

He was unlike anyone I had ever met before – tall, with wavy, salt-covered hair that the ocean wind liked to tousle, making it flow perfectly. He had a big heart, and he wore it on his sleeve. When he laughed, the waves seemed to still. When he spoke my name, even the seagulls stopped to listen. The sea was no longer my sanctuary – it was just the space between us.

Every day he brought me a different shell or rock, something that reminded himself of me. One time, he brought me a piece of heart-shaped sea glass, in which he had carved our initials. He strung it on a chain and gave the necklace to me as a gift. Even now, after he’s gone, I wear it close to my heart. The metal has rusted with salt and sorrow, but it’s all I have left of the world that loved me before the ocean did not.

For the longest time, I tried to keep him hidden from the watchful eyes of Poseidon. I knew his games and his tricks, and I knew if he found out about my love, he would use it against me. Looking back, I realize that my attempts had been futile. Poseidon had known all along, but it was only until I was no longer singing as much that he became enraged.

The ocean grew angry, waves crashing against the rocks, destroying ships that would have normally arrived on shore safely. And the anger didn’t stop – the ocean continuously attacked the shore, full of rage. When I went to the beach one day at dawn, Poseidon’s fury was so strong that it was tangible in the stagnant sea breeze. The sun reflected off the ocean, making it appear a deep blood red.

As I grew nearer, the waves only grew harsher. Before I could begin singing, the waves pulled back from the shore, revealing a small section of sand. In the sand, a message was written:

“The sea does not forgive without payment. One mortal soul will steady the storm – no more, no less. Bring the one you love most, and show me your loyalty, little siren.”

Confusion swam through my head – who could he possibly want me to sacrifice? And then, I realized. My heart sank. It was him. The one person that had been stealing me away from completing things for Poseidon. The one person that caused my loyalty to Poseidon to slowly crumble. The only person I ever loved. And he was trying to take him away from me.

I kneel at the edge, trembling, letting the wet grains run through my fingers. The words burn against my skin, an accusation, a challenge. I press my palm flat, imagining heat and force, willing the sand to shift, to vanish, to give me reprieve. The ocean responds with a hiss and a surge, mocking me with its indifference.

I refused to sacrifice my one true love. This only angered Poseidon more. As a consequence for my disobedience, he took my love anyways, drowning him in the sea. I screamed and wailed, begging Poseidon to bring him back. But then, my screaming transformed into a song, my wails into a melody, and that was when I realized I couldn’t stop. I was stuck.

I tried to stop singing, and my lungs immediately filled with ocean water, waves roaring in my ears. I was sent to the floor, coughing and choking, and eventually singing once again. I had seen the way the sailors looked at me – as if they were in a trance. They robotically began to move to the water, wading in until their heads went under and their bubbles disappeared. My screams became a part of the melody, a constant reminder of what I had done to the person I loved.

The song always flowed through me, no matter what. It synced with my heartbeat and hummed through my ribs while I slept. Sometimes, the echo of my own voice sounded like other voices – like him. But it never was. It was just my own guilt, gnawing away at my sanity.

Centuries passed this way. Empires rose and fell, sails gave way to engines, and still my song remained. Each voice that answered was another echo of my own grief. The ocean hums when it senses new blood, and I obey, though I hate it. Sometimes I swear I hear his voice beneath mine – soft, fading, like he’s singing back. But when I turn, there’s only the sea.

Until one day, the water hums differently. It’s softer this time – curious, almost tender. The air thickens with something I haven't felt in centuries. Hope. And dread.

In the distance, I see the silhouette of a ship. I hope and pray they turn around before they get any closer to me. They don’t. They slowly get closer until they are near enough for me to make out people and faces.

There’s a figure at the bow of the ship, and the moment I see him, my voice falters.

At first, it’s nothing more than a trick of the light – the way the sun glints off his hair, or how the sea spray distorts his outline. But then he moves, and my heart forgets how to beat. The way he steadies himself on the railing, the slope of his shoulders, the faint curve of his smile – it’s all the same. It’s him.

No. It can’t be. It’s impossible. I watched him drown. I felt the water take his life. I sang as he sank.

The world tilts. I blink salt and tears into one blur, but when my vision clears, he’s still there – alive, breathing, impossibly real. For a fleeting moment, hope floods through me, sharp and bright and cruel. I hadn’t felt hope in so long I almost didn’t recognize the feeling. Maybe Poseidon returned him. Maybe this is mercy. Maybe –

But mercy is not in the sea’s nature.

As the ship drifts closer, the illusion breaks. He’s younger. His eyes are the same color but not the same depth – softer, mortal, unknowing. A descendant, perhaps. A cruel echo carved from the bones of memory.

My throat tightens. The melody wavers. The sea beneath me stirs, hungry, sensing blood and destiny in the air. And all I can think is that the gods are laughing – watching to see if I’ll damn him too.

My voice is hesitant – strained. I can’t let this happen. Not again. Once he gets close to me, I see the music working on him. But he doesn’t struggle, he just looks at me in awe, almost recognition. My heart breaks at the sight, and I know what I need to do. Something I should have done a long, long time ago.

He looks up at me through the foam, and for a heartbeat, I see him – the boy I loved, the one Poseidon took from me. The same eyes. The same heart. The song claws at my throat, pulling me toward the water, toward what I’ve done a thousand times before. But this time… I stop. I swallow the melody. I will not let it escape.

I know what singing would mean. Another life lost. Another cycle of pain. This time, I choose silence. This time, I choose him.

The water stills, and for a second, nothing happens. Then, my lungs flood with salt-filled water. Waves roar and crash in my ears, and my entire body collapses onto the beach. The waves reach for me, trying to take me into its icy hold. I don’t resist. My lungs burn, my vision blurs, and for a second the world dims to shimmer of sunlight breaking through the surface above. I let Death slide over me in the form of a writhing wave – coiling around my limbs, pressing against my lungs, and carrying me into a silence I hadn’t known in centuries.

As my last breath escapes me, I think of his face, and I smile – because this time, he gets to live.