A Siren
To Hear the Siren's Song
In the small town of Breda's Cove, there exists an urban legend.
On the night of a new moon at the end of the witching hour, should one stand upon the docks at Leary's Lighthouse; you'll see it. Some who claim to have seen it say it was magnificent – crystalline, platinum locks that blend into the waters, marble skin with a dewy finish, and glacial, translucent irises that could paralyze any creature. However, there are also others with contrasting recounts of encounters – creatures with strands of white frost fortresses, so icy a visible, frigid chill would spill onto the ocean waters, ashen, opaque skin as withered as a rotting corpse, and obsidian gems as an acting oculus.
The aspect that remains the same for all portrayals of the tale is one thing: Their voices came from the heavens.
The words they would cantillate in an ethereal tone were different for all who heard them, but hypnotic all the same.
"That's bullshit, Breda, and you know it," Trevor Taft called out from across the fire pit, the heat and embers that glided upwards brightening his blue-green eyes and spilling shadows over his sandy blonde hair.
Everyone at the pit turned their attention over to me to see if I would give a rebuttal, the looks of my peers hoping I would make this bonfire interesting for once and have a row with Taft. Too bad for them, I wasn't one to entertain.
"You always tell the same shit at the bonfires, Austin."
"Yeah, because none of you dipshits can come up with anything better."
Trevor rose from the dune he rested upon, particles of beach flying off his body and landing in the pit, the flames crackling when the substance hit the blaze. "Too bad your great-grandfather couldn't have come up with something better," he muttered beneath his breath, though the wind was still thoughtful enough to carry it over to my ears nonetheless. "All the wood's gone, and I'm getting out of here. See ya."
Everyone else came to same conclusion and rose from the ground, shaking themselves free of the shore and gathering their things — one by one students of Cove High School making their way inland from the coast. I was the last to remain soon enough, the popping of the fire my only company until it burned out completely, leaving the only visibility I had to come from the celestial-being in the sky and Leary's Lighthouse whenever the light swept over in my direction.
Out of curiosity, my feet wandered over towards the lonely pier, the wood groaning beneath my weight.
As I was staring out into the distance, the new moon reflected off the waters till a small dot protruded through the sea. It grew till it took the shape of a head that was half-submerged...
My chest grew cold at her words...
My last words...
On the night of a new moon at the end of the witching hour, should one stand upon the docks at Leary's Lighthouse; you'll see it. Some who claim to have seen it say it was magnificent – crystalline, platinum locks that blend into the waters, marble skin with a dewy finish, and glacial, translucent irises that could paralyze any creature. However, there are also others with contrasting recounts of encounters – creatures with strands of white frost fortresses, so icy a visible, frigid chill would spill onto the ocean waters, ashen, opaque skin as withered as a rotting corpse, and obsidian gems as an acting oculus.
The aspect that remains the same for all portrayals of the tale is one thing: Their voices came from the heavens.
The words they would cantillate in an ethereal tone were different for all who heard them, but hypnotic all the same.
"That's bullshit, Breda, and you know it," Trevor Taft called out from across the fire pit, the heat and embers that glided upwards brightening his blue-green eyes and spilling shadows over his sandy blonde hair.
Everyone at the pit turned their attention over to me to see if I would give a rebuttal, the looks of my peers hoping I would make this bonfire interesting for once and have a row with Taft. Too bad for them, I wasn't one to entertain.
"You always tell the same shit at the bonfires, Austin."
"Yeah, because none of you dipshits can come up with anything better."
Trevor rose from the dune he rested upon, particles of beach flying off his body and landing in the pit, the flames crackling when the substance hit the blaze. "Too bad your great-grandfather couldn't have come up with something better," he muttered beneath his breath, though the wind was still thoughtful enough to carry it over to my ears nonetheless. "All the wood's gone, and I'm getting out of here. See ya."
Everyone else came to same conclusion and rose from the ground, shaking themselves free of the shore and gathering their things — one by one students of Cove High School making their way inland from the coast. I was the last to remain soon enough, the popping of the fire my only company until it burned out completely, leaving the only visibility I had to come from the celestial-being in the sky and Leary's Lighthouse whenever the light swept over in my direction.
Out of curiosity, my feet wandered over towards the lonely pier, the wood groaning beneath my weight.
As I was staring out into the distance, the new moon reflected off the waters till a small dot protruded through the sea. It grew till it took the shape of a head that was half-submerged...
"You are the thing that keeps me and the land apart...
I am in need of your heart..."
I am in need of your heart..."
My chest grew cold at her words...
My last words...
"A siren..."