Word Count: 427
A low hum echoed throughout the air. Sirens. Only one came up to the shore, but the songs of the others reached the beach where I stood. Waves lapped over her scaly legs as she spoke.
“You will do it then?” A song encased every word, luring me in, yet threatening me away.
I nodded quickly, my blond braids dropping sand into the water with the movement. The siren glared as the specks washed over her scales.
“Tomorrow?” she voiced it as a question, but we both knew it was a command. She didn't wait for my answer as she slipped back into the salty ocean water. Blue waves covered the spot she once sat, and slowly the song quieted. Hints still weighed heavily on this beach. The sirens always watched, waiting for their next victim.
I picked my bare feet out of the water with a struggle from the sand that had long since sucked them down. Growling beneath my bathing suit, my stomach reminded me of what I was trying to do before the siren came. I made my way back to my picnic blanket. When I bit into my sandwich the flavor was lost with the crunch of the sand. Yum. Tossing my sandwich in my bag, I began to sketch a design for the sandcastle, trying to match what the siren had requested – demanded – for me to make. A little thing, only the second command, I could only wait for the commands to grow larger and larger. Once trapped there was no escape, you either obeyed or were forced to obey. There were rumors of a bird, a dove, who could detach the siren song and set one free. Unlikely, but when faced with believing in a bird or giving up a child, the bird would probably become an option. For now, I was content building sandcastles and baking cookies.
I approached the glittering sea, sketchbook in hand. Wading in ankle-deep water, I began to walk along the shore, feeling both the sand and the water: the known and the unknown. Soon I’d be swept away by what lurked in the unknown, but for now, I was safe, as safe as one can be when trapped in a siren song. Perhaps soon I'd start seeking that dove. Maybe with hope beyond hope, it would save me. A laugh coated my chapped lips, a bird. Believing in a bird? Funny what one believes when faced between a silly rumor and torture. When accepting slave hood. When overlooking death. When trapped in a siren song.
“You will do it then?” A song encased every word, luring me in, yet threatening me away.
I nodded quickly, my blond braids dropping sand into the water with the movement. The siren glared as the specks washed over her scales.
“Tomorrow?” she voiced it as a question, but we both knew it was a command. She didn't wait for my answer as she slipped back into the salty ocean water. Blue waves covered the spot she once sat, and slowly the song quieted. Hints still weighed heavily on this beach. The sirens always watched, waiting for their next victim.
I picked my bare feet out of the water with a struggle from the sand that had long since sucked them down. Growling beneath my bathing suit, my stomach reminded me of what I was trying to do before the siren came. I made my way back to my picnic blanket. When I bit into my sandwich the flavor was lost with the crunch of the sand. Yum. Tossing my sandwich in my bag, I began to sketch a design for the sandcastle, trying to match what the siren had requested – demanded – for me to make. A little thing, only the second command, I could only wait for the commands to grow larger and larger. Once trapped there was no escape, you either obeyed or were forced to obey. There were rumors of a bird, a dove, who could detach the siren song and set one free. Unlikely, but when faced with believing in a bird or giving up a child, the bird would probably become an option. For now, I was content building sandcastles and baking cookies.
I approached the glittering sea, sketchbook in hand. Wading in ankle-deep water, I began to walk along the shore, feeling both the sand and the water: the known and the unknown. Soon I’d be swept away by what lurked in the unknown, but for now, I was safe, as safe as one can be when trapped in a siren song. Perhaps soon I'd start seeking that dove. Maybe with hope beyond hope, it would save me. A laugh coated my chapped lips, a bird. Believing in a bird? Funny what one believes when faced between a silly rumor and torture. When accepting slave hood. When overlooking death. When trapped in a siren song.