He sat in the front of his ship, fiddling with the teal flower between his fingers, rubbing the petals as the movements of the sea rocked him from side to side. He felt the salty air burn his nostrils as he contemplated the horizon; not another soul in sight, he thought, no one would find him, not in months, probably. It was about to be night, he remarked, which signaled him it was time to go. His ship was already anchored, so he didn’t have to worry about it sailing away during the night. He headed back to his bedroom, ready for his last night on the sea.
He had been a fisherman for decades now, and he had heard all sorts of stories about this place; the Siren’s Call they named it. It was a source of all kinds of tales and legends, every family seemed to have a relative who disappeared at the Siren’s Call, and these myths were so known that most men were too scared to even approach it. The truth about the Siren’s Call was, he found, that it was a peculiarly hard to navigate shortcut between Blackester and Fodstow. If someone, like him, could manage to steer their ship across the narrow path formed by the shallow floor and the scattered boulders without accidentally drifting into one of the rapid currents, they could save two full days on their trip between the two harbors. He understood that taking the detour was safer, but also much longer, which is why, once every week, he would navigate the Siren’s Call, and every time he would leave unscathed.
He had heard the stories too, about the chanting of sirens driving sailors mad, how they would jump into the open sea to be eaten by the creatures. He knew these stories were all myths, he suspected the sailors who’d disappear would simply overestimate their capabilities to sail in the Siren’s Call, causing damage to their ship until it sunk. Of course, the man would hear the Siren’s Call too, but the sound was inhumanly, and could only be heard when the wind was blowing. He saw a lot of odd sights during his travels on the sea, and strange sounds produced by wind passing through weirdly-shaped rocks was nothing new to him. He dropped the flower on his bedstand and laid on his bed, inside the cabin of his ship, and he appreciated the chanting. He didn’t exactly know what it was, but he did enjoy the sounds. It was soothing, he thought, ideal to sleep to.
Because of his occupation, he didn’t get a lot of guests, which is why he found it odd when he heard footsteps from outside the cabin. At first, the sound didn’t worry him, thinking that he might’ve just imagined it, but as the footsteps drew closer, he realized it wasn’t a trick of his mind. He sprung from his bed when he heard the knob of his door turn. He was standing up, waiting for what the door would reveal.
In his doorstep he saw a woman, he wasn’t especially invested in analyzing her, but he did make notice that she was completely bare and about perhaps 10 years younger than him, at most. He wanted to ask her who she was and how she got on his ship, but she was the first to speak.
“You finally stopped.”
The woman smiled, as if she recognized the man, but he had no clue as to who she was, he was sure of it.
“Stopped?”
“After all those years, I believed you would never stop. When I saw your ship, I had to check for myself… I can’t believe it.”
The man saw the woman approach him slowly, and he tried not to move, cautiously. The woman reached his face with her hand, trying to rub her thumb against his cheek. Her eyes were watery, as if she was moved.
“You finally came for me.”
The man slapped her arm away from him. He quickly grabbed the rifle he kept in his cabin and pointed it towards her. It wasn’t charged, but he hoped she wouldn’t take the chance.
“I have no idea who you are, woman, do not approach me!”
The woman looked startled, but she listened to the man. She walked a few steps backwards, so she’d be contained within the doorframe, and she asked quietly, almost only for herself,
“Then why would you stop?”
The man could see the look of confusion on the woman’s face. This felt like a huge misunderstanding, and feeling she was harmless, he put away the rifle. He sat on his bed, sighing.
“It’s none of your business, ma’am.”
She looked around, as if something in the room would reveal something about what she wanted to know.
“But you are the fisherman who crossed this narrow path every week for the last ten years, are you?”
He looked up to her, visibly confused. He didn’t know why she’d know that about him, or even why she would care.
“There might be others, but I would be one of them.”
“No… there’s only one of you, and it would be you.”
She slowly walked to his bed and sat beside him. The man was annoyed by this strange woman dripping on his bed sheets, but he had other priorities in mind, like figuring out what she wanted. He let her and listened carefully.
“What is your name, fisherman?”
“William.”
“William… and you didn’t stop for me?”
“Why would I stop for you?”
She blinked a few times, looking at him with a disconcerting smile. She didn’t believe him.
“What? Are you deaf, William?”
It was his turn to believe he was talking to a looney.
“Is this seriously your question?”
She shook her head, he was right, but she still didn’t understand.
“I thought all these years you only resisted it, and you’re telling me you never heard it?”
“Heard what?”
“My song.”
William stood up in shock, knocking his head on his cabin’s ceiling. He was starting to put the pieces together, but he could not believe the picture.
“You mean… the Siren’s Call?”
“So, you do know about it?”
She slowly stood up wearing a questioning stare.
“Know about it? I heard it—that, the chanting. It was you?”
“You hear it, but you never stop. How?”
“I thought it was a trick of my ears, some illusions produced by the wind and odd-shaped rocks. You’re telling me you are the siren?”
She smiled in a disappointing manner, but she nodded.
“Do you believe me?”
“No, of course not.”
“What if I sang?”
“We’ll see.”
She understood. She opened her mouth and a beautifully haunting sound came out of it, an inhumane melody that, for the first time due of how close it was, the fisherman felt hypnotizing. He’d hear it every time he would cross the Siren’s Call, he never stopped but he always admired its beauty. It had to be her.
“You are the siren.”
She laughed.
“And you are the fisherman.”
He sat on a chair in front of his bed as she returned to it. Only a bedstand separating the two of them, they stared at each other, their eyes full of distrust and their mind running at full speed to process everything.
“Why do you care so much about me, siren?”
She nodded, smirking. She seemed to reminisce an old memory.
“No man who ever hears my call resists it. They either jump out of their ships or steer them into the rapids. As far as I know, none of them ever survives.”
“You eat them?”
She didn’t answer, only smiled. He got the message.
“I don’t understand, your spells never worked on me.”
“You mean you aren’t scared?”
“I don’t think I am, no. I am trying to understand all of this, to be honest.”
She thought the man would fear her, but she enjoyed he didn’t, she thought.
“Well, in honesty I am also trying to piece together why you were never drawn to me… Are you one of these men who prefer… the company of other men?”
“Not as far as I remember.”
His eyes drifted to a picture frame on his bedstand and the siren noticed and looked at it too. It depicted a young woman in her twenties, and as the man was in his forties, she deducted;
“Is she your daughter?”
The girl on the picture was beautiful, she had dark black hairs at shoulder length, light, piercing eyes and a pale skin. She was reminded of an angel. The man sighed.
“No, my… wife.”
“Wife? Isn’t she a bit young?”
“She was, indeed. Too young.”
“Was? What do you—Oh.”
The siren understood what he meant, and she felt his pain.
“That’s why you spend all your time alone, here.”
The man nodded.
“Nothing’s waiting for me on land.”
“Don’t you have any children?”
“No, we didn’t have the—”
The man stopped and shut his eyes close. He put a hand on his face, trying to keep himself from sobbing. It has been ages since he spoke aloud about his wife and the words out of his mouth seemed to come out with his tears. The siren looked at him with sadness, she put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it in an effort to comfort him.
“I am so sorry.”
William shook his head in a way to convey it wasn’t her fault. He took a deep breath and wiped his face. He looked back at the siren.
“Are you going to take my soul?”
She was shocked by the sudden change of conversation.
“I don’t—I don’t think so, no.”
“Then why did you come?”
“I believed you wanted me to come, William. I see now that this isn’t why you stopped.”
She took a pause, it reminded her:
“Wait, then why did you stop?”
The man opened his mouth as if to say something, but he stopped himself. He seemed to think for a minute and replied.
“I wanted peace. I knew no one else would come near here, and I enjoyed...”
He seemed embarrassed to admit it.”
“… I enjoyed your chanting.”
A bright smile made its place unto the siren’s face, it was almost contagious. She looked like a young girl who had received a unicorn for Christmas.
“Oh! I’m so pleased you did; I was afraid it wasn’t of your taste.”
It made the man smile, he found the whole situation absurd, but he didn’t hate it. The siren stood up from the bed and grabbed one of the man’s hands. She picked it up with one hand and rubbed it with the other, feeling his old, tired skin overworked with decades of labor. She enjoyed the ruggedness of his hands, how much pain every scar held.
“I will not kill you, William.”
“You won’t?”
“No, I just decided. You are a good man and it would pain me to rid the world of you.”
He looked down, almost saddened by the flattery.
“I will leave you alone to peace, but I want to do something for you first. Wait for me.”
She left the cabin and closed the door behind her, leaving him behind, confused. For a moment, he thought she would leave, so he stood up and started walking back and forth, trying to think and comprehend what has occurred. It took a few minutes before the siren came back. The scene played slowly as the siren entered the room slowly. The man took a good look at her, but she looked different. Eerily familiar. The man quickly recognized the dark black hairs and the pair of green eyes.
“Emily…” he muttered, as he caressed her cheeks with his hand. She looked like she did before she died, making her seem half his age. His heart had stopped, he couldn’t believe his eyes.
“Yes, William… I’m back…”
But the voice wasn’t it; he pulled himself backwards.
“It’s you, you witch! What do you think you’re doing?”
William was angry, shocking the siren. She didn’t expect him to react this way, so she slowly wrapped her arms around the man’s waist. She could feel he was resistant, but he was letting her do it.
“You can have me again, William, it’s okay…”
The man was sobbing again. Her head against his chest, she could hear his heartbeat had accelerated and his body was tense. He was frightened.
“Siren, please change back into yourself, I cannot stand looking at you like this, you’re not her…”
“I cannot change into myself, William, if a man sees my true face the horror would shock him dead.”
She was rubbing her hands across his back, trying to comfort him. He was simply standing still, not returning the embrace.
“I don’t understand… didn’t I see your true face earlier?”
“No… I had changed into what I thought you would prefer to see me as; I have now learned that there was another face you would have rather seen.”
She pulled her face away from his chest to stare at him. With compassion, she started caressing his cheek. He closed his eyes.
“I realized why you were never drawn to my chants: you truly love her, even after all these years, your heart still belongs to her. The most beautiful woman in the world couldn’t attract your gaze, because to your eyes, she died a long time ago.”
The man started crying again, but this time he put his arms around the siren, pressing her against him. She let herself being held as she felt his body twitching at every sob.
“I miss her. I miss her so much.”
His voice was breaking, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt anything like that, but the sadness pouring out of him felt relieving.
“I’m back.”
“No, you’re not. You’re not her.”
“Yes… Yes, I am.”
She leaned in for a kiss and the man stood still as their lips met. He knew she wasn’t her; he knew it was all a lie, an illusion, but he wanted it to be true. He needed it to be true, so he kissed her back. He put one hand on her shoulder and dropped the other to her lower back. He pushed her in as he kissed her with passion, for all the years he couldn’t. She was losing herself to his big, rugged hands: while it wasn’t her first time copulating with a human male, this felt more passionate, more loving. She though she knew everything there needed to be known about seduction and sexuality, but clearly she missed out on one thing; the loving embrace of a passionate husband. She was holding his face, feeling his stubble on her palm. She threw back her head, exposing her neck to his lips as she took his hand to place it on her bare chest. He carefully grabbed her breasts, squeezing it slightly as if to not break her.
He enjoyed the smoothness of her skin, it was so familiar that he’d forget, between kisses, that the woman in her arms wasn’t his wife. The siren sat on his bed as he stayed standing still. She put a hand on his pants, rubbing his thigh, staring at him as to make a suggestion. William stared back, mostly to appreciate the opportunity to find Emily’s eyes again, he was brushing his hand through her dark black hairs. Yet, he understood the message and had mixed feelings about going further. After fondling his crotch through his pants, she cautiously pulled them down, revealing his half-erected member. She cradled in in her palm, slowly circling her thumb against his shaft. The man moaned as he grabbed her shoulder with one hand and held her head with the other. The siren warmed his penis in her mouth, feeling it grow against her tongue. A hand on his ass, she grabbed his balls with the other, fondling them softly, attentively thrusting with her head to follow the subtle pulls of the fisherman’s hand.
He was holding the siren, but only so lightly, he felt she was fragile, and her head and body felt so small in his hands: William was manipulating her as not to break her. The siren felt it too, she would usually be held against her victims’ bodies more tightly, aggressively, and she thought that it was what she enjoyed. But this was softer, slower, and somehow it felt more passionate.
She was licking and sucking his penis, making it grow in her hand and mouth, as she felt his bruised, warm hands grab her by the head and shoulders. She slowly removed his member from her mouth and laid on his small bed. She grabbed his hand and led him on top of her before helping him remove his shirt. She felt him resisting, still unsure as if he was allowed to do such a thing, so she rubbed her hands on his hairy chest, feeling the strong body he had built over his career of steering ships and catching fishes. She thought about his body, which looked much older than the ones she’d usually mate with, but his felt more attractive to her, she enjoyed the history behind every bruise, the strength in every muscle. She had snuck a hand behind his neck to caress the back of his hairs, but the man seemed to be panicking.
“I… I can’t, what about my wife?”
“Your wife is here, William, don’t you want her?”
He brushed the siren’s hairs out of her face to see his lover’s face better.
“… Yes.”
“Then, take her, William.”
“Emily…”
“William…”
His penis was laying between her thighs as he leaned down to kiss her again. She felt him tremble, she tried to reassure him by rubbing his arms, which were placed on both sides of her head.
“It’s okay, William… I am here, now…”
The man, still trembling, pulled back to look at her again. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling, her face bringing him so much joy, but a sadness was still haunting his eyes. She made it her mission to cure him of his pain, for years she’d take the joy out of men, but for now, for this moment, she wanted to be a part of it, to be the source. She wanted to fix his heart. She wasn’t sure if she could do it, after all those years of breaking them, but she wanted to try.
“Do you still want me, Emily? I am old, I don’t deserve you, not like this.”
“I want you, William, I want you to take me. Please, take me…”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed his head into her shoulder. She felt his stubble brush against her neck as he kissed her skin, his hand had returned to her breast, and his other grabbed the bed to hold himself. His hand left her breast, and he dragged it against her hips and stomach, slowly descending to his fully erected penis, which had been laying on her crotch. He grabbed it and stroked it against the opening of her legs, feeling her hot, warm lips spreading under his shaft. She was anticipating him to be inside her, pushing William’s into her neck and then, in a first strong movement, he thrusted into her, penetrating her with his warm penis.
They both cried a powerful moan as he kept thrusting; him because of this feeling he hadn’t felt in ages, feeling the body of his wife after all those years; her because of this raw passion that she never felt before, the warmth of a lost romance powering his every move. She was laying in the bed, helplessly, letting him power every push. William’s mind was clouded; in this moment the woman in his arms was his Emily, and every inch of his body believed it. His arms had slipped under her back so he could press her into him even more, and their lips retrieved each other, kissing every breath they had.
When he came into her, he squeezed her body into his violently, making it hard for the siren to breath. She took it all in, closing her eyes as she was filled by the man. He dropped his heavy body on her, panting. The siren pushed the man’s body under her, turning in a way that she’d instead be on top. She was willing to continue until she was finished, but seeing the man’s exhaustion, she understood it would be impossible and, satisfied, she laid on top of him, pushing her nose into his neck, feeling her body lift with every heave of his chest. The man’s eyes were closed, looking as if he would be sleeping and as she noticed it, she reached for the lamp by the bedstand, but the man spoke before she could turn it off.
“I want to… I want to see your real face, siren.”
She didn’t seem to understand his request.
“You want me to revert to the look you first saw me as?”
“No. Your real face.”
She bolted upwards, sitting on his stomach, startled.
“Are you insane? I told you any man who sees my true face dies!”
“I know.”
It took a moment for it to sink in, but seconds later it all made sense to her. She understood why the men came here, why he really stopped at the Siren’s Call. She gasped.
“You… You came here to die,” she muttered, a hand on her mouth.
The man looked away, his sad expression haunting his face again, almost shamed by it. It all made sense to her, that’s why he came here, because no one would bother him, no one would find his body for a long time. He came here to die in peace, in his ship.
“But… why?”
The man sighed as he grabbed his wife’s picture on the bedstand.
“I can’t live without her; it’s been thirty years and I still mourn her. I’ve been blessed by meeting her, but her death cursed me with this everlasting pain.”
“What about… me?”
The siren had grown to like the man, she couldn’t let him slip away from her. She wanted him still, she didn’t want him to leave her after just meeting him.
“You’re not her, siren. You have her beauty, but not… not her heart.”
She was hurt, she knew she wasn’t Emily, but she thought that her appearance would be enough. She felt like crying—no man ever made her cry but this one would. She felt anger.
“I will not kill you William, I want you to stay. Stay with me and we can be together, I will… I will love you, and I know you can love me. I can be Emily, just give me a chance!”
“Emily died, siren, it pains me, but it is so. I do not wish to betray my memories of her, that is all that remains of her.”
“I do not care! I am not taking away your life!” she shouted, she then furiously added “I will chain you to this ship if I have to, William! I will strap you to this bed and love you, I will care for you and you will need nothing more. I know you can learn to love me.”
She was desperate, and the man felt flattered, but he only longed one person at the moment.
“I couldn’t. You know it.”
She knew he was right.
“I still refuse to do it.”
“I understand, I didn’t come here expecting you to do it, I didn’t even plan to meet you. I had come prepared.”
The man reached for the teal flower on his bedstand and put it inside his palm. He stared at it and the siren did too: she looked at the small plant, it looked beautiful, almost shining under the faint light. She went to touch it but the man’s hand drew back.
“It’s called the Widow’s Kiss. It has a strong venom in it that, if eaten, will paralyze my entire body in minutes, it will be extremely painful, and all of my nerves will feel like burning. After about ten to twenty minutes of suffering, I should die.”
The siren tried to grab the plant from him, but he shut his fist around it. Mad, she tried to pull on his fingers to unclench his hand, but his grasps was too strong. She gave up.
“If you refuse to end my life, I will do it myself.”
“Why? Why are you doing this to me?”
The siren was crying, distressed by the dilemma the man was posing her.
“You have killed all these men, siren, after you used all of them. These men had families and lovers and some of them were young men. Why can’t you kill one who wishes to die?”
“Because I love you.”
“You do not.”
Again, he was right. She loved the passion he had for his wife, and she was jealous of it. She desired that intense romance, she wanted to be cared for the same way he cared for Emily. She hated her, she wished she was her so much, but it wasn’t because she loved the man. She knew nothing of William, she did only used him, like she used all men.
“Why must you punish me?”
“I am not, siren. You have taken so many lives, you should see my own as your last. You’ve always had what you wanted, let me go and take it as redemption.”
She understood his every word, and even though she did not want to do it, she knew what must be done.
“I accept.”
The siren closed her eyes before changing, she refused to see his face react to hers. It took her a few minutes before she acted, she tried to savor every last of his breaths, the last moment of his life.
“I’m ready,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
A painful scream shrieked through the night. It was one of terrible terror, a shivering sound that pierced through the dark night sky and troubled the calm waters of the sea. It was a scream as terrible as the ones heard from the siren’s other victims, but this one carried a sadness that she wasn’t accustomed to. The man’s arm dropped to the floor, releasing the deadly flower on the floor. The siren picked it up and kept it as she left. She didn’t touch the man’s body, she left it alone, and she disappeared into the dark waters.
To this day, sailors have returned to the Siren’s Call, and came back with stories about the chanting, about how it stopped. Legends told about where the chants went, about how a hero would’ve defeated the creature, or how the monster fell in love with a mortal man. They were only speculations, but some sailors who’d carry more attention would notice that as though the chanting ceased, another sound took its place. It was short and quiet, it was easy to miss, but it was there. These acute sailors would know that the siren never left, that she was still here.
They heard that the siren mourned.
