The Monster

The Siren

          Lizzie smiled and hummed a tune that she didn't remember learning, counting the beats until it got to thirty. Then she let go of the man she had been holding under, and he sank down into the depths of the water. She hadn't killed him; he was only unconscious. But since he wouldn't wake up again in time to save himself, she might as well have.

          The vessel she had lured him from was sailing away, the inhabitants hastily stuffing their ears still. Lizzie let them go, content with the scare she had given them and the reduction in their numbers. If they came back to her place in the sea, they would have the same welcome. And if they went somewhere else, there were plenty more sirens to take care of them. Land dwellers weren't necessarily smart, but if you scared them enough times, they could learn.

          She turned around, leaving the body behind. There were enough creatures around to dispose of the body; she wasn't polluting the sea the way those who should be inhabiting the land did. Why they came out here, Lizzie didn't know. Many she came across had the goal of plundering the resources of the sea, taking animals from it in order to eat. Did they not have enough food on the land? Surely they did, otherwise they would not look so well. So it was only selfishness.

          Others Lizzie came across were turning against each other, which made her job easier. Some died by the others' hands, and others she lured to the water in the chaos. It was alright until they noticed what was happening, and then they panicked and sailed away. Sometimes they shot sharp objects on the ends of long poles towards her. No matter, they only gave her more time to take more people.

          A few were peaceful, seeming to just enjoy being in the sea. Those she left alone, as long as they weren't wearing those dreadful hats and carrying swords and such. Lizzie had learned long ago that those were the types that were most aggressive, turning on each other often, and killing many inhabitants of the sea, including sirens.

          For all their selfishness and plundering and murder, somehow that wasn't the reason she wanted to kill them. It was like an insatiable urge, a hunger, from somewhere deep inside her. Maybe it came from before she woke up in the sea, the waves lapping at her face. Before she opened her eyes with a scream on her lips. Before her mind had become nothing more than a blank state, with a singular name— her name —scrawled across it in a messy hand: Lizzie.

          Sometimes her dreams consisted purely of her scream, but others included someone with a green hat with white feathers. Confusion flared in her mind every time she saw them, as the face was never clear, and she wished she could figure out who they were. But then she woke up with screams in her mind, flaring whenever she tried to think about the person. They echoed like a warped and twisted whale song in her head, making her head ache nearly unbearably.

          On those days, she avoided luring sailors alone, preferring to seek out other sirens and help them on their quest. Fulfilling the wish of death towards the land dwellers with another tended to distract her from thoughts of the mysterious person, making the screams die down. And when she woke up the next morning, they would be gone, leaving her only with a fading headache. Once, she had tried to think about the person on the second day, but the screams rose again, and she had blacked out from their intensity. She never tried that again.

          She wondered often what would happen if she ever found that person with the green hat with white feathers. It was treading the line, she could feel the screams waiting to strike, but she kept her thoughts away from wondering who they were and it seemed to be safe. It seemed that thinking of what could happen was much different than thinking of what had happened. 

          Perhaps her memory would come back, if she found this mystery person. That was her most fervent wish. Or maybe killing them would stop her lust for death, give her peace. Though there was no sure answer of what could happen, she had hope that whatever happened, it would fix things. That hope sustained her as she imagined what her life could have been before, burned like a candle in her chest, sometimes flickering, sometimes flaring bright.

          Thoughts of, "What if I never find them? What if the screams come and take away my chance?" often dwelt in her mind, distracting her from her hunts. They were like bursts of air towards the candle in her chest, causing her to falter.

          However, a scarier thought constantly lingered, try as she might to keep it at bay. It darkened her thoughts and ate at her soul, its hunger much greater than any taste she had for violence.

          What if finding them does nothing?