Siren

Chapter 2 - Sweet Dreams

Marina shot up from her bed, heart pounding. Another nightmare—one of many in the past few weeks. Constant whispers, an endless calling, but she could never make any sense of it. The haunting echoes of the ocean, always just out of reach.

She sighed, swinging her legs over the side of the bed until her bare feet met the cold wooden floor. The familiar scent of salty sea air slipped through her window, bringing an instant calm that soothed the lingering dread of her dreams. She'd never understood them—the whispering voices that seemed to rise from the very depths of the sea.

Marina wiped the weariness from her turquoise eyes, the evidence of a restless night clear in her reflection. She ran her fingers through her long raven hair, detangling the knots from her troubled sleep, but the unease stayed. What do they mean? She wondered. Are they a warning?

"Good morning, mother," she managed to smile as she entered the kitchen, bending down to kiss her mother's slightly wrinkled cheek. The smell of freshly baked bread filled the entire room, grounding her in the present.

Her mother, Elena, turned around, chewing her breakfast slowly as her sharp gaze assessed her daughter's appearance. "Good morning, my dear. Did you sleep well?"

Marina hesitated, her thoughts spinning. "Yes, mother," she lied, but the unease in her eyes betrayed her.

Elena paused, sensing her daughter's unspoken worries. "Oh, before I forget, your father is down at The Salty Mermaid. He wants you to meet him there."

Marina nodded, trying to push aside the lingering sense of dread, and made her way out of the cozy cottage she called home.

As she strolled along the boardwalk toward the inner village, the whispers of the sea breeze filled her ears, mimicking the ones in her dream. No, it's just my mind, she thought, but she couldn't shake the sensation that something was calling to her, beckoning her from afar.

She passed the charming cottages along the way, their pastel hues glowing in the early morning sun. A few early risers greeted her with smiles and waves, but Marina's thoughts remained elsewhere.

When she reached The Salty Mermaid, the heart of Serencove, the familiar sound of the wooden sign creaking in the wind greeted her. The door swung open invitingly, and the warm, comforting smell of baked goods filled the air. The lively chatter and clinking of glasses were a familiar and welcoming sound.

Her father, Thomas, sat at a corner table near the window, sunlight streaming in. He was animatedly talking with the other fishermen. As soon as their eyes met, he waved her over.

"Marina! Come join us!" Thomas beckoned, signaling the men to make space for her.

"I saw her! I know what I saw, Thomas!" John's voice raised, slamming his hand on the table in protest.

John, a long-time family friend, was more like a brother to Thomas and an uncle to Marina.

"Who did you see?" Marina asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Yeah, go on, John. Tell Marina what you saw!" Thomas laughed, a gleam of mischief in his eyes.

"A mermaid," John replied, his voice filled with both excitement and disbelief.

"A mermaid?" Marina echoed. "I don't understand..."

Thomas chuckled. "I told you, she wouldn't believe you!" He took a long drink of his black coffee and slammed the cup on the table. "Are you sure it wasn't a dolphin, or even a whale?"

"I told you, Tom," John insisted, "she had the most gorgeous blonde hair, and the darkest eyes—like staring straight into the depths of the sea." His voice trailed off, and his eyes seemed lost in the memory, as if he had fallen into a trance.

"Uncle John?" Marina gently tapped his arm to pull him from his reverie.

John blinked, his gaze snapping back to her. "I've sailed these seas longer than you've been alive, Marina. It wasn't a whale. It wasn't a dolphin. She was there, right in front of me."

"But mermaids..." Marina hesitated, carefully choosing her words. "Aren't they just legends?"

"Legends are born from truths," John insisted. "It wasn't just her appearance. It was her demeanor. She swam so gracefully, singing a song like she was one with the water."

"Oh, come off it, John!" Thomas interrupted with a laugh. "You've been reading too many books."

"Because of that book, I know what I saw!" John shot back, his tone more serious now.

Marina, torn between skepticism and belief, watched the exchange. She had always loved hearing her father and Uncle John's tales of the sea, but this one was different. As fantastical as it seemed, something about the story stirred a sense of adventure deep inside her.

"John, you can't expect us to believe that mermaids just exist now because of some book," Thomas said, amusement still in his voice.

"But it isn't just a book full of fairytales!" John replied, frustration creeping into his tone. "It's a collection of first-hand accounts, stories from sailors who traveled the oceans. It's about the wonders of the sea, and they wrote down everything they couldn't explain."

"Like a diary?" Marina asked.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that." John glanced at her quickly, then back at her father. "Whether you believe me or not, Tom, you'd do well to pay attention to what I'm saying."

Thomas laughed heartily. "Alright, John, whatever you say." He downed the rest of his now-cold coffee.

Marina couldn't help but wonder about Uncle John's tales. Her connection to the sea had always felt deeper than the simple stories told in The Salty Mermaid. As wild as John's tale sounded, it stirred something in her—a yearning for adventure. Could there be some truth to it? She didn't know, but she made a promise to herself then: she would find out. She wanted to journey across the oceans, seeking the truth of Uncle John's tale. Even if it meant jumping into the sea herself to uncover what lay ahead.