A Siren's Call

[A Siren's Call] Chapter One

         While the water surrounding Genevieve was a warm embrace, the wind was cold as it blew threw the curled tendrils lining her face. The night was a clear one, and when she looked to the sky, she could almost see the twinkling eyes of living souls gazing down at her.

       "Do you see any ships on the horizon?" Her sister, Cora, asked, lingering beside her. Cora was good; kind. Hair as red as the southern sea's coral, skin as pale as the moon, she was the embodiment of what a siren should appear as—devastating.

       "No. The sea is too calm for fair sailing." Genevieve replied, eyes scanning for any ship of hope.

       "The souls are at peace," Cora said, softly, then chuckled to herself. "But alas, I am starved. The sea's peace brings forth our hunger."

       "Our hunger, indeed. We have not eaten for four days. Perhaps the despicable beings have grown wise of our ways; perhaps there are no more men who sail."

        "Don't be ridiculous, Genevieve," Cora laughed, though her voice grew sour. "There will always be men who sail. And those who don't should count themselves fortunate to avoid such a fate, with creatures like us roaming the waters."

       "Don't speak of us with such disdain, Cora," Genevieve bundled her fists beneath the waters edge. "You speak as if you are more righteous than us, yet you deceive just as we do; you eat what we eat."

       "You know I have no choice," Cora murmured, "I cannot eat shelled fish and...and..."

       "And you call those blithering idiots with gills your friends, yes I know. You're a fool, Cora. A damned fool."

        The molten-haired sister was quiet for a few moments, before muttering, "I fear them, as well as admire them."

        "With those beasts there is always more to fear than admire. Selfish creatures, the lot of them. Vain, brutal, poisonous. They kill their own kind for sport, they torture their own kind for pleasure, I've heard they force sexual interactions onto their counterparts!"

        "They do?" Cora gasped, for such a thought amongst sirens was dastardly. "How do you know?"

        "They're evil creatures, Cora; Lia saw it once when she neared a boat. Three men all surrounding an old man on top of a naked woman. Tell me that is not the most awful thing you've heard. To violate someone like that...it's unthinkable," Genevieve grimaced. Her hand stayed at the base of her throat and she knew if she had eaten then everything would have came right back up.

        "It's disgusting," Cora agreed, "but look at the things they create, Genevieve! They're explorers, magicians, innovators—"

       "They're murderers," Genevieve snarled, the tide picking up slightly. "And if you had any sense about you, you would avoid them."

       Cora bristled at the insult just as a speck of light appeared on the vast horizon before them. The ripples and waves around them shuddered. "You forget we kill them, Genevieve. Are we any better?"

       "To survive, Cora," Genevieve sighed, the wind becoming more fierce some as though the stars wanted them fed as well. "We do not harm creatures which live in our own habitat. They will eat and kill and maim anything that breathes their way."

        "I do not understand you, sister," Cora said solemnly. "You fear that which you don't know. You truly don't understand life outside of this ocean."

       "Save me your pitiful sympathies; you speak as if you have travelled many weary years and you're wise of the world, wherein fact all you have of experience are the pittances left behind from wrecked ships. Why should I admire such a cowardly species? Why should I admire them when they hunt us down for their own amusement, when they take the things we value most?" At the thought, Genevieve's throat closed up as if to protect her voice box from that which might harm it. "When they rip the tongues right from our lips; when they steal that which is most precious to us?"