Sirens

Prolouge

   Three people stood outside of a overly large mansion. One of them, a famous model; the other, a multi-billionaire; and finally, the six year old son of the two. They stood on the porch of this large mansion because the owner of this particularly large house had just died, and their only family was standing on the porch waiting to be invited inside, and given that person's most precious belongings.

     "Father, how come I had never met grand mama?" the young boys father pressed his lips into a thin line and crouched down to look his son the eye. He held his arm in a firm grasp, and the child struggled, trying to loosen his father's grip.

   "Tyson, your grandmother was not very healthy. She did some very bad things, she hurt people. She was never completely in her mind." The man paused waiting for any reaction out of his son, but the child just stood there, holding his father's gaze. "Tyson, do you understand what I'm saying?"

   Tyson's father rose, about to ring the bell again, when the boy spoke, his voice only a whisper.

   "Like you?" Before his mother could stop it, a hand flew out and hit the young boys face, striking directly below the eye. Before the young boy could cry out, the large door creaked open reveling a long dark hallway, and a butler standing before the angry husband, expressionless wife, and tearful young boy.

   "Follow me please." The old butler stepped aside and lead the family into a parlor, the dark ebony tables covered in trinkets, reports, and strangely enough, drawings. Tyson's parents were drawn  to the furniture and trinkets, but he went straight to the table of drawings. They were simple enough trees, ponds, houses, and women. Just not ordinary women, mermaids, and sirens. They were depicted sitting on rocks, in the middle of storms, and even lying dead on the ground.

   "Tyson, pick out what you would like, your mother and I are going to be in the dining room to sign
papers." Tyson just nodded picking up a collection of the drawings and plopping himself on the patterned carpet.  The first picture was painted with oils, there was a small slip of paper clipped to it. The painting depicted three mermaids gazing at a dying man, one lovingly caressed his face, while the other two looked on from the rocks. In the background a ship loomed eerily in the fog. The small slip of paper had four names written on it. Gregory,  Madina, Maryina, and Phillia.

   That was one of the few pictures that was painted. The others were sketches, with pieces of paper also with names written on them. Tyson did notice one thing, the name Phillia was on all the pieces of paper, she was in all the pictures and you could never see her face.

   The sound of voices made there way back into the parlor, and Tyson could hear the sound of his mothers heels on the wooden floors and he quickly stuffed the pictures under a stack of notebooks. He had enough sense to know that if he asked for the mermaid pictures he would get hit again.

   At the end of the estate sale the Duran's left with several large pieces of furniture, a set of throw pillows, new silverware, and a stack of notebooks hiding all of the mermaid pictures.