Fancy A Quickie?

When the Siren Sounds

MARCH has fallen and with it my first victim of the year. I can't help it, I can't stop it, I have no choice but to allow these people to die for me.

I have to kill every six months in order to stay alive. I'm a Siren, albeit not in the form most people would think.

I'm a man, to begin with, and I must have been born this way because since I can remember people are drawn to me.

I didn't murder anyone as a child but people were always so nice to me, so attentive and flattering. But as I became a teenager, specifically after the age of sixteen, I suddenly became irresistible.

Twice a year I sing, and my song attracts someone who will become infatuated with me, obsessed with me, madly in love with me up to the point where I either kill them, or they kill themselves for their love of me.

Why do I do it? Because I have no choice. If I ignore the song that rises up within me it eventually becomes a piercing wail which strikes dead anyone who hears it.

I must sing my attractive call, and allow one person to die to save dozens. Nobody will ever love me for me, they will only be drawn in by my song. Or they'll find out what I am and hate me.

Maybe it's for the best. Nobody should have to love me, I'm a monster.

And yet, as I run away from the woman who followed me from the karaoke bar here in Seattle, who now lies dead in an alley, I wonder why I need to keep alive at all.

Do I keep alive just to live until my next kill?

I return to the bar and feel the pain of my curse drag me down.

Someone's watching me.