Siren

         The sky explodes. A jagged, blinding rift streaks through the pouring rain, gone almost before it appears.
         Sailors shout incomprehensibly to each other, bailing furiously, throwing ropes, falling beneath the relentless waves battering the ship.
         The young captain shouts over the howling wind, unsuccessfully trying to wipe the endless water off his face.
         "Bring the girl!"
         The first mate's eyes widen at the command. He looks as if he's about to protest, but another deafening boom shudders the boat and he changes his mind. He nods, forcing his way against the wind to the cabin.
         The captain sees another mammoth wave rearing up, and grabs on to the mast quickly, calling out a warning. The wave crashes over the ship, drenching everything and everyone aboard for the millionth time over, stinging spray assaulting all abovedecks.
         The captain wipes his eyes and makes his way over to the cabin, where a previously-dry, long, white dress is being whipped about. The first mate holds the arm of the girl wearing it, huddled into himself.
         The girl is standing up tall, and even though the captain can't see her clearly yet, he knows she is staring straight at him. She contrasts the first mate, who is hunched and shivering, by somehow standing still.
         "Naida." the captain says when he gets close enough, grabbing her other arm.
         She doesn't flinch, even as his hands deepen the bruises that match his fingers perfectly. She meets his gaze, eyes blazing furiously, and wrenches both her arm out of the two men's hands.
         She says nothing, refusing to acknowledge him other than her smoldering eyes.
         This does nothing to improve his mood. "I knew you would be trouble, sea witch," he growls. "I never should have snuck you aboard. You brought us this storm, and you're going to get rid of it."
         She gives no reply, only glares at him.
         The captain's scowl twists deeper into his face and he grabs her arm again, yanking her to the edge of the ship. She doesn't fight, just keeps staring, always staring, with those venomous eyes.
         He pushes her to the railing, snatching her hair and jerking it over the side of the boat. "Any last words?"
         And now at last she speaks, her eyes burning, flaming.
         "You will pay."
         He shoves her overboard.
 

***

 
         Cold.
         That is all I can feel.
         All I'm aware of.
         Cold.
         It isn't unpleasant. I'm not shivering. I have no need of heat. The cold is simply there. Noticeable.
         My breathing is even and smooth. I am calm.
         I cannot feel my heart beat.
         I feel nothing around me, no surfaces. I am weightless.
         I open my eyes.
         There is no light around for them to see, yet I can perceive everything.
         I am underwater. Far, far below the troubled surface, deep, where there is nothing.
         I feel the currents moving me, moving through me. I can see them too, shifting.
         I cannot tell which way is up, nor do I feel any need to know. I could be anywhere.
         I do not know how long I have been here. I have no memories except this moment.
         Who knows how long this moment has been.
         My foot touches sand. I have moved to the bottom of the ocean; I wasn't aware. I lightly drop to my feet, as if I am standing. I look around.
         There is a forest. Tall, gently waving. Small creatures, blind, dart about.
         There is no light to see, but I can see movement. I can see heat. I can see the patterns of the water, the ripples of the currents, I can see life. I am seeing the whole spectrum of waves, not just light. I can see everything.
         I can feel through the water. Even if I could not see, I know the position of every fish, every reaching strand of seaweed. I feel every current change, everything. I feel others, coming.
         I watch the currents, drifting, twisting, changing. A stunning and intricate dance, impossible to see yet watched.
         The others are close to me. We are related by something stronger, deeper than blood.
         We have no need of speech. We join hands and press together, our long white dresses seeming one.
         We are one.
         They join our minds, open our minds, my mind, free me, connect us.
         We spread apart and watch one another, communicating everything without saying a word.
         I know everyone perfectly, completely, even those who are not here, just as they now know me. We are all different, vastly different, yet we all are perfect, strangers yet so much closer than close.. I know exactly where everyone is, just what they are feeling.
         Memories flash in my mind.
         Shy smiles, brushing hands, giggles, matching gazes, lips touching. Crying, a fist slamming into my jaw, crying into his shoulder, the stench of alcohol on breath, promises to stay sober, furious shouting. Waves of emotion, tears from both of us. "I'll sneak you aboard. I'm the captain. We'll make a new life." Creeping after dark, nervous laughter, the exhilaration of having successfully snuck aboard. Stolen kisses, hidden bruises, rum. Hands twisting cruelly into me, blows. Shouts, fights. "It's over, we're done. You can have your ship and your precious rum. We'll land and I'll leave." Being dragged out of my bed during a storm. A lightning strike, stinging rain, cold eyes. Being forced over the side of the ship, slapping the water, his face emotionless. "Good riddance."
         Everyone else sees it as well. They know. The same has happened a thousand times over. Every story is different, but all the same result.
         I hear what I know is my own voice, the last thing I said while mostly human.
         "You will pay."
         He will.
         We move.
 

***

 
         We move like lightning across the ocean. I know where the ship is; somehow I can feel it. It's like an itch.
         It needs to be scratched.
         We do not need to swim, do not need to kick and pull. The ocean knows what we want. We move inhumanly fast.
         We are not human.
         We reach the ship, swim around below it. They look to me.
         This was my ship, my killer. I will make him pay; it is not their place. They have already exacted their payment.
         The water this close to the surface is warmer, lighter. I can see light now, but it doesn't change much.
         I feel the ship moving, and will it to stop. It does.
         I close my eyes and call upon a stone. One comes quickly.
         It is large, large enough to wreck the ship. I have it float on the surface of the water.
         I glide to it, climb up. I am out of the water now, my dress dry and blowing in the wind, tangling in my legs.
         I begin to sing.
         I form no words, no melody. There is no rhythm or structure. The song pours out of me, carrying across the eye of the storm.
         The song twists and bends, harmonizing with itself, making the most lovely, heartrending song that has ever been heard. All the sailors hear it and grow still.
         It grows louder, wilder, angrier. It speaks of what happened to me, what was done to me. It tells them things I do not know, things I used to know, things that even I cannot interpret. I spread my arms wide and stare at the ship as I had when I was human, the fierce song filling my ears.
         It whirls around and around, touching everything, taking form, drawing the ship towards me. The melodies and counter-melodies interweave and twine together, harmonizing and breaking apart. All the sailors listen, entranced, bewitched. They have fallen to their knees, all of them, trembling before my wrath and this heavenly, terrible music.
         The song stops.
         There is a sacred silence: none dare interrupt it.
          It picks up again, the deadly calm and slow somehow more terrifying than the wild whirlwind of music that was before. The sailors don't notice when the ship rams into the rock, splitting it apart.
         The ship begins to sink quickly, aided by my sisters in the water. The sailors are wrapped in the warning of the song: they notice nothing.
         It grows more complex, chants and harmonies blending in eerie ways that make the hairs stand up on the back of the necks of the sailors. They step off the ship as it sinks, onto the rock, walking towards me.
         The music rises once more, but not as it had before; this is the end, soon it will be over. It speeds up, becoming frantic and hectic and breathtakingly alluring, sad, furious.
         The song swirls around, gathering speed, gathering volume, multiple voices singing, chanting, wailing, crying out, louder, higher, faster!
         And it ends.
         The sailors are trembling as they kneel before me, tears running down every face. No one has yet woken from the spell the song cast upon them. The entire boat has sunk.
         I stare at the captain. He rises and walks toward me, unaware of what he is doing.
         I sing a short, pure melody and he notices me. I have woken him up, but only enough to be aware of what is happening, not enough to care.
         Memories run through my mind. My first kiss, the first of many stinging slaps, pressing into his shoulder as I cry, yelling, his arms around me, sobs, held hands, hiding black eyes with makeup, giggles, bruises, secrets. The breakup, the stony cold silence that followed, the hardness in his eyes when he looked at me. Asking for help, being turned away. Sea witches are taboo. I don't know why you're on this ship anyway. The captain can do what he wants.
          My anger flares up in me. I push it down and walk toward him, his eyes following me.
          I kiss him.
          He isn't awake enough yet to wonder why. He kisses me back, his hands finding the places where whispers of his clenched hands still remain, fitting the marks on my arms perfectly.
         I wrap my arms around him, a piece of jagged coral in my left hand. He pulls me closer to him, forgetting we broke up.
          I plunge the coral into his back.
          He jerks back from me, all the breath leaving him. He is awake now. He stares at me, eyes wide, mouth open. Blood starts to stain his lips. He coughs, the sound wet. Blood flecks his teeth, my dress.
         "Wha- Naida- you- wait, we- I-- but... you're... dead." He manages to gasp out.
         I give him a sweet smile. "I told you that you would pay." I shove him into the water and lean over him. "I never lie."
         He stares at me with shocked eyes as my sisters pull him down. I am the last thing he will ever see.
         The itch is gone.
 

***

 
         I walk along the beach, my dress trailing in the shallows. I am watching the sunset as I often do, walking along the edge of the ocean, my feet discernible in the sand only due to their movement.
         A wind pick up and blows my hair back, the shells I have tied in clinking.
         The sunset is lovely tonight. The sun is large and orange, half visible over the oceans edge. It throws brilliant beams of light through various holes in the clouds that it has stained pink, the fierce orange band at the horizon melting into dark wine, then deep blue velvet patterned with stars.
         I bend down and collect a swirled shell, delicate and twisted. I reach up and place it on the crown I am wearing, adding it to my array. They will be positioned with the many others I have gathered, adding to my walls.
         Few of my sisters understand my captivation with the shells, and even I do not know why. I simply enjoy looking at them, and the walls I create from them enrapture me.
         The sunsets is fading, losing its glory, and I turn and begin walking into the water.
         When it is perhaps to my waist I stop and turn, looking back at the land. My footsteps are a trail reaching far across the sand, stretching as far as is visible, slowly vanishing as the waves venture further up against the shore.
         I turn back to face the sun, and the ocean carries me farther, far out above its depths. I raise my arms and shoot into the sky, a pillar of water twisting its way higher, seeking the stars. I lower my hands and we still, miles high.
         I observe the land, massive and green, too small from this height to make out details other than coloring and movement. I turn and behold the beauty of the sea, ever changing, infinitely vast, sparkling and crashing, dark and light, mysterious and beautiful.
         I close my eyes and lean back, falling. The air rushes past me, whipping my dress and hair into a frenzy, breathing against my bare shoulders. I lean my head back, tilting in my fall. I feel my body start to smooth, streamlining, my dress folding, my arms and legs melting into myself, and before my fall is complete I am a serpent. I enter the water with hardly a ripple.
         I cut through the waves, covering miles a minute, enjoying the exhilaration of going impossibly fast.
         As I near my walls I begin to reshape again, becoming wider and curved, my snout pointing, fins forming, and I am a dolphin. I rush to the surface and leap, seeming to hang in midair before splashing down again. I rush in a funnel the rest of the way, spiraling to my destination, twisting out of my shape, and step down gently onto the sea floor with my feet.
         I walk over to my two walls, arranged in a corner, reaching to my waist. They are breathtaking, creamy and textured with shells of all shapes and sizes, smooth and rippled, pearly and rough. I remove my crown of shells and dismantle it, placing the new additions carefully. When I am done I step back and admire them, a slight smile on my face.
         I close my eyes and lean back, falling into the water, floating upward. I catch a current and drift, wherever it would take me.
         I touch several of my sisters with my mind, joining them in spirit if not presence. They welcome me, and we explore together, finding new forests, new creatures.
         I do not know how long it has been since I first became siren, and it doesn't much matter. Time is irrelevant under the sea, where nothing changes and yet everything is shifting, evolving.
         I no longer think about my life before. I have regained most of my memories, although occasionally a new one will flash into my mind, but I have no desire to return to the life I once had.
         I am home.