The Siren Read Online Free PDF

hearing. French spilled into Swahili, German into Latin. For the ears that heard this distant song, it would be a tangle of syllables that seemed both familiar and foreign. It would sound like a comforting lullaby from your youth, except somehow you weren’t sure if you’d ever really heard it before. You’d have to get close to be sure.
    Our harmonies wove into a beautiful knot that no human ear could unravel. Pitches and octaves laced themselves together into a fabric of unimaginable sounds. You couldn’t help yourself. You wouldn’t be satisfied with the blessing of hearing it and not knowing the source. You had to find it. Every inch that closed between us, the poison, the pleasure in your ears would grow. For some it was slower than others; they were the ones that really suffered.
    Reason ceased. You’d be prepared to drown. And if She asked us to stop singing and your logic resumed, you were already well beyond hope. Only a handful of people ever made it out.
    A few moments passed. The outline of a large boat came into view. Slowly it crept closer and closer until we could finally make out its shape. It was a steel ship with five large masts and billowing sails. My arms were around Miaka, and she gripped me tighter, digging her nails into my arms. It didn’t hurt. I wanted to reassure her, to tell her to stay calm. But if I stopped singing it would be a sign of mutiny, and I would disappear along with all the souls on the approaching ship.
    As it came closer, we could see people on the deck. Judging from the backlit silhouettes, they appeared to be all men. They were straining to see the source of our intoxicating sound. Our skin glittered in the moonlight, and as they drew near, that was the first thing they saw.
    “What is that?” someone asked. It was a man’s voice.
    “Do you see that shining on the water?” another called. This too was a man. They always seemed much more susceptible.
    They drew close, and the ship turned slightly so that soon they would pass right in front of us. I looked forward but avoided looking at their faces. I had made that mistake before. I hoped Miaka would know better; I should have warned her. These excursions with the Ocean gave me some of the most evil nightmares I’d ever had. Wet hands would grab me and pull out my hair, drawing me into the darkness to join them. The faces I had seen would stare me down in the night, promising me I would suffer with them. I gave up sleep completely for months at a time to avoid seeing those faces. To avoid them now, I looked up at the ship itself. On the side in bold letters was one word: Kobenhavn .
    As they got close enough to see us, some applauded our song seeming to forget the impossibility of how they were experiencing it. A few jumped off the ship, drawn into the water. Like many times before, I actually saw people inhaling it. I looked at the side of the ship, trying not to see a face or specific clothing. I didn’t want to distinguish one lost soul from another. I kept waiting. Where was the danger? When was it coming? Some of the men were swimming towards us. What if they got close enough to touch?
    And then, so quickly that I almost didn’t see it, the Ocean opened up and swallowed the ship whole!
    The action startled us into silence. I gasped. Miaka turned her head into my chest. Marilyn and Aisling quickly stood, suddenly surprised by the capacity of what they rested on. Apparently, we had done our job well enough for our sudden silence to not be a problem. The immediate hush seemed as much a shock as what we had just seen. Without our song to entangle their minds, a few of the men floating called out to us.
    “Help! Help me!” one called.
    “I can’t… I can’t breathe!” yelled another.
    I kept my eyes away from their faces and averted Miaka’s as well. That would help some. But always, for months afterwards, I would hear their voices. I carry those sounds like scars. But, as we had to, we walked away on the