Sirens

Sirens

On a rocky outcrop, many miles from land, there lived two beautiful creatures.  They were woman-like in form yet their delicate bones, large eyes and glossy, dark hair gave them the look of pair of birds.  They had spent a lifetime of wishing that they were birds, they often watched the gulls soaring above them on the cool sea breezes.  They listened to the swallows chittering to each other as they made their long journey across the ocean.  Yet, the two sisters were destined to remain on their rocky island for all eternity.

Peering into the frothy water, toes curling into the seaweed, one of the creatures sat.  Her eyes darted from side to side, judging depth, until, with one swift movement; she grasped a silver fish with claw-like fingers.  She swallowed the white flesh and bones in a few delicate gulps.  She turned to her sister, her dark hair hanging in wet strands across her face, and smiled. 

The dark grey clouds floated across the sky in reflection of the foam on the waves beneath.  A cool October flavoured rain streaked the rocks that the twins lay, entangled limbs and cold eyes, upon.  Around midday, a few beams of sunlight broke through the clouds to dance upon the waves.  The sirens roused themselves from a depressive slumber and sat together on the upmost rock.  As if rehearsed many times, a beam of sunlight moved from the glittering waves to shine upon the island. 

The sirens stood up, their ragged filmy green dresses, like algae on still water, fluttered in the breeze.  From somewhere deep within their conjoined souls came the most beautiful sound imaginable.  They sung words understood in any language, by any species in any time or place.  Their voices cracked like their broken hearts and egg-shell blue eyes blinked back tears. 

In the dark waters around them, seals began to bob in the waves, their liquid eyes understanding.  Gulls circled overhead and added their piercing screams in sympathy.  The limpets on the rocks absorbed the words, the anemones stretched out their tentacles, the transparent jellyfish floated nearby and the dolphins circled the rocks.  The pink thrift stretched out its leaves and the seaweed streaked the sea with iridescence.

Far away, a small fishing boat was rocked by the waves.  Three fishermen, tired of rough waters, allowed their vessel to drift closer.  They had all heard the tales but were far too worldly wise to believe in fairy stories.  The sound was simply a trick of the wind, seals birthing in the dim cliff side caves or a memory of churches and choirs.

On the distant horizon, a beam of sunlight had broken through the grey clouds and shone down upon the sirens' rock.  It was towards this rock that the fishermen drifted closer.  One man, mackerel scales glittering as he pulled his fingers nervously through his wiry grey beard, muttered that 'twas unnatural like.  Yet, for the youngest of the three, hope once more blossomed in his chest, its hot tendrils creeping from his heart. 

As they neared the island, they could make out the shape of the two sirens.  Their eyes rolled skyward, long white fingers gripped the seaweed, lungs struggling behind visible ribs.  The youngest fisherman had never felt such sadness and longing.  His love for them floated across his grey eyes.  In that moment, the sirens, seemed to sense their audience and their heads, in perfect unison, turned towards them. 

The cold, pale eyes, lacking in any emotion or soul, turned the fishermen’s hearts to ice.  A sudden dread made every nerve, every pulse of blood in their bodies stop for a moment.  From a slow, draining feeling of death came a quick, euphoric feeling of life for the youngest fisherman.

All his life he had wished he were somewhere else, someone else.  A breeze that tasted of beloved books rather than salt soothed his hot skin.  In those moments, when the sirens looked into his soul, he remembered every sentence that had ever moved him, every song that had ever made him cry, every painting that had made him see the truth for a moment. 

He glanced at the two older men for one last time and pushed himself back over the edge of the boat. 

Somehow he had forgotten how to swim and the sirens clapped and laughed at his thrashing and gasping.  All the memories fought for breath in his head.

Copper beech trees… a cat stretched out on a rag rug… fingers pressed against his cheek… the taste of apples… a candle flame… droplets of white paint on her face… brambles prickling at his skin… an alcohol induced dizziness… a hard punch… church bells… the feeling of ribs under skin… frosty grass and cobwebs… dawns and dusks… roast potatoes… sunshine scented bedclothes. 

The memories overwhelmed the two sisters who had never felt alive.  A young man’s life felt so completely in just a few moments.  The fisherman managed to swim a few strokes and grasped at the rocky ledge.  The sirens reached down with pale arms and pulled him up onto the grass.

He lay amongst the grass and thrift and looked up.  The sirens’ pale faces were framed by a ghostly aura of stars and night sky.  They stroked his face with cold fingers and lifted his hands to press his palms against their sunken cheeks.  With all the energy he could find, he moved his fingers against their temples and they closed their dark, nervous eyes. 

Had anyone who believed in fairy tales happened upon the rocky island at dawn the following morning they would have seen the young fisherman lying as still as the rocks themselves.  On either side of him lay the broken bodies of the two sirens, the taste of life still on their lips.           
     
...........................................................

Thanks for reading!  I've been feeling so uninspired with my writing for such a long time yet still have a strong desire to want to write, to create new things and to improve.  This piece of writing is something I've had knocking around for a while and I thought I'd stick it on here in the hopes that I'd get a few thoughts on it.  All feedback (good and bad) is much appreciated and will be returned.