Wild Sirens

The sun shone red over the marsh that evening, the evening that she first saw his face. She never thought of it as a warning; it was merely just another pretty sunset. Nothing like the sunsets she’d seen back when she was living by the ocean, but pretty and pastoral enough by mainland standards. Trucks rumbled past in the distance, along the hard county freeway. She floated in the water, rocking gently against the reeds, and stared up at the sky.

Suddenly a splash overhead and she leaped in fright, dove down into the opaque waters just as a confused man—hardly more than a boy—splooshed to where she had just been floating. She stared up through the water, watched his chest heave, his green eyes dart around.

“Hello?” he called, and she watched his face change from confusion to fear. She knew he was not from around here by his lack of accent. Hadn’t the locals warned him about the haunted marsh? About her?

Another splash, but this time it was a dog, some kind of collie mix, paddling about in the reeds, annoying the red-winged blackbirds. The young man smiled at his dog and shook his head in the fading light. Together they half-swam, half-waded through the water to the shore.

She slowly rose from her spot, barely a ripple stirring the water, only her silvery eyes watching after him. He did not turn back, but tossed his blonde hair out of his eyes and ruffled his dog’s wet fur.
All she had to do to call him back was open her mouth and speak. Any noise from her lips would be the sweetest sound that he’d ever heard, and he’d come back to her. She used to lure men to their deaths just for fun, eons ago, when magic was still fresh in the world. But now, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. He would surely drown, smitten by her voice as all the others had.

She followed him anyway. It was easy in the light of dusk to pull the glamour around herself, to clothe her naked body in dew and twilight. She followed him back to his house on the edge of the marsh, and watch him shower off the muck, set flame to the leeches. He didn’t bother to close his curtains.

The dog gravitated toward her, whimpered and whined till she pet him, scruffled his matted fur.
A second car pulled into the driveway and she fled the house for the huge oak that guarded the edge of the territory. Leaves hung from broken branches in brown clumps, and she pressed herself against the rough oak, as though she were no more than moss or lichen.

A woman walked confidently to the house, from the large truck, and knocked on the door. The naiad’s heart pounded in her chest when the front light blazed, but she was just outside of the light’s periphery. The man opened the door and smiled. He and the woman greeted each other with a pleasant hug, and the naiad watched him linger, his face buried in her dark hair. She pulled away laughing, and went inside.

Oh, how Naiad’s heart ached. She wished she was the one inside, riding on that man. But what could she do? No words from her mouth would have any meaning to his ears. It would be nothing but enchantment, and he would be doomed to a watery death, for she could not survive long outside of the water. She leaned her head back against the mighty oak and heaved a sigh. The dog flopped down beside her. A hand found its way to his comforting warm fur, and she knew that she could sit here forever; dry out for another glimpse of that perfect face.

The silver moon hung low over the golden-smeared horizon when she heard the sound. At first, she wasn’t sure what it was, but the dog whined and slunk away, its tail between its legs. Naiad stood slowly, maintaining her lichen mirage, still swathed in sparkling twilight. There it was again, that high-pitched keening. What was that sound?

The girl stumbled around the corner of the house, her long black hair tangled with sex and pheromones. She let out another shriek. One arm cradled the other, and Naiad saw it, dripping down her front, running between her legs as though her menses had come.

Blood.

The beautiful man stalked around the back of the house, a huge dripping knife clenched in his muscular hand. He clenched it so hard his veins stood out. The girl let out a soft sob and struggled to her feet. She yelled words at him, kicked and hit. His face was contorted with rage, but it was the most beautiful rage that Naiad had ever seen. He lifted the knife, and the woman fell to her knees.

“Stop,” Naiad said, stepped out of her shadow of twilight and lichen, and toward the two humans. The woman turned to look at her, wild-eyed, fear smeared across her face like the blood across her legs. The man stopped where he stood, knife poised, but his gaze peeled away from the girl to Naiad. His hand quivered, as though an invisible hand were holding it. She sighed, the barest audible sigh, and his eyes glazed over.

“Go,” she said to the girl, who didn’t need to be told twice; she was up and running, screaming profanities at them both as she slammed the door to her car and revved it into high gear.

Naiad turned to him, whose face could make a goddess envious, and gently took the knife from his fist. He stared at her, mesmerized, and bent down to kiss her. She moved away, finger to his soft lips. No, it wasn’t right. But she couldn’t undo it now. And soon she would feel so dry that she would have to return to the water. He would drown like all the others; because dying was better than having your will stripped away.

They sat out on the porch in the watery sunlight for a long time, and he watched the dogs chase the water birds out of the reeds, and she wondered if she’d made the right choice after all.


based on this.
1048 words.