Whooosh, whooosh, crash!  Whooosh, whooosh, crash! The captain heard the waves pound against the seabed.  He was supervising the crew while they loaded the mounds of food, heaping piles of treasure from their recent raid, and the most entertaining raid of all: women. They finished stocking up the ship and packed the women away as the Black Dahlia headed out across the gleaming Mediterranean to finish its year long trip of raiding the island natives.

The sun was shining over the aquamarine water, the clouds were opaque in the sky, making it the perfect day for the Captain Blackbeard and his raid-ready crew.  However, he saw some ominous clouds just beyond the horizon, but the ruthless captain did not believe in bad omens.  Although the captain couldn’t have been more oblivious, he sailed on and set out for the long summer ahead of him. Stocked full of 9-10 months’ worth of food, the barracks were on the brim of explosion. Even though the voyage was planned for longer, Black Dahlia was known for its notoriously good raids of food, gold, wine, and treasure troves of goodies.  They surely had nothing to worry about.  Right?

Months rolled on…

Month seven.  Two successful raids.  The men became restless, the women cranky and demanding to go home.  All the food... Gone.  Stale and crusty biscuits, festering meat, and the skivvies of moldy rat pellet cheese were all that was left.  Their growling stomachs could not take it much longer.  Being so hungry, they would’ve eaten just about anything; including each other.  They threw the women overboard to save room for the rum, but even that had run dry.

Captain had had enough.  He’d been eyeballing Jenkins for the last hour, sizing up his meaty body.  Finally, he lunged for him. In mid-air, something caught him. Thud! He’d been knocked on the deck.  Smitty saw him coming for Jenkins, he knew some time or another this would happen.

“What in the name of Sam Hill do you think you’re doin’?”
“Cap’n, I saw you comin’ fer Jenkins and I hadda do somethin’.”
The captain grumbled as he tried to calm himself, grimacing as he turned back to the wheel.  Wait, where’d the compass go?!  “Smitty, where’s the compass,” he barked.
“Cap’n, I-I don’t know”

It was gone. When Smitty lunged at the captain, it went overboard. They had no way of knowing where they were.  The sun had fallen behind the clouds and the stars were long forgotten in the rush of anger Captain had electrifying his body.  The captain pulled in a sharp breath to scold the crew — there is was again. The singing. They all thought it was the hunger pains causing delusions, but now they all wondered.  It sounded far off in the distance, but singing meant people, and people meant food, and food..? Food meant no more hunger. (And possible raiding.) They had no idea where they were going, but on they sailed. It couldn’t possibly get worse.
With no compass, they had no sense of direction and ended up in the Dead Sea.  Upon an island, they came. Among the island, there were coves, caves, palm trees, an abundance of abandoned grass huts. It looked like a gold mine to their dry, beady eyes. Dark and eerie looking, there was one cave that stood out.  That one.  That was where the singing was coming from.  It was just so enticing... they had to keep going. Beautiful and magical, so mysterious and enchanting, the mystical music pulled them in.

Booom! Crash! Splash!
“Whoa, what happened?”
“Where are we?”
“Ugh, my head.”
They’d crashed! The ship was surely sinking, and they all jumped overboard; nothing to save in the barracks anyways.  All in a panic, they screamed and sprint-swam for land.
“Ah! S-somethin’ has my leg!”
“What are these—”
“Hel—”

Too late. They were all underwater, gasping for air when the sirens locked their iron-like grip around the ankles of the screaming men. Ancient mythological creatures known as sirens, or mermaid-like sea mammals, (less than half human) had ahold of their legs. Beautiful and dangerous, the sirens were pulling them down to the dark, murky bottom of the sea.  As the sirens drug them deeper, they writhed and squirmed to get free, but sadly to no avail. 

Deep, deep down in the jagged, almost black sea, the former voyagers were being held captive.  This was the first real treat the spine-chillingly beautiful sirens had had in what felt like an infinity.  Black Dahlia harboring over 50 sailors, there was plenty enough to dine on.  Underneath the cave where the “accidental” shipwreck took place, a ridge made of igneous rock and cement-like walls was being used as a ritualistic sanctum.  A bubble of fresh air had been trapped under the formation as the magma cooled millions of years ago, creating the dungeon.  It was as if it had been made just for the blood-hungry sirens when they began to perform their moon rituals over the years.  Many of the men were coming to, just as the sun had set. 

“It’s time! The feast must begin!”
Oh, God no. Please let this be a dream. Please let this be a horrible, horrible nightmare from the crashing the ship. This cannot be happening.

Unfortunately, it was happening. All of it. They were going to be eaten alive and there was nothing that any of them could do about it.  The sirens were painstakingly gorgeous. With their ruby red lips, soft, yet angular facial features, glowing and intoxicating eyes, and smooth, silky soft, flowing hair, it was hard to resist.  Even their razor sharp teeth were pearly white and hard not to stare at. 

They had a thing for the meatiest men; they bleed faster and don’t squirm.  Starting with Smitty, the First Mate, and the ritual had begun.  Man after man, the gorgeous sea creatures drove a dagger through their chest cavities and devoured their hearts.  The Black Dahlia just settled into its long-forgotten place at the bottom of the ocean. And the last blood-curdling screams echoed through the night.