Sirens | Teen Ink

Sirens

June 27, 2015
By samiller20 BRONZE, Burnt Hills, New York
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samiller20 BRONZE, Burnt Hills, New York
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We were considered bad luck, harmful to the sailors that traveled the Seven Seas. Our only desire was to lure them to their deaths with our pretty voices. We wanted no motive for the assassination; it was just a game to us. That wasn't the truth though. We had a motive. We wanted revenge.

Sirens have always been present in myths. Every sailor's worst fear. Some people may aruge that we aren't real, and others will on their lives that we are/ No one is certain. Not until it's too late.

We deadly women didn't just spring into existence for no reason. Many would say that we did/ We were God's idea of a 'funny' joke. There are some stories surrounding our origin and why we're here, some say we were made to punish cheating men. They're the closest to the truth.

My name's Charlotte Elizabeth Moran. I'm fifteen or at least, I look fifteen. My real age is over two hundred years old. I happen to be one of these mystical sirens. Let me tell you something about us; We want revenge, and we will get it.

 

I was a captain's daughter. My family wasn't rich, but we also weren't as bad off as everyone else in London. I lived with my mother in a small, two-story, attached brick row. My mother was a wonderful women. She had a sweet, caring nature. Always there if I needed her, with open arms, and a shoulder to cry on. She never judged me for any of my actions, instead she tried to help me. She was also rather pretty too. I take after her with my slender, hourglass figure; long, curly, dark brown hair; and my light, almost see-through blue eyes. Most people saw her, and wondered why she chose to stay with my father. She could've done so much better. It wasn't like she loved him anyway.

It was no secret that my mother had affairs. Everyone knew, including my father. She didn't try to hide it; she had been caught multiple times as it was. He paid no attention though, so long as he had a warm bed to come back to.

My father was a hard man that was incredibly strict. I didn't know him that well. He spent most of his time at sea; we sometimes went years without seeing or hearing from him. He sailed a merchant ship, and was constantly traveling from England, to the Indies, to France, and back to England.

I held a job as a maid at a very respectable gentlemen's house. I providd a steady income that helped support my mother and I when my father's paychecks were late, which was often.

My story doesn't begin with all this though. It starts with the ending of it, just as things fell apart.

 

It's 1350. The plague is making its way around Europe. It's highly contagious. Msost of the city of London has been affected by it. Despite the daily burning of bodies, the outbreak hadn't slowed. If anything it got worse. And, because of this terrible illness, most everyone had fallen into poverty. A lot was wrong.

The day this narrative begins is on a Tuesday. I was walking home from work, being careful to avoid the seemingly millions of hands that were reaching out for me. The sea of infected flesh that was trying to drag me under. They tried to grab my clothes, tried to pull me back. They begged me for money, for food, for help. I stepped over them, and kepyt walking, my head held high.

It was only ten o'clock, yet I was already on my way home. That day was not a normal day. I normally didn't come home until five, but I had been 'let go'. I had been fired, basically. Not because I hadn't done a good enough job or anything, but because money had been tight, and he couldn't afford to keep me on.

I sighed. My father's paycheck hadn't been sent in six week, and I had just lost our only source of income. God knew we needed the money now more than ever. But fate was cruel.

My father's ship was due to be in the harbor at six. My mother had been drilling the infomation into me for weeks now, never allowing it to leav my head for an instant. When she had fallen ill, she became even more insistent than before, if that was possible. She reminded me at least three times a day about my duty to go and fetch him. While my mind sorted through all these different thoughts, my feet made the journey home themselves.

When I arrived there, I was unable to get inside. The house was swarming with police, and church officials. A priest saw me from a far, and pulled me up short to talk. He explained the situation to me. My mother had, after a week of suffering, finally passed away from the plague. He told me that I unfortunatly wasn't allowed inside. The body had been removed anyway for burning.

I nodded my head numbly. Even though I had been expecting this for a while, it still came as a shock. My mother had been th only one there for me throughout my life. I had been extremely close to her, and now she was gone. I was practically an orphan. I had never really known my father.

The priest asked me if there was anyone who could care for me? Did I have any living relations who would be willing to take me in? My father, perhaps I shook my head no, and mumbled something. It was inaudible apparently, for he montioned for me to repeat myself. I obliged. I don't remember much else from that morning. Maybe it was too traumatic, and I removed it from my memory, or maybe I just stopped caring at that point, too busy processing the infomation that had been just handed to me.

Either way, at six o'clock, I found myself at the dock, hands clasped, rocking back and forth nervously on my heels, awaiting my father. I had no iea what I say to him, how I would break the news, the news that his wife had died, the wife he hadn't seen in three years.

Fifteen minutes later, his ship, the S.S. Dasiugo, pulled into the harbor. I waited patiently while it docked, and then unloaded. The ship hands came off first, carrying cargo. When they finished their work, most went off to the pub, although a few trudged down main street, off to visit their gals most likely. I scanned the crowd of men, but my father wasn't among them. Soon enough though, I spotted him, last off the ship.

By this time, it was six thirty, and I was ravenous. I had only put one thing into my body today, a slice of buttered bread at dawn/ I carefully made my way over to him in the jumbled mass of people that was referred to as a 'crowd'.

"Charlotte," my father said, no warmth in his voice, or the hint of a smile. "You look well. Where's your mother? Is she ill?"  There was a certain edge to his voice, as if he seriously doubted she could be sick. I didn't blame him. Chances would have been likely that she was off with one of her lovers. I shook my head no in answer to her question.

"No. She's-" I took a deep breath, steadying myself, and preparing for the words that were about to cross my lips. "S-She's d-dead. Died from the plague th-this morning."

"Oh." A slight frown crossed his lips, that was all he could spare for his dead wife. I was instantly enraged. This was my mother we were talking about, the women he had been married to for fifteen years, not some stranger on the street. Passerby had shown more sympathy than my own father did. "I'm sorry. That must be tough. Are you hungry? I'm famished."

I just nodded my head, lips pursed, livid, and followed in his wake away from the dock. I dragged my feet as my mind wandered. I was extremely bothered at the fact that he showed no real sympathy to me. That was the bare minimum I had expected/

Yes, I knew that my father, Captain Henry Moran, was an unemotional man. God knows why, but most sailors were. He was strict, and unforgiving, and rarely showed any kind of emotion. But still, one had the right to expect something, some kind of reaction to the fact that his wife was dead. Whether he really loved her or not.

Pretty soon, we had reached our destination. It was a decent ways away from the dock. The inside was crammed full of sailors anyway though, most of them drunken. The noise was almost unbearable. As soon as they saw me enter, catcalls and jeers were directed my way.

I blushed and sped up, so that I stood in my father's shadow. I prayed to whatever god there was that this would help to enter the atttention elsewhere. We found an empty booth near the back of the resturant, and I slid in quickly, my father taking the seat opposite me.

"So? How have you been?" He asked. I could tell instantly that he didn't actually care; he was just trying to fill the silence.

"Good...For the most part. You?"

"Well, if you count being immensely homesick, and never wanting to see the color blue again, 'good', that's what I am." I nodded slightly, and looked down at the menu on the table before me. I flipped through it once, and then a second time. Nothing seemed to jump out at me, so on my second round, I just chose the easiest option; chicken.

Before my father could make another attempt at an awkward conversation, a waitress appeared.

"Good evening, ma'am, sir. What can I get you today?"

"A hamburger, and a beer, please."

"Chicken."

"Alright then." She collected the menus, and departed, smiling, and batting her eyelashes at the men. My attention turned back to Captain Henry Moran as he cleared his throat. He looked lost for a moment before opening his mouth once more.

"I really am sorry about your mom, you know. It must be terrible. I know you two were pretty close."
"Yeah. I have no clue what I'm going to do without her. I mean, I got fired today, so I have no income, and the chances of finding another job are next to impossible with the Black Death going around. The priest asked me if there was anyone I could stay with, and I didn't know what to say, but now that I think about it...Maybe I could live with you on the ship? I could help out..." I was rambling, no idea as to what I was word-vomiting. I just blurted it all out. I didn't even have the faintest idea as to why. I didn't know this man, not like a daughter should know her father. But I was desperate. I refused to live on the street. But my choices were either there or my dad.
"Charlotte...I don't know. You're fifteen, a women! I'm sure you could find a way to live on your own. Besides, why would you want to waste years on a ship? Years with a dozen men that don't bathe?" He spoke slowly, as if he were trying to let me down easily, as if he actually cared about my feelings. I had been holding my breath, but now I let it out. I was disappointed. It didn't matter whether I knew this man or not, he was still my father, and I guess, deep down I hoped he would accept, even if just from guilt. But it had been a huge long shot, I realized.
"Yeah, I guess you're right." I was crestfallen with no idea why. I had no emotional attachment to this man, or anyone for that matter. I despised the sea as well. It was the one thing that had stood between my father and I for as long as I could remember. But I was terrified at the thought of being alone in the world, terrified of having to take care of myself with no one to fall back on. And while I could probably find someone to take me in, I didn't want to. This man was supposed to be my dad, he was supposed to look out fr me. Those other places were the places were the worst offenders when it came to the spread of this deadly illness, and they also were known to take advantage of young girls like me.
I reconsidered the idea for a moment. If I were to live in one of those places, or even on the street, there was a high chance I would catch the Death. And if that happened, and I died, which was inevitable, I would be with my mom again! But there was also much that I dreamed of doing with my life. Not anything extravagant, but things none the less, like getting married and raising kids. I shook my head to clear it.
It had been a silly thought, dreaming bout death. Those were the kinds of things that would get you locked out of heaven, the ideas that the Church frowned upon.
Just as I was about to move onto another topic, either in my head, or aloud, the waitress appeared, carrying our food. She placed the warm plates down in front of us, and left. Without a word, not bothering to make small talk, or even glance at what the other was having, my 'father' and I started eating. We passed the rest of the meal in silence.

By the time we left the restaurant, it was 8:30. The two of us couldn't g the house, it was on lock-down. Supposedly that would help stop the spread of the deadly disease that had separated my mother and I. Captain Moran proposed we spend the next couple of days in a cheap motel. I merely nodded my head in consent.
My father would leave in three day, off away on another voyage. I had until then to make my mind up about where I was going to live. As of right then, I had no clue whatsoever. Luck would most likely have me on the streets somewhere, with everyone else whose lives had been ripped apart by the Black Death.

We did normal father-daughter things in the three days we had. Or, at least I assume we did, having no prior experience with that sort of thing.
We went around the city for one day, and just looked at everything. After that I was occasionally dragged along when my father went to meet up with old sailing buddies. Mostly though, our time 'together', was spent with me in the motel room doing needlework of some kind, and my father off gambling and drinking.

When our valuable time was up, I walked my father to the dock. His ship was already set to sail, well almost. All they needed was him, and a few last minutes barrels that were empty.
I could sneak into one of those barrels, and get loaded onto the ship, along with everything else. They would never have a clue. Every night, I would be able to leave my hiding place and find food and such. This was it; the answers to my prayers.
I exchanged half-hearted goodbyes with my dad. Then, when he had left, I looked around, made sure the coast was clear, and dashed over to the barrels. I just managed to fit myself inside one, and secure the lid right before a sailor came over to load the barrel, and in turn me, on the ship.
"Oi! This one sure is heavy! I thought these were supposed to be empty!" A sailor's gruff voice called. It was muffled by the wooden lid.
"Maybe they lied, or it was a mix-up! Don't matter, load it!" Called another, maybe his friend? The barrel I was in, was lifted, and carried to the ship, about ten yards away from what I had seen. It was placed down, presumably on the deck. A lock was opened, along with a door, and I was heaved quickly up, and then thrown downward into a hatch. The barrel landed with a thud on its side. It rolled a tiny bit before stopping against a wall. I held my breath.
It seemed calm enough. A few more barrels were dropped, and only after did it truly settle down. I could hear the sound of footsteps above. Soon enough the ship was off. We were going! I was leaving London, the only I had ever known. Someday, maybe soon, I would be forced to start my life over again, in a brand new place.
Strangely enough, I was happy at the thought of going, not scared. It was odd. How many people got overjoyed at the prospect of leaving their childhood behind them? Maybe it was because I finally now had a chance to escape the evil clutches of disease, and poverty that dominated London, but I kind of doubted that.
Maybe, I just always had had a secret urge to travel around the globe. But I had subconsciously repressed it, knowing that it could never be satisfied. My family was poor, or had been, we hadn't had the money to pay for extravagant trips to Europe. But now I had the chance of a lifetime.

It’s been three days since I snuck onto my father’s ship. I’ve been sleeping in the cargo holds during the day, and for a portion of the night. Then, once I was absolutely positive that everybody had gone to bed, I would sneak out onto the deck. I take some food, and a drink, and roam the deck. Then, I would once more.

The sailors had started to pick up on their dwindling supplies even in the short amount of time we had been at sea. They blamed each other for late night snacking, or for having second helpings, both of which were strictly prohibited. It never even crossed anyone’s mind that there might be a stowaway on board.

I chuckled softly to myself as I slipped from the hold. I tiptoed past the captain’s study, and made my way towards the gallery. It was deserted. The men, incompetent as they were, never thought to post a guard by their food to see who was taking it.

I opened one of the crowded cupboards, took a tin cup, and made my way to the barrels that lined the back wall. I lifted the lid on one of the barrels, and slipped my hand inside. When it emerged seconds later, a biscuit was clutched in it. I dunked the cup into another barrel, and came back with fresh water. Then, I left, heading for the deck.

I leaned against a railing outside, and watched the rolling ocean miles below. As we cut through the dark mass, the ship left white, rolling waves in its wake. They were like tentacles, reaching behind us towards the mainland, towards my former home.

I missed my mother dreadfully. This past week was the only one in my memory where she hadn’t been with me in some way. It was a strange feeling, being on your own. Especially if the opposite was all you’ve ever known. It was good in a way, knowing you had no ties to anyone anymore, but it was terrifying for exactly the same reason. There was nobody to pick you back up if you fell; nobody to kiss the boo-boo and make it better. It was something I didn’t have experience with.

And then, I was ripped from my reminiscing of a future I would never see. A hand had closed around my hair, and yanked me backward, pulling me off balance. I yelped in pain, and dropped what I had been holding. The cup rolled down the deck, while the biscuit made the trip down to the sea.

“I found ‘em! I found the sneak! I knew there was somebody aboard the ship, stealing our food! And it’s a women too!” There it was. The thing I had been dreading; my capture.

I was yanked around again, this time to face the growing crowd of sailors. A sizeable amount had gathered there already, and at the head of it was my father.

“Darcy!” He was angry, livid was actually more appropriate. Who wouldn’t be? He had said no, told me I couldn’t tag along. Yet there I was, caught red-handed. “I believe I told you to stay in London. So why are you on my ship?” He folded his arms and stared at me. I was frozen, with no clue what to say. Captain Moran tapped his foot expectantly, waiting for my response.

“I-well-I-uhm…” I blushed and shook my head, trying to collect my thoughts. “I couldn’t stay there! I just couldn’t! I would’ve been dead in a week! So…I snuck aboard. I’ve been living in the cargo hold, and I only leave at night to get food. I’m not much trouble. Let me stay, please.” I was begging now, on my knees, tears rushing down my face, my hands clasped. I was in a life or death situation at the moment, and I would’ve given anything to escape it alive.

“What are we going to do with her, sir? You know it’s bad luck to have a women onboard!” Somebody screamed from the back of the crowd.

“Hush! This is my daughter we’re discussing!” My father turned to me. “Now, Darcy, you can’t stay here. We didn’t plan for an extra person sneaking about.”

I nodded mutely, and then opened my mouth to respond, but couldn’t. It was like the words were stuck in my throat. I tried again, but to the same result. Finally, I gave up, and shook my head, looking down at my feet.

Next thing I knew, the two men that had been holding my arms, were dragging me to the same railing, where moments ago, I had been leaning. I couldn’t fathom this sudden development. My ‘father’ was having me thrown overboard.

“No! No! You can’t do this! You-You just can’t!” I screeched, my voice was reaching an unbelievably high pitch. “I’m your daughter! Your daughter!” This was just a bad dream, that was it. I wasn’t actually being thrown overboard because of a dumb superstition.

“I’m sorry, Darcy, but I have to. It’s bad luck. We can’t keep you here, and since we happen to be miles out at sea…Well, this is our only option.” He smiled, sadistically. He felt no sympathy to me, he seemed to be enjoying this. I was his daughter, his flesh and blood and he could care less that I was about to die.

Captain Moran flicked his hands outwards. The sailors clearly knew what this meant. I was released. Down I went, falling to the water miles below.

Before I could even think, I hit the water with a splash. It was like ice, cutting into my skin like a knife. The waves were rough too, like those before a storm, and they pulled me under instantly.

Water rushed into my mouth before I could close it, and it burned my throat. I felt a piece of seaweed wrap around my ankle. I went to prey it off, but to no avail. The waves continued to whip me around, as if I were a doll.

I couldn’t breathe. My eyesight was going dark around the corners. My lungs were on fire, and I could feel a dull ache spread through my body. I was dying. I kept fighting against the current even though my movements were getting slower. I couldn’t give up. I had to keep going.

But then…I could breathe again. I had no clue why, but I didn’t care. It felt like a weight had been lifted off my chest. I sucked in air, and was flooded with strength. I had a new surge of energy to keep fighting with.

My legs felt glued together. I couldn’t separate them, and I looked down it was as if the flesh had been melted together. There also seemed to be a greenish glow to them as well. And was the outline of….scales coming through?
I couldn’t believe it. This wasn’t right. I was dying, drowning, hallucinating to dull the pain. I could hear the angels already, calling me home. Soft hands closed around my biceps, and pulled me along gently. They were leading me home to my mom…
And then the world went dark…

I woke up much later, who knows how long. I also happened to be surrounded by mermaids? Maybe I was still asleep. But deep down, I knew that wasn’t the truth. I could hear the singing again. I lifted my head gingerly.

One of the women forced me back down, and shook her head, clucking disapprovingly. She spooned something into my mouth. I couldn’t place it, but it was like a home-cooked meal. Something after a long day of work that would be ready on the table when I came home. It helped to placate the pounding in my skull.

Someone else appeared, and explained to me what was going on. I had been thrown overboard, and had been drowning. The ocean had taken pity on me, as it had done with all those assembled there. I had been transformed; made into a siren, complete with the tail and the beautiful voice.

And that’s it, that’s the story. I came to live there, among the sirens, among the ones I was like. I learned to love, every last girl, and I learned to accept their mission, to take revenge on the sailors.

That’s the origin of sirens, at least my origin. We want revenge, not cruel murder for the sack of it. We want something in exchange for the lives we lost. The ocean pitied us, and changed us as we were dying, and now we’ve decided to use it for revenge.
So next time someone questions us, just refer them here.



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