Work Text:
There’s a siren in the pond by our university, between my dorm building and the science center. Algae drips from her iridescent scales, and gills climb up the ghastly celadon skin of her neck. After the first time I saw her, I went to the library and read everything about sirens, and mermaids. Instead of understanding, I was more confused than when I started.
“Your kind normally doesn’t live in ponds,” I told her on the walk back. The siren only gave me a closed-lipped smile.
Now, every day on the way back from marine biology class, I ask her questions. Why isn’t she in the ocean? How did she get here? She grins and says nothing, but I know that one day she’ll tell me why she’s in our little pond, and scientists across the country will read my paper. The desire to understand burns more fiercely with each non answer.
I glance at her as I make my way to the dorm. “Hey,” I say. “Where did you come from?
To my surprise, her mouth opens, revealing sharp, glinting teeth. The scientist in me perks up; those are the teeth of a carnivore. Could she tell me about her diet?
“If you come closer, I’ll tell you,” the siren says. It’s strange; most texts compare sirens’ voices to windchimes or lark song, but this one sounds like the burbling of a geyser. Why is her voice like that? Does she sound different underwater? What’s her name ?
The questions pound beneath my skin, so I wade a few steps into the pond, barely feeling the cold, slimy water seeping into my Converse. I’m still wondering how she learned English when the siren’s weblike fingers wrap around my forearm, and she drags me to the pond’s bottom with a silvery laugh.