Chapter Text
The sea is a world filled with horrors. I’ve always thought of it that way.
Pulling you in into a place where you can never come back from.
Until one night.
One night, during a heavy thunderstorm, when I was in bed, struggling to rest.
One night when I witnessed an incredible discovery.
I could hear the muffled noises of thunder outside. It was a ravaging storm, and I was lucky enough to survive it.
The intense patter of rain itched my brain. The room was at a low temperature, as if I was lying down on ice.
I shuddered and tossed and turned. I was unwell, and at a bad timing. My throat was hoarse and dry, voice cracking every time I breathe.
I shut my eyes and pulled the blanket over me. Until I could hear a whistle. It was a song. It was soothing, and my breathing slowed down.
It didn’t stop; it continued for the next hour. The whistles made me curious. I wanted to jump out of my bed and go outside to check.
Then I realized. It wasn’t curiosity.
It was a trance.
A spell.
The whistles made me more dizzy. I had to stop this.
I stumbled out of bed and into the floor. I pushed myself up and grabbed a hair tie.
I tied my hair in a hurry while pacing through the rooms to get out of the shade and (stupidly) go outside in the storm.
It was pouring and the pavement was a stream of water. All my clothes and my hair were soaked in rainwater.
Could this be a cyclone?
I squinted my eyes to see a far away spinning object, made out of air. My breath was shaky, and I took in deeper breaths every time.
I composed myself and listened closely for the whistling. All I could hear was the rage and power of the cyclone.
Is this a trick? Have I become untreatable? Has the virus I have inhabited taken over my whole body?
I turned around to open the door when I finally heard the whistle. That sweet yet poisonous whistle was coming from the beach.
I rushed to the beach barefoot. Rocks and splinters and dust and water sticking to my heels.
A vast, grey empty sea was in front of me with threatening waters. No sign of color was present; except bioluminescent creatures as they claimed the shore as their
dominion. I saw to my right a glowing figure, outshining through the rocks and sand.
It was a woman; she was lying down on the damp sand whistling. She had no legs. Instead she had a long fin in replacement, adorned in shining scales in shades of blue and silver. The woman wore a blue corset with white lace. Pearls were sewn onto the corset. She wore gold earrings, and she had deep, long dark hair. It was braided together and rested on her back.
That’s when I realized that wasn’t an ordinary woman.
That was a siren.
She immediately spotted me and turned red in the face. Her expression was in shock. “Wait!” I called, but she dived into the water before she could hear me.
I stood still in shock, even in the condition I was in, and I thought to myself:
Beautiful.
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After a month of exhilarating medications and weeks of being bedridden, I collected my energy and brought back my regular self from the virus I inhabited a month ago. I was ready to travel to Muscat to visit my companions who work at a postal service.
I lived in Salalah, so I would travel by sea to reach my friends. Since I’m a fisherman, so I traveled to Muscat when I could to use it as an excuse.
It was a Friday morning, when I packed my bag and Dia barged into my room. My roommate.
“You hate me so much, that you decided to pack earlier than usual? Do you want to get rid of me that much?” She rolled her eyes.
“Very funny,” I said, as I shoved a jacket into my duffel bag.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Dia threw a roll of yarn and a box at my face.
“Ow!” I yelled. It was my crochet kit. That’s what I was missing.
“Thanks,” I felt a smile tugging at my lips.
“Let’s go,” Dia said. “The port’s a long walk, as usual.”
The sky consisted of almost evenly spaced clouds, if it weren’t for their size. I could hear the crunching of the rocks below my boots and the tinkling of keychains from Dia’s messenger bag.
The air was crisp, yet cold. There was no hint of wind at that moment.
“I should come with you next time you go to Muscat,” Dia said in a casual tone. “It’s better to have a partner when it comes to pissing off Sylvie.”
I grinned at the statement. “It’s easy enough to do that with only one person. Plus, she has Cyrus and Paul; I think that’s more than enough.”
Dia gazed at her shoes in a train of thought. It didn’t look like a happy one. “I haven’t spoken to her in so long,”
She sighed. “She’s the closest friend of ours we have. Location-wise.”
“I’m sure she misses you as much as you do,” I chimed.
We were striding in silence. Dia looked preoccupied, as if she was thinking of what to say.
“There have been more sightings!” She squeaked.
I stopped and stared at her. “…of what?”
“Nothing!” She cried. “Nothing at all.”
I wasn’t bothered to ask. I bet it was about the siren.
When I told Dia, she didn’t believe me at first. But she found one a day after she denied my claim. She’s been tense about it, and doesn’t feel safe in Salalah.
We reached the port, and it was filled will a crowd of people. The floor was rough and had cracks in it. It was built with wooden planks—not particularly strong ones—which made me anxious. The noise of kids laughing, families wishing goodbye to each other with cracking voices and the lapping of the ocean waves surged into my ears.
I could see dozens of ships on both of the sides where I was standing. They varied in shapes and colour and materials. I took in a heavy breath of air for the pungent smell of salt to hit my nose. Dia’s arm locked into mine in fear. She hated the port. Hated it so much.
“The sea looks never ending,” She breathed. “Like in a painting.”
“Sure,” I agreed. “Like in a painting.”
I gave Dia a hug and rushed to the ship. She waved goodbye, and the ship started moving.
The ship was filled with large families and crewmen, and I could still see Dia from the port. She looked petrified of being in the port, so she turned around and left. There were children running throughout the ship.
I held my bag and scoured for a place to rest.
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That godforsaken whistling.
It was still stuck in my head. Even after a month. Sometimes I couldn’t tell if there was actual whistling or if it was in my head.
And the siren. She was…astonishing.
I still remember how calm she was. Until she saw me, of course.
I was lying on a bed, with a mattress hard as concrete. I was staring at the wooden ceiling and heard a few footsteps above now and then. I could hear the soft patter of rain outside. It wasn’t strong, but it was almost silent.
The ship was slowly rocking back and forth, pairing with the whistling of the winds outside.
I couldn’t sleep. I was too excited. To use fishing as an excuse to see Sylvie. To see Luna. To see their shitty employees. Sylvie would write to me about her stupid grudge with Cyrus. It died down a little, and it has become peaceful. She told me that Paul found out about Cyrus being a vampire, that she and Luna made songs and recorded them on vinyls. She also told me about how the weather in Muscat has become cooler. That’s a relief.
Yet excitement wasn’t entirely on my mind. It was that siren. Will I ever meet her again? Is she even real?
Right when I was overthinking, my peace of mind was shattered. The whistling was back.
“Shit,” I gasped. The whistling was faint, and soft. It sounded like it came from below the ship.
I rummaged through my bag to get my coat. It had a hood to protect myself from the rain.
I slowly opened the door attempting to not make a noise so I wouldn’t alarm anyone. The floor was wooden and hollow. Everybody could probably hear me.
I tiptoed through halls, following the whistling. I ended up outside, and it was drizzling. My coat didn’t absorb the raindrops, so I was fine for now. The whistling was clearer, louder. I rushed to the edge of the ship and peeked into the sea to see her.
I saw her. The siren.
I saw her jet black hair blending into the deep, dark sea.
The siren met my gaze with curiosity. She wasn’t scared.
What was I going to do? I couldn’t just jump off the ship.
Before I could even think, she swam into the depths of the ocean. Without a trace.
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It was raining in Muscat. Miraculous. And at night too.
I was sitting inside on a sofa in Sylvie’s post office. Luna, Paul, Cyrus and Sylvie were also there. There were cups of water on the table, along with a radio player.
“How’s business going?” I asked, taking a sip of cold water.
“Not bad,” Sylvie responded. “Night shifts are great. No clue about Cyrus’ opinion on them, though.” Cyrus was busy staring at the raindrops pattering at the window.
“Haven’t seen rain in 3 years,” he muttered.
“Sylvie, not to be rude, but we still have a shift,” Paul sighed, gazing at Cyrus with worry. “Can’t you take Aofie elsewhere?”
I blinked for a second. “Right, sorry.”
“Come with me to the beach,” Sylvie smiled. We both stood up from the couches and Sylvie reached out for her umbrella on the coat hanger beside the door.
===============
There were lots of lights in Shatti Beach. Kids were playing in the rain and kicking sand.
“How’s Dia?” Zaylin asked with a soft tone.
“She misses you a lot.” I sighed. The air reeked of salt yet there was a clean scent lingering in the air.
“I miss her as well,” She chuckled. “Haven’t seen her in…a year?”
“Two years.”
“Wow.”
Rain pattered onto Sylvie’s umbrella which we shared. The sand was soggy and our feet dug into it with every step we took.
Oman felt like home. For the first time ever. It was a one in a million chance, but it did feel like home. I was happy with my friends, and the weather treated us with respect. Relief and gratitude washed over me.
And yet, I was curious. Curiosity was rotting inside my brain, and it made my heart feel heavy.
“What do you know about sirens?”
Sylvie stopped walking. She looked around in anxiety, rubbing her left palm with her right thumb. My assumption was she didn’t want anybody to hear her. She took a deep breath before speaking. “They’ve been following a migratory route,” she said. “They’ve stopped by in Oman. Usually causing trouble around Salalah. Yae…nearly died because of one, actually.”
She nearly died?
“How?” I asked, my voice trembling. Yae was a very close friend of ours, especially to Dia. God knows what she would go through if she found out she died.
“She was walking in a park in Salalah, and she heard a voice calling for her. She thought it was me.” Sylvie rubbed the back of her neck. Her eyes were starting to become glassy, but I wasn’t really sure because of the rain.
“Aofie, they can mimic voices. They can trick people. Kids have gone missing.” She looked at some kids trying to build a fort to avoid the rain. She looked back at me.
“Luckily, they’re only here for one more week. There were also less sightings in Muscat compared to Salalah.”
I exhaled a sigh of relief.
Sirens sound evil and manipulative, especially after what Sylvie went through.
“There’s a tea shop nearby on the beach,” Sylvie smiled. “I’ll get us some.” She ran off, leaving the umbrella with me and covering her head with her coat.
I looked into the dark, roaring sea, worry clouding my eyes. What does the siren want with me?
Sylvie came rushing back and we decided to go back to the postal office since it was dangerous to be outside.