Siren

The ship’s crew was drunk on pilfered wine as they thunderously danced above deck, the Grecian sun turning lower over a purple and black horizon. Winds were fair and steady; the stars were their only needed guide. What luck to be in the Gods’ favor.

“Aegaeon must have gone to bed early! What calm seas we have!” A deckhand raised his cup towards the sea.

“You look like you should follow his example brother,” another suggested, clapping him on the shoulder. His shipmate swayed and rocked yet the boat remained flush to Poseidon’s domain.

“Too much wine - not enough bread,” the deckhand reasoned. It was a long time away from home, and an equally long return. There would be plenty of nights to rejoice in the spoils of battle. He swallowed most of his drink and turned over the cup to give a final offering to the god of the seas.

“Hail, Poseidon,” he slurred. He turned down a helping hand, and the Greek stumbled below deck to sleep off his inebriation.

The men sailed from victory over the village Eresos, on the island of Lesbos. They lost fewer in battle than anticipated, one of their many reasons for celebration. It would take them at least a month to reach port in Olympia, where more wine - and certainly women - awaited their return. With the stars and moon as their lanterns, the crew engaged in song and dance, spitting with laughter - telling obscene tales of how they killed their enemies, of how they made the men watch as they took their wives. These triumphant bandits howled like wolves and fought for the last of the meat; Grease dripped from their chins, pieces of bread ripped apart to sop up their messes. They swung their bodies around with little regard as they kicked animal carcasses and empty carafes overboard.

“We are truly worthy of the Gods’ favor!” They grew more confident as the night drew on, more blind to their barbaric tendencies. With each cup poured more stories and bragging.

“I took his wife, then I took his head!” The soldier thrust his sword towards the sky and let his body carelessly fall backwards with a cackle.

“But what about the children?”

“What about them?” Again, he laughed. The other men laughed with him, for they were all guilty of similar atrocities. Unable to see the wrong of their ways - because they were the victors - the soldiers and crew continued to regale one another with stories.

The night crawled on - the stale stench of piss and wine hung like a fog across the deck of the ship. Morning almost drew breath at the end of the sea. It took hours for the last man to finally pass out from too much to drink, and when he did, he was immediately awoken with a scream.

“Stowaway! Whore! Men, come look!”

One by one, the crew - as they fought hangovers and dreams - rose to see what the deckhand discovered.

“Look men! It seems the gods did not favor us so much after all! Fair seas, sure, but a woman aboard our ship?” He clamored up the stairs to the baron deck as he struggled with the thin porcelain wrists of a young woman. She was clearly from the island of Lesbos.

“How did she get on board? How did no one see her?” The captain gestured to his crew before returning a deadly gaze onto the girl. “And you,” he began, “what are you doing on my ship?”

The deckhand threw the girl to the deck. Her knees hit hard on the wooden planks, wet with leftover wine and sea spray. She slid forward, perfectly delivered to the captain’s feet. Her dress, dampened, gathered around her as she picked her head up and sat back on her knees.

“Please, I didn’t mean - “

“What… are you doing on my ship, girl?”

“I - I hid. I hid when you attacked my father’s ship in port. I jumped ships. I waited, I… I tried to leave but you were too fast. I… I’m sorry.” Tears fell freely from her and carved rivers through the salt on her cheeks as she pleaded for mercy from the barbarian crew. The captain showed no sympathy and the rest of his men looked on like a pack of rabid dogs.

“I know what we should do with her,” one suggested. He sneered and licked his lips, still stained with wine.

“No,” the captain interrupted, “she is an omen. Bad luck. The gods favored us with victory and fair seas. She needs to be returned to Poseidon. As a sacrifice.”

Many of the men groaned, because they knew it’s what was best. They knew not to argue with their captain, and they had many other women in Olympia. The young girl wept, devastated and relieved; her dignity would be spared but her life would not. She was hoisted off the floor by her elbows, wrists and ankles bound, and a weight attached to her feet.

“This is to make sure you get there,” the deckhand said, securing her fate. He smiled as he said it, half-rotten teeth, dull and grotesque. She thought in that moment, death would not be so awful.

“A sacrifice to Poseidon!” The men began to chant in unison as they shoved the young girl further along to her demise.

“Oh, and your father, young whore,” the captain said from behind the hilt of his sword, “I remember very well just how I killed him.”

With those final words, the girl was thrown over the side of the ship. Her dress hit the murky black and spread like ink. The shock of the water made her try and catch her breath, only to inhale the salty Aegean Sea deep into her lungs. She sunk further and further down until she was completely gone from the captain’s view. She looked up at the underside of that rotten ship, the morning sun obstructed. Her eyes remained fixed until the ship only blended in with the darkness. Deeper, colder, tighter, she began to panic and writhe. She was dying, for certain.

When the girl finally closed her eyes and waited for the cold grip of death to take her to Hades’ feet, she felt a hand pull at her arm. It shook her and made her inhale again, except this time she could exhale. She choked and coughed until her breathing steadied. Slowly, her eyes adjusted to a figure before her. A woman - a glowing woman.

“Young girl,” the woman said, “what have they done to you?” The being sounded familiar, like the mother she once knew. She pulled at her chains and broke them with ease. “Why have they sent you down to me, child?”

At first, she was afraid to open her mouth. The girl took a slow, deep breath - and when it felt safe - began. “They killed my family. My father. I hid. I was found. They called me a whore. They… sacrificed me.”

“Those barbarians thought they could sacrifice an innocent life to the goddess of the sea?” Amphitrite threw a hand in disgust. The girl then realized that this impressive, glowing creature was the wife of Poseidon.

“They attack Lesbos. They toss the carcasses of the fallen and their feast into my sea; they throw you into my sea!” She swirled in circles around the girl. The woman’s voice quaked deep within her ears. She still could not understand how she was alive.

“How am I here?” She tried to look around once more but was unable to see very far at all; The bottom of the Aegean was blacker than the stormiest night on land.

“I cannot make you immortal, but I can make you a creature,” she said. Amphitrite sighed gently and calmed. She placed her hand on the young girl’s shoulder.

The girl was then surrounded by glowing fish. She looked around her to see the sea floor, beyond to other creatures that gathered with curiosity, and then finally, down at herself. Her wrists sprouted fins like fish her father used to catch. She swirled her hands around and watched amazed as they flared out in the water, holding her. When she looked down, her feet weren’t feet at all. Where they once were bound at the ankles, the young girl had a tail. She gasped in disbelief and horror for a moment, then in wonder.

“You are one of my creatures now. You are a siren. Do you know what sirens are?”

The girl nodded. She heard of them, but didn’t know these beings actually existed.

“Good,” said Amphitrite. “Then, as a siren, I think you know what your first task will be.”

The young siren smiled. She swam up towards the surface and broke the warm blue-green and inhaled. The air smelled salty and fresh like home, her new home. Surrounded by the safety of rocks and rolling water, the siren finally relaxed, then turned to the east. Far away on the horizon, a ship full of men sailed towards her.