A song of sirens

<img src="https://images.nationalgeographic.org/image/upload/t_edhub_resource_key_image/v1638888225/EducationHub/photos/ship-sails.jpg" /> you are a siren. your song shrills across the waves of the deep blue sea. wet hair and moist scales wrap around your waist. ahead is a [[misty outline of a strange ship]]. below are your [[sisters]]. [[sing]]

the ship lies coated in a blanket of soupy fog, golden lights diffuse through the soup. it is [[far]]. back to [[a wet rock over the sea]].

there were many them, but fewer now. a dozen of your kind lay in wait. they have sharpened your teeth and theirs tenfold. they have armored themselves with the remains of the dead, they are hungry and have no more life to give. They must take to go on. [[sing]]

so far that you strain your quickly drying eyeballs try their best to see the [[men]] on board. you cannot see them but you smell them. they are there. [[sing]]

seamen, half drunk with scurvy and other diseases. not the best meal but it has been a long time since your sisters have fed. your belly growls with anticipation. they will be here soon, your sorority is inevitable. [[sing]]

the [[voice]], it will serve you well. you shrill, waves of it cut through the fog bringing the [[men]] closer. [[louder]]

not a wail, not a whisper, but a promise. men when you are botherd to leave a few alive long enough to speak have told you about the promise. It is of [[wealth]], my lady It is of [[hope]], my lady It is of [[lust]], my lady

the ship is here. your sisters dive up breaking the hull their teeth have been sharpened enough. as it sinks you watch as the waters turn crimson. the bubbles of the last breaths fizz on the surface. your sister paddles over to you, her shark's eyes full of [[life]].

it is the wealth of men that keep them coming back to the rock. it is of little use to you. It has kept the supply of them steady. it is the wealth of their flesh that you channel through the [[voice]]. perhaps today is the day that your wealth will grow. you get [[louder]]

it is the hope of the one you fed on. the memories of his family added a spice to his entrails. it is that hope that you channel through the [[voice]]. you long for the spice again, a spice to share with your sisters. you get [[louder]].

it is the lust of men that compels them to approach your wet and cold body. you were the youngest, your body offered a promise beyond compare from that of the land women. a promise quickly broken by the grinding of bones, the hot salt of blood and chewing. it is the lust of life the desire to extend your sisters continued existence in the land of men. that lust is what you channel through your [[voice]] you get [[louder]]

a fleshy leg, muscled with paths of sundamage on the skin. you bite and tear the seasalt has spiced it well. you taste their hope. it flows through you as you wonder when [[another]] will come.

your song has been sung. your run water across your rock cleaning the remains of your feast. your turn your back to sea. and lie down. and [[sleep]]

she places an [[offering]], a [[boon]], and a [[gift]]. all on your wet rock. before she leaves she tells you of the fallen. you do your best to listen. but you [[think]] instead

the torso of a fat man. its oily flesh rolls between your gums as you bite. you stop midway to pick the pearls out of your teeth. a rich man. you look at your sister with amusement. but an unspoken promise of dread flows between you. you both wonder if [[another]] will come.

half a face of young boy. the underside of his skin is soft like an oyster. you lap its juices. the muscles have relaxed on his face causing it to droop. his expression betrays you, stopping you from your feeding. he knows you are wondering when [[another]] will come.

your body turns to stone. hiding you keeping you safe. you wake years later. on [[a wet rock over the sea]].

one day she will not be the one that gives you the bounty of your song. but that day is not today. but perhaps the next time [[another]] sister will come.