A Silent Song

Once upon a time, there was a little mermaid who was as beautiful as she was deadly. She had unnaturally long fingers and elongated fangs, her hair was as soft as seaweed and she grew scales on her skin.

Today was feasting day and the little mermaid and her serpent sisters swam towards the shore to devour the warm blood of mankind. 

They swam to where the water heated from the sun, and the sound of children’s laughter gurgled from the shore. 

The sisters split and began to sing their siren song. 

One opened her jaw and swallowed up a nearby ship.

Another feasted on a family of albatrosses, their cries panicked and echoing across the sky in warning until their voices suddenly snapped off. The others continued on their way to where the sea met the sand. 

One went after a fisherman, fishing on the rocks. She pulled her delicate face from beneath the water, her wet hair dancing hypnotically around her, then she began to sing. Enthralled by her beauty, he lowered his line and crawled between the rocks. His feet splashed into the shallows and the siren sang louder. He waded into the water until he was mere inches from her skin and scales. And then she pulled him under. 

Another found a man whizzing past on a jet ski, swimming by it and shaking it sideways, panicking the rider. Eventually, she toppled it over right into her mouth. 

The others sang and lured children into their depths. Mesmerised by a mermaid, they didn’t know any better.

The youngest and most beautiful sister found a boy playing with a ball, deeper in the water than he probably should have been. He threw it high into the air and watched it splash onto the waves, feeling the vibrations through the water bounce along his skin. Again, he threw it into the air, but once it splashed down, the youngest siren called the water towards her and the ball came floating too. 

Deeper, she encouraged him to swim. And he did. Again, he threw the ball and she called the water to her, the ball along with it. But this time, the boy didn’t blindly follow. He paused, watching beneath the water where she swam, frowning slightly. 

He turned, leaving the ball and swam to the shore. The youngest sister rose from the water and began to sing in the loveliest voice of the sea. Her voice hummed around her, encircling him in a snare. But the boy did not follow. He did not even look back. 

Frustrated and hungry, she sent the ball bouncing along the water surface back to him until it hit him with a gentle thud. Only then did he stop swimming and glance over his shoulder at her.

Dripping with saltwater, only her shoulders above the water, her tail beating gently below. Instead of being mesmerised and succumbing to her siren charm like all the others, he raised his hand and beckoned her closer to him. Then he turned and continued to swim. 

The sirens had never been denied a meal before. So she swam after him and thought of how ridiculous it was for a siren to hunt for food when they should have been entrapped, lured, and seduced with her song. Still, she followed him until the water was so shallow her tail hit the sand. 

The boy stopped now, water at his waist, his hands freely able to move without paddling to keep him floating upright. The youngest mermaid stayed as deep as she could, barely moving her tail so that no one would see the predator among the prey. 

The boy’s blond hair stuck to his forehead and he smiled so radiantly he could compete with the sun. He pointed a finger directly at the youngest siren, touching her chest ever so slightly, an action no human would have dared before, then waved his fingers over his face. 

You’re beautiful, he signed in sign language. 

Unable to communicate while swimming and unable to hear her song — he was deaf and untouchable by her charm. Her electric green eyes widened in realisation, which only made his shining smile grow. 

He beckoned her to shore and walked until the water slid past his knees and then past his ankles. 

Mesmerised by his silent smile and a little curious too, the youngest siren followed. Her tail split in two, her scales receded, and as she took her first step on toes, she forgot about her hunger for a moment.

The siren was lured onto the shore by a boy who was not lured into the sea.