—O C E A N S P R A Y—

    Delphine poised on a cliffside boulder, jutting out on the shore, She sat beside two other sirens. One was her sister, Jessamine, blonde waved and streamlined. The other was her best friend, Aquamarine—a raven brunette—always thirsty for human flesh.

They belched their melodious vocals, waiting for a sailor passerby.

Delphine broke the wicked white noise. "There aren't any men here. We might as well go."

"Oh quit whining, Delphie. They're here. They're just a little intimidated to come out. That's all." Aqua tousled her shiny locks over her shoulder.

Jessamine slouched against the rock in disbelief. "I've been thinking about what Naomi said the other day, and I hate to say it, but I'm beginning to believe her..."

Aquamarine gaped. "No, not you too! Everyone believes her. But she has no proof of her theory of being real."

"Think about it, Aqua. Her theory makes sense. The reason why the sailors don't come out anymore is because somebody from our kind captured the prince on the mainland and won't give him back. The king forbids any new naval expeditions now, leaving us to starve and suffer the consequences," Jessamine said. "He's been planing a way to get rid of us from the moment we interfered with their civilization. I hope whoever has the prince imprisoned gets what she deserves. Before you know it, we'll all be extinct!"

Aqua slapped Jessamine on the cheek hard. "Don't ever say that again."

—T E A L-T O N E D—

"Charlisa!" A voice echoes.

           Charlisa nearly dropped her paintbrush on the grass after being startled by her servant. Just when she thought she has claimed an ounce of tranquility, it vanished before her sight. Charlisa's chances of not getting disturbed seemed vaguely slim now. Because of her high status, servants pestered her constantly to make sure she wasn't deprived of anything. Their bothersome behavior topped the list of her numerous fetishes. Yet, she still desired for pure peace, even though she knew it was far from reach. 

Charlisa rolled her eyes. "What is it?" 

Her servant walked over, carrying a food platter in her hands. 

          "I've been calling you the past ten minutes for lunch! Haven't you heard me? You must eat, Lady Charlisa. It isn't proper for you to abstain from eating. You know how your father feels about that."

       "Of course, I know, Susan." Charlisa took a porcelain teacup, filling it to the brim with herbal tea.

          Susan tried to peak behind Charlisa's canvas out of curiosity and annoyance. Charlisa faced the canvas away in the opposite direction when she noticed Susan's true intentions.

"What are you painting?" She asked.

"Nothing," Charlisa said. "Why, why do you ask?"

"C'mon Charlisa! Let your servant have a look! I can give you good critique if you want."

           Charlisa knew Susan was the nosey-type. She didn't care about other people's feelings. Charlisa feared the reaction she'd get when Susan saw what she was painting. No, rather who she was in the middle of painting.

Charlisa placed a cloth over her canvas. "What if I don't want critique?"

"Just let me see it, Charlisa!"

"No—"

"Why not?"

"Because it's not meant for you to see," Charlisa choked on her breath. It's not meant for anyone, but me to see...

  Susan pushed past Charlisa; removed the cloth, unveiling her secret masterpiece. Charlisa stood back—afraid. Wide-eyed and gossip hungry, Susan gasped like she had inhaled horrible dose of helium. However, Charlisa's painting also made her smile—a gruesome smile, One that could chill a spinal cord and feed on horror itself.

—S O S—

  He leaned over a boat, captivated by her beautiful presence. In his ear, she sang a bittersweet lullaby:

Upon one summer's morning, I carelessly did stray,

Down by the Walls of Wapping, where I met a sailor gay,

Conversing with a bouncing lass, 

who seem'd to be in pain,

Saying, William, when you go, 

I fear you will ne'er return again.

His hair it does in ringlets hang, 

his eyes as black as sloes,

May happiness attend him wherever he goes,

From Tower Hill, down to Blackwall, 

I will wander, weep and moan,

All for my jolly sailor bold, until he does return.

My father is a merchant—the truth I now will tell,

And in great London City in opulence doth dwell,

His fortune doth exceed ₤300,000 in gold,

And he frowns upon his daughter,

'cause she loves a sailor bold.

A fig for his riches, his merchandize, and gold,

True love is grafted in my heart; give me my sailor bold:

Should he return in poverty, from o'er the ocean far,

To my tender bosom, I'll fondly press my jolly tar.

My sailor is as smiling as the pleasant month of May,

And oft we have wandered through Ratcliffe Highway,

Where many a pretty blooming girl we happy did behold,

Reclining on the bosom of her jolly sailor bold.

Come all you pretty fair maids, whoever you may be

Who love a jolly sailor bold that ploughs the raging sea,

While up aloft, in storm or gale,

from me his absence mourn,

And firmly pray, arrive the day, he home will safe return.

My name it is Delphine, a merchant's daughter fair,

And I have left my parents 

and three thousand pounds a year,

My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold,

There is nothing can console me but my jolly sailor bold.

    The young lad swallowed his pride. Every last bit. Entranced with the magic of her mystical beauty, his soul succumbed to the sea's embrace. Delphine grabbed him by the coat collar, dragging him underneath, He fell; a lifeless being.

            She assumed nobody would try to find him. Nobody ever came to retrieve the men who lay at the hands of the ocean's grasp. 

But boy was she wrong.

—S H I F T—

      She tempted him toward the shadows; lured him into the unknown. Death reeked all around them. It seeped between the crevices of the mainland and the sea. But he couldn't see it. No matter how hard she tried to show him. He was a blind fool—thoughtlessly human.

      Maybe it was for his own good. For if he saw everything she witnessed during the waves of her lifetime, inside a lightning flash, he would become certified in madness indefinitely.