Out on the seas there are many superstitions. Not all of them are sensible and certainly some border on ludicrousness, but if you want to return home in one piece then you’d be best to heed them.

The siren’s call is a tale told by all sailors, but few have heard her songs. Few have heard the sweet tonations of what her voice is capable of. The vibrations of her vocals that resonate deep in your soul. Those uninitiated are not aware that the instant her voice penetrates your ears, it’s like a viscous chorus that you can’t get out of your head.

I fell prey to her when I set sail on my weathered rowboat. Taken to the water since I was a child, I found the most solace on the rocking of the waves. The obstacles of life could not suffocate my existence when the ocean was my haven. My impenetrable barrier.

I set upon those waters that morning knowing that as long as I was out there, where time had the ability to stand still, I would not have to come to terms with my brother’s death. I rowed out miles from the shore until I could feel the muscles threatening to burst in my arms. I set the oars down and looked to the horizon. The troubles of the world were not present on this still morning.

The boat swayed gently, lulling me into a hypnotic state. Back and forth, I layed down and looked towards the sky. The sun had not yet risen and the clouds were still heavy with the previous night’s rain. They moved slowly at first, small gaps forming between them. A lingering star appearing in the distance not yet extinguished by the sun’s light. The boat continued to rock, the occasional large wave lifted the vessel higher.

I closed my eyes and there she was. It was a quiet sound at first, so much so I thought it might have been a bird in the distance readying to dive for its breakfast. But the sound wasn’t curt like the bird’s caw. It was melodic in nature and now its volume grew steadily. My eyes stayed closed as it halted my body. My breath seemed too loud, so I held it for a moment. There it was again, sweetly melding with the air. It played in my ears but I could also feel it. I could feel it on my skin, down through my bones, on the inside of my eyelids. It was like an angel’s laugh, or a harp’s most elegant chord. I let my breath out slowly as I opened my eyes. The clouds were darker now; thick and swirling. The air grew heavy with moisture and static of an oncoming storm. But I did not fret about my return because that heavenly sound deafened the world around me. I could hear a distinct voice now, bending through the increased winds, swirling around my boat like a cocoon. As it wrapped its silken strings tighter, the song seeped through my ears into my mind and struck my soul.

My breath escaped me quickly and I found myself gasping for air, not to remedy my lungs, but to try to absorb the scent of the voice, the essence of its being. My head grew light, but the infatuation quelled my every nerve. I took a moment to look around, desperate to find the source. The seas whipped angrily around me and lightning cracked on the not so distant land. The cliff’s edge had come closer now, but I had not noticed my pull towards it. The crag was harsh and had capsized boats twice the size of the one I was in. However, something about its rock face gave life to that voice. I squinted harder, the air from my lungs now exhaling in raucous breaths. If I could just become one with those celestial chords; life would hold no meaning if I could not just reach out and touch that one perfect note.

I cannot recall the impact my boat made, or the crack of my skull against the jutting rocks. Light flickered across my vision in striking succession, reminiscent of the lightning continuing to plague the lands. There was but a solitary moment where I could hear a cherubic laugh deep inside of myself. This woke me from my spell and my hand instinctively grasped the cliff side with the strength of a survivor. Head still spinning and the only sounds now penetrating my surroundings were of the harsh sea waters abusing my body and the thunderous claps mocking my peril. I began to climb with desperation. The safety of the top stretched out infinitely before me, but my heart pounded in my ears like a metronome. Each heart beat was another lurch upwards. Then another. And another.

My hands grasped the edge and felt the harsh earth tease the tips of my fingers. I tightened my grip and heaved one final time pulling myself up onto the ground. I chanced a glance over the edge. My rowboat was reduced to nothing but splinters now, having been whipped against the rocks and yanked back out to sea. The horizon showed no sign of a morning as the darkness engulfed every edge. However, the waters had come to settle. The sea wiped clean of its tumultuous weather.

I sat in disbelief, unable to grasp what had just occurred. One thought echoed hollowly in my mind; the siren had let me live, but she would call out to me again.