My life has always been planned out for me from the moment I was born. My name, who I am to marry, how many children I am permitted to have. All of it.

The government controlled all of it.

My parents had agreed to it, so I did too. That way of life was all for me. It is our society, so everything else that opposed that society is muffed and cut off.

But now, I’m not sure what is right and what is wrong.

***

“Hilda?” My mother calls. “What’s taking you so long? Get out the carriage, dear, we are here.”

I stuff a few more pens along with my notebook into my satchel, covering it all with a large rag for secrecy from my parents and security from the sand.

Women aren’t allowed the use of creating literature; they say we aren’t created for the purpose of sitting and writing, let alone reading.

I hope out of the carriage in my white shin-short skirt and my thin, yellow blouse. I’m rather glad my mother isn’t too invested in the fashion, it would have been sweltering for me if she made me go full dress mode.

I see my mother, father, and my soon-to-be fiancé chatting up ahead as they walk to the line that separates the stone walkways from the warm sand. My fiancé is tall, too tall for my liking, and has a warm brown face with heart-melting amber eyes. I’m not saying I don’t find him attractive, I do, but he and I don’t really….

Click.

Many times people have said that marrying for love is a total disaster. My parents didn’t love each other when they were assigned, but now they do. But what about those who never end up loving each other? How do they fare in the end?

I sigh, then toss my satchel over my shoulder and run towards my company to go enjoy some sun soaking and the salt of the ocean.

After a while, I get bored. Mother is lying down, having stripped off her dress to her slip, and napping while tanning. Father and my fiancé, George, are chatting up about the next election for senate. Normally I would stick around to listen for a bit, but we came to the beach for a reason: to have fun.

That is why I stand up, satchel still with me, and walk towards the sea.

It gets more and more quiet the farther I go out. Just me, the salty air, the caw of seagulls, and the waves of the oceans crashing against each other. I wish this could be life. I wish this could be my life. Just endless silence of chatter and life with a pen and notebook.

With a sigh and a small smile, I place my satchel down, far enough from the waves so it won’t get wet, and pull my dress over my head.

“Wow,” I whisper, feeling the cool breeze on my bare shoulders and legs, “This is truly bliss.”

“Isn’t it?” A light voice says.

Startled, I turn towards it, arms up in a fighting position. When I see them though, my arms slowing go down as I gape in awe.

It’s a girl who seems to be my age. Her skin is a pale pink, with rosy lips and cheeks. She’s tall, not as tall as George, but tall enough for a woman. Her hair is the color of sea foam and cascades down her body in a shielding curtain, hiding her nudity.

I feel my face grow warm as she smiles at me. “W-who are you?” I croak, stepping back.

She strides towards me with her long legs, all with a sweet smile on her face and her green eyes on mine. “I am who I am, but you can call me Siren.” She stops before me and grabs my shoulders. Her hands are ice cold and rough. “Who are you?”

I try to speak but find my throat dry. I lick my dry, salting lips, which Siren watches closely, and say my name. Dear me, when did it get so hot?

“Hilda,” Siren draws, as though my name is a word from a foreign language. She lets me go and takes her hands together, palm to palm. Siren looks at me, noting my confused expression. “What?”

I point to her body, my knees weak from her beauty. “Where are your clothes?”

Siren stares at me for a moment, then tips her head towards the sky and howls in laughter. I cringe away, uncomfortable at her display.

She looks back at me after she finishes. Her brows crease, noting my discomfort. “No need to be afraid, Hilda,” she says, reaching out for my hand, “Come, may I take you away for the evening?”

And for some reason I pause to think. I should just say no and get out of here, back to the comfort zone of my book and structured life. Not hang out with some naked lady.

But, she does seem mysterious. And I am quite curious. Siren doesn’t look dangerous.

“Hilda?”

I tell her my answer.

***

I’ve been here for the longest. With my pen and notebook. Writing. Writing my story.

Siren visits me sometimes. She’s the one who made this cave for me. Because I am hers and she is mine.

Love is strange, isn’t it?

Siren knew I was to be hers for the rest of our lives, but I didn’t know it until a few months ago. Yes, I have been here for months.

I get to go out sometimes, when there are no other humans around, and walk around the beach at night. The air cold, the sky dark, waddling around, holding my swelling stomach.

Fate is something else. If I hadn’t went to the beach, I would have never met Siren and leave my old life. If I hadn’t went to the beach, I would have ended up marrying George and would have had his children. I would have been bored, never being allowed to write, only to live as being a housemaid and a stock for breeding.

Now I live in the sea, expecting. I live in the sea with the love of my life. My beautiful, sweet, dangerous siren.

So I suppose I am forever a sea-girl. Forever hers until the day I die.

***

_(Dear me, I didn’t expect it to be this long! Anyways, thanks for reading!)_

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