The ocean rocks the hull of The Deimos, to, fro, in a lullaby that’d put a baby to sleep. She’s certainly a beautiful ship. Her masts and pale sails rise above the wooden deck, like they’re reaching for the stars and heavens above them. The figurehead at her bow juts out proudly in the form of woman, naked from her middle up and the body of a fish where legs should be.
Not far away from The Deimos, a creature watches the rocking ship with high reaching masts and beautiful mermaid decorating her bow. Perching on a jut of rocks that peek just so from the waters’ depths, sits something like the creature on the bow of that ship. A woman, naked from the waist up. Long tendrils of blonde hair flow down and cover her bared breasts. A thick, powerful tail curves out from her waist and the fin dips into the soft ocean waves, in, out, matching the rhythm of the waves.
She is beautiful, like the mermaid on the bow. In the dark cover of the night, her body curves from supple breasts to supple hips, her hair in waves the ocean would envy. Her skin, it’s smooth, unblemished from scars or sun. Droplets of water role down her pink flesh to a tail with scales that look like jewels, glimmering green and blue iridescently. Her beauty hides her danger – and the darkness hides her true nature – and she uses it to her advantage like the predator she is.
There’s a movement on the deck of The Deimos, and she smirks.
Her mouth is full of pointed teeth.
The siren watches the deck, pearlescent eyes keen on the man who moves about it. He’s tall, wrapped in hard bands of muscle. She’s had her eyes on him as she’s tracked The Deimos for weeks and knows he’s lonely and misses the woman he left back home. It’s a weight that hangs heavy on his heart every time she sings for him, calls to him, tempts him, meddles his mind so that strays to places of impurity. It’ll be just one more night before he jumps for her, and her long awaited meal will have been worth the wait.
She stretches, arms raised over her head. A line of moonlight peeks through the clouds, catching on her wrist. The light shows a sliver of green flesh, rotted, but in the next second the cloud covers the moon again, her skin is smooth and beautiful, and she settles back comfortably.
Her mouth opens, reveals those teeth, and the siren begins to sing.
Her melody is soft at first. Like a whisper, it creeps just along the water’s surface, sneaks along the starboard side of the ship. Up, up, it wonders, until it reaches the man. It’s a song for him, and no other; she sings and he listens.
He stills on the deck, and he looks around. Had someone joined him on deck? He always wonders that, when her melody starts. Her perceptive eyes can see it in his face, how his brows furrow, how he frowns in confusion, but she continues to sing, sing, sing, weaving a melody for him in soft tones, baiting him. His confusion is forgotten as he listens and she allows her song to work through his mind.
The man falls easily under the spell, the way one slips into sleep. He doesn’t realize it, but she does, and she sings higher, sweeter. Her mouth opens wide and her throat moves along with her melody. Her lips are taught as her song spills forth, the spell coiling around the man’s mind, ensnaring him with how beautiful it is.
Come to the water, it calls to him. Be with her.
He walks to the edge of the deck. His glazed eyes search. Where is the voice? Where does it come from?
Why does he want it?
The siren doesn’t let up on her song, and the man sits on the edge of the ship. His eyes search and scan, seeking her out. There’s desperation there, as if he’s afraid. What if the song stops? What then? It’s the reaction she’s been waiting for, that desperation. She’s got him.
She slips into the water seamlessly. Her body’s made for the ocean and she glides effortlessly beneath its surface. Back and forth her tail moves to push her forward. She continues to sing, her voice piercing through the water to the man on the deck. Her eyes never leave him as she gets closer and she breaks the water’s surface just feet away from the ship. She sings up to him, and he sways on the edge of the ships bow, dazed. He looks down and his eyes widen.
She sings louder.
Her voice carries up in deeper tones, and the man leans over. The only thing that holds him to the ship are his hands as they grip the wood. White-knuckled, he holds on, but he’s enthralled. Hooked. The song has him entranced and she swims below him in the water in hypnotizing circles that he follows with motions of his head, around, around, around. She lets her tail surface within the motions, catching his eye.
“Beautiful.” The word is mouthed, he doesn’t make a sound. She smirks, just the barest hint of those ferocious teeth glinting before she rises out of the water, her nakedness exposed without shame. Her brow quirks and she beckons to him with a finger, urging him down.
Come, come. Her song still fills the air and the man’s mind, and his head tilts in a sloppy nod. He leans forward, eyes on her and they never leave. His fingers slip, one after the other they loosen.
The man canters forward just as the moon comes from behind the clouds again. Its full light shines down, bright illuminates the ship and the water below. The man sees too late, his grip gone from the ship, as the light of the moon bares down on the siren. The man’s eyes widen as her song stops, and he sees her for what she is.
Pink skin is green and molted, clings to a figure that’s emaciated. Her hair falls in stringy clumps around a sunken face, and her eyes leer menacing and clouded with cataracts. Any beauty she possessed is gone, replaced with a rotted figure with sharp, blackened nails.
The man hits the water with a smack. He flails beneath the surface as he tries to get away and when he breaks the surface, he gives a waterlogged cry. The song is gone, it no longer entices him, but the siren isn’t interested in enticing. Her song did its job.
Now, it’s time to feed.
She’s swift in getting to him. The fragility of her rotted body is only in looks; she’s at him in an instant with the push of her tail. Up close he smells delicious, all tender flesh and pumping blood. She inhales, grins, and the man screams again. He claws at the side of the ship, as if he thinks he’ll manage to climb all the way up. Her claws sink in when she grabs him, and his piercing cry rouses his crew members from their sleep.
The struggle is futile as the man claws at her desperately; his screams are drowned in a flood of sea.