Sinister Siren

The outside world thinks of me so evil, unusually cruel for what I do to the men who trespass my precious waters. At their final breath, I hear the whispers of men crying for a different fate, but they yearned for me so?

For centuries my sisters and I have sung the songs of our people, creatures of the sea. Pure prose and poetry, not merely because of a talent inherited from the heavens. We sing our story to the many travelers who voyage from waters near and far. The men may take on different shapes and sizes, accents, or eye color—oh yes, I peer into those eyes—and yet men never fail to align in their greed and lust for the treasures of this world. Consequently, my sisters and I provide the sacred treasure their souls pursue. We bless them with our gift of song. We cannot be blamed for music too refined for the mortal man. Our ethereal vocals lure one to death purely because there is nothing left to live for that could emanate the likeness of our divine voice.

If the outside world saw the empty, lonely hearts of the men who pass, they would not blame us for bestowing our love unto them. It is out of the kindness of our hearts that we fill their poor souls with love before they meet a fate written in their destiny. It is by no coincidence that these men traverse our waters; they pursue us. Oh, the feeble man.

Am I not deserving of love? I am a woman of the sea, bound to its laws of beauty and chaos. I must fulfill the ocean's desires to pull men out of their misery. Let them lust, and love to my song, to my voice, and let them, at last, understand the ocean they have attempted so dearly to tame. This is my duty to my home—my sea, and my sisters. Then again, I do crave the worship of my men. To see their eyes, ponder the insanity of my existence, to hear their mind, derange upon hearing my voice for the first time. Oh, there's nothing quite like it. It ravishes me to my core to see the craze in their gaze, to hear the pulsing of their veins, and the pumping of a heart full of desire. It is me they want, but it is the ocean who will claim them.

I gather the souls of lost men and relish in their love for me. It is not so cruel as humans claim—it is fated by the sea, destined the moment they set sail. My men only belong to me for the lifetime of our songs, so in pursuit of the love I know I deserve, I will sing for eternity.

Do you understand me now?

Or do you wish to hear me sing?

Strike Out,

Writer and Editor: Karina McCarthy

Concept: Sarah Anthony, Adrian Junco, Lily Fox

Photographer: Lily Fox

Model: Aleisha Mowatt

Beauty: Emmali O’Neil

Digital Onsite: Lily Fox

Tallahassee