The Ocean’s Siren

“Aria.” Her call was mythical, poisonous, tranquil, and inescapable. When she calls me, she controls me, because she owns me. She took my voice. “Aria,” she calls again. My only choice is to obey. She is a vibrant blue color today; endless vast waters in all directions – She is the Ocean.

My pace is slow but steady towards Her. My brown hair looks a shade lighter in the harsh sunlight. My shark white gown hugs my chest and hips, one thick strap covers the space between my left shoulder and neck. The gown flows from my lower waist to the ground. Specks of sand are touching the bottom of my dress turning it tan. My full length gown blows gracefully in the wind – marvelous. The oyster shell I am carrying is nearly empty; turquois rounds the perimeter inside, specks of pink and lines of lavender shine, while oyster silver fills the remaining space – the outside of the oyster is rough which protects the beauty within. I inspect each small seashell I remove from the oyster as they plunge into the beach sand excited to be caressed by home instead of on display as décor.

When I am almost to the Ocean I leave footprints in the sand, marking my path before waves alter the sand. I look back at my seashells on the shore like when a lover says a final goodbye. I love land because She only controls water. The sun makes my eyes water briefly but I can still see my abstract design, within the shells I see love in the shape of a heart. Then She takes me.

A few feet into the Ocean white water begins to dance around me. I can taste the salt. My eyes are open but they don’t sting. She wraps the water around my body then after one corset tight squeeze She releases me. My white dress has been replaced with an ivory mermaid bra made of several seashells and an aqua sequence fish tale. It won’t be long now. I have been transformed into a sea creature. She gave me skin the color of a tan seahorse, jellyfish pink lips, cheeks the color of the pinkest starfish, and a tale similar to a dolphins. She moves me several leagues under the sea toward Her next victims.

I know when my victims – Her victims – see me they will stare into my brown-green eyes. The green in them will symbolize money, power, or earth depending on the person peering into them. The brown in my eyes is the color of sand when the sunsets and the world becomes darker. When my victims look at me they will hear my song – Her song – and then the water will have what She needs, their life will sustain Her for a few months or years depending on how many more are accidently lost in the Ocean.

“We’re here,” She says. “SING.” I follow Her orders because I am the Ocean’s Siren.