This is it, my end.
I choke, my air supply fully depleting as the outline of the ship overhead fades from view, and my final thought before I succumb to the closing tunnel of darkness clouding my vision is that I’ll never know if my brother truly survived or not.
2
Evelyn
The waves crash in the distance as boisterous laughter and chatter fill the Elder’s hut. The abundance of plush blankets, intricately crafted seashell chairs, and walls lined with woven straw have transformed this large hut into a cozy haven for us to spend our days. In this space, we lounge in comfort when not busy entertaining the men who have wound up on our island of Kafigda.
A soft ocean breeze rustles the straw, whispering its way around my siren sisters as the sun shines happily through the large open doors, creating a serene atmosphere of relaxation and warmth.
Many of my sisters will be preparing for the ceremony tonight, and their male conquests, but it's been many moons since I’ve taken a lover. My interests have drifted to the lush forests and wildlife that cover our rocky shores.
Spending a hundred and twenty-seven years on the island of Kafigda has given me plenty of time to become familiar with our lavish home. I hadn't paid much mind to our surroundings, but in recent years, I've become obsessed with learning more about the island's vegetation and new ways to use it for medicinal purposes.
So, instead of spending my days lying in bed with all the other sirens and men, I've been exploring the dense jungles and discovering new plant species.
My half-sister Katarina would rather I take her advice and spend more time free of my clothes and indulging in what the village has to offer, but I’ll never be what my sister wants me to be.
I’ve grown tired of bedding men just for a mere moment of pleasure, I long to feel something real, and have someone all my own to spend my days exploring with.
I take a moment to soak in the peace of the early morning and look around the room at all of the sirens enjoying this time of peaceful tranquility in the Elder’s hut. A small fire burning in the center of the room makes it even more welcoming. We all like to spend our mornings wrapped in warm blankets and lying on the cushions that line the floor before our evening events. I try to imagine myself as one of them, content with spending each day tangled in the sheets with a sailor who’s never interested in more than a tryst.
But I can’t, I can’t imagine myself wanting anything less than a true connection. I ache for genuine conversation and someone who’s passionate about the same things I am.
I yawn, standing and walking to the open doorway to watch the sprawling sea beyond the beach.
While Kafigda may be home to the sirens, we are much different from what the stories say. For one, we can walk on land. As soon as our legs touch the waves, we transform, but on dry land, we have two legs like anyone else. Secondly, our song doesn't lure men to their deaths. Some of us can use our voice to heal, change the tides and weather patterns, or even manipulate the mind.
Though we spend most days surrendering to the passionate energy and wild abandon of our island's vibrant culture, we have also created a flourishing cooperative community here.
Everyone pitches in, using their talents and strengths to transform this place into a vision of paradise. Working together, we have constructed new homes for those who fall victim to the storms surrounding us and find themselves stranded on our beaches, ensuring they are comfortable in their new home. Our communal spirit extends to cooking, where we make meals and host gatherings beneath the starlit sky for the whole island, often leading to freed inhibitions of lust and unity.
Each day seems to blend into the next, and I often feel like there is no end in sight to the routine of it all. Kafigda is a beautiful place to call home, even if I feel like a prisoner stuck in a paradise.
“A ship has been spotted at the border!” One of my siren sisters walks past me into the hut, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Another one so soon?” Katarina squeals gleefully beside me. I follow her as she runs from the Elder's hut to the beach, where a large ship can be seen on the horizon. Like a fish in a net, it's caught within the feverish storms surrounding our cursed rock.
“What did we do to deserve such a treat?” Katarina’s strawberry blonde hair flows in luscious waves down her back. Iwatch her pink and blue scales sparkle in the light as she clasps her hands together, bouncing excitedly on her webbed feet.
She loves it when the storms bring new sailors to the island. I, on the other hand, could never see another ship again and know peace.
The storms that rage in the ocean near our island are not natural. They're a curse, and the reason legends claim us to be monsters. It's not us luring sailors to our shores—it's the island and its storms.
It’s always been this way, for as long as we can remember. Kafigda is beautiful, everything we could ever want grows here, and we are thriving. There’s just one problem—we can never leave this blighted place.
From the outside, it appears to be a storm that even the most seasoned sailors dare not cross, but past the dark clouds and rain is our paradise, which is nothing more than a gilded cage.
Our island is full of secrets, things that the sirens haven’t yet uncovered, or if my suspicions are correct, don’t want to expose.
Like my sister, most of them were happy to spend their days beneath the sun's warm rays, swimming in the deep cerulean waters, and enjoying the company of the sailors trapped on our shores. But I’m not content to waste my life in this place. Maybe it’s because I was raised by an Elder who told me stories of her youth where sirens were worshiped by sailors and merchants alike.
My childhood was filled with tales of travelers who came and left as they pleased, who were able to experience a world past the small island of Kafigda. Tales of the Elders using their powers to predict storms that could save lives and steer fish into the waiting nets of hungry fishermen.
I longed to know a time before the storms, before we were cut off from the world and legend transformed us into monsters who lure men to their deaths.
The Elders who washed up on the shores of Kafigda all those centuries ago tell us how the mainlanders loved us and how the island became a destination for weary travelers seeking rest after a long fishing season.