Siren’s Song

Siren's Song

Max’s stare was blank but his body was filled with longing.  Her song was the epitome of desire.  In all of his 50 years, Max had never heard anything to compare.

The first time it had happened, Max had been suffering from insomnia.  Sleep, always his distant friend, remained aloof long into the witching hours, and so, out of utter boredom, he had done the unthinkable…. he had walked barefoot to an empty dock, boarded his Irish Lady and taken her out into the calm sea waters.  Max knew sailing alone, especially in the dead of night, wasn’t the smartest thing to do; however a stifling loneliness prodded him to  curse all warnings and tuck them away into the deepest recess of his mind.

At first, all was quiet, save for  the wind’s gentle tug on the mainsail and the small waves kissing the sides of the Irish Lady.  With the waters so calm, Max relaxed by the rudder and enjoyed his cigar without interruption.  Nearing the end of the smoke another sound began to mingle among the wind and waves.  The mé·nage à trois slowly married and became  a sweet seductress caressing and whispering within his ear.

At first, Max wondered if another boat was near, but a quick 360 proved that he and his Irish Lady were the only ones upon the water.  As the song grew louder, he relaxed and was eventually enveloped within the soprano’s beautiful serenade.  The woman’s voice was soft and gentle and even though Max knew it to be strange he felt no fear, only a peaceful sense of longing.

“Strange…” he whispered, “so…so strange.”

The Siren’s song warmed him and put him in a blank trance  until it slowly left as it had come, leaving only the sounds of the wind and waves.  Max had stayed out another hour hoping to hear her voice again but it never came.  Disappointed he turned his Irish Lady and went home.  The moonlight sail proved cathartic, for he had slept like a baby once he was home and under the covers of his bed.

Max went out every night for the rest of the week and sure enough he was rewarded with his sweet siren’s song.  Never, not even once, had he any inkling  to jump overboard into the arms of some beautiful bare breasted mermaid.  Just the opposite, he laughed, her voice had made him feel warm and completely safe.

Fearing he was losing his mind, Max had promised that each night would be the last, only to break the promise the following night.  And so, here he was, once again, sailing under the milky way awaiting the siren’s song.  With each night his desire to hear her grew until tonight it was a consuming fire begging to be quenched.  Minutes faded into hours with no sign of his siren.   Max, unwilling to give up, continued to sail the dark waters like a mad animal ravenous for his prey.  Finally it became obvious that his siren was not coming.     Utter loneliness squeezed his heart so hard it physically hurt, but he had  no other choice but to turn the Irish Lady and head back home.

Max went straight to bed but once again sleep was a stranger. He lay awake in his bed watching the breeze flutter the curtains of the open bedroom window.  He was filled with the fear that he’d never hear his siren again.

“Why hadn’t she come?” he whispered into the nothingness.

Faintly…ever so faintly a voice…her voice… like a whisper drifted through the open window.   His heart quickened, and  quickened all the more, when he realized her song was gradually getting louder. Finally she sang to him right outside his window and just as it had been upon the water her voice soothed him.

Entranced he lay there listening until her song came to an end..  At first he was afraid she had gone but then he heard her breathing and he knew she was still there.  He thought it impossible but her breath outside his window was sweeter than her song.  Gradually her whispers of breath became heavier and huskier until his siren sounded like a woman consumed with orgasmic pleasure.  Max filled with need and he wanted her to come inside and slip beneath the covers with him.  Somehow he knew she couldn’t come inside until he offered an invitation.

He was about to beckon, only to be interrupted by her moaning…

“…Max…I came for you, I came for you upon the waters, but I couldn’t find you.  My heart hurt… my soul cried, and my body ached for you… and so, I have come to you, Max…please…please bid me come in…”

Max, throbbing with the pain of desire, could wait no longer, said, “Come to me.”

The screen that separated her from his room began to tear slowly from top to bottom.   Max looked for her presence, but could see no one, only the slow rending of the screen. Once it  reached its decent a head flowing with long black hair slowly emerged.   Max strained to see her face, however, it was downcast so that her hair fell forward and long. The figure climbed through the window and then stood naked within the moon’s glow. Her long hair fell strategically to cover her breasts and cascaded over her body to hide everything but the perfect rounding of her hips and the length of her legs.  Standing like this she didn’t move and  Max wondered if he should go to her; however, as if she heard his thought, she began to slowly move toward him.  Once at the foot of the bed she stopped to stand silently, her hair, still covering her face, had parted just enough to expose the nipple and swell  of her left breast.  Feeling as if he could wait no longer, Max begged her to come to him.  Once the plea left his mouth she disappeared.  He presumed she had vanished until he felt the rustle of the sheets around his feet, and he knew she was about crawl underneath the covers. Slowly he felt her womanly body inch its way over his until she lay full upon him.  Her body was warm and soft and she eased her softness over his hardness until he was totally consumed within her flesh.    She began to slowly move upon him.and he thought he would die.  Consumed in desire he arched upward and ran his hands over her buttocks, up the small of her back, and ever upward until they held each side of her head. .  His fingers entangled within her hair and slowly he was able to push it up and over her face, and in that instant his siren let out a blood curdling scream.  Max opened his tightly closed eyes and saw a hideous hag writhing in pleasure above him.  Her mouth, unhinged hung long and low, and rocked side to side like a metronome.  Horrified he watched as her jaw stretched even longer so that he looked down the black bottomless pit of her throat.  Feeling the pull this dark abyss, Max  looked to his siren’s eyes to beg for mercy, but her bulbous eyes were even blacker than the pit and he knew they contained no mercy.  Unimaginable pain wracked his body as he felt himself shrivel to a liquid that poured down her throat.  The hag hungrily drank every portion of him until all that was left was damp spot upon sheets.

Slowly the hag’s sagging mouth closed and turned into lips the color of rose buds; and her black eyes grayed and morphed  until they were the color of the Mediterranean Sea.  A beautiful naked women left Max’s bed, drifted through the torn screen and disappeared into the sea mist  that lay beyond.

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Having a Creepy Kind of Day

Why so serious?

(You know it can’t be healthy)

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Borrowed from Spooky Southeast

“British X-files” soon to be released for public view!  Article later today!

Visit my other Blog Redhead Reflections

(Spooky Southeast podcast-well worth the listen!)

Survive the House of Poe?

poe_dinner

I should take up the pen to write it away,

Apathy wins…so there the pen lay.

Rid my soul…this melancholy pest?

Is there a way?  Or do none exist?

She grabs your throat through thinnest of cloth.

Uninvited she crawls… right into your mouth.

She reeks of bitter there is no doubt,

But swallow you must, there’s no way out.

Damn this melancholy…a gift from Poe?

Taking me down to the pits below.

Into the tunnel I feel my way.

No light to see, no presence of day.

I’ve been here before…a time or two.

Now, that’s a lie…Tis more than a few!

There is a place…Oh can it help?

But the grass is high…have the cards been dealt?

Anyone home?  Please…can you be there?

Please open the door… show me you care.

I call and call but no sound from you.

A step I hear and your laughter too.

This slap in the face I take on the chin.

So many times…and yet, now, again?

Over and over a deaf ear you turn,

So I’m nobody…no one of  discern?

I take my leave to walk in time,

Faces I see…Do they see mine?

No, faceless am I …no story to tell,

So back go I…where the melancholy dwell.

In a moment…brief though it may be,

I think I hear you, coming for me.

But then the silence around me drape,

A cloak of death…Should I partake?

This hole of despair I know I should climb.

Before it’s too late and I run out of time.

And so here I lay…my own little world.

This house of Poe…within I am curled.

Should I try…just one more knock?

Could it be true…Will the door unlock?

A face to gain and in dignity dwell?

No… is resounded from the pits of hell!

Into my cave with blackest of hue

Survival’s a myth…and I just don’t want to.

Morris in Thought

 

Please visit my other blog Redhead Reflections

Zombie Island

savage glowThe thing hid in the shadows, and watched as fresh meat disembarked the yacht.  It had been weeks since the last shipment, so the creature could barely contain the blood lust raging within its decomposing body.

The thing growled and pulled against the chains holding him in place.  Its brain could no longer reason.  It only understood his ravenous need for human flesh.  The drive was constant, even after it had feasted, it still hungered. It was never fully satisfied.

It lunged its body again and reached a skeletal hand toward leaves, wafting in the warm tropical breeze.  Only a lone finger-bone  escaped the cover of foliage.

If the “fresh meat” had looked in the direction, at that precise moment, they would have seen the bony finger with its sagging, putrid skin. Perhaps it would have been their salvation, or perhaps not… as the trees were quite some distance from the yacht.

Four teenagers laughed as they balanced the plank resting upon a weathered pier.  It wasn’t as stable as Kimmie would have liked, so she held tightly to Ted’s hand.  Ted, sensing her fright, gallantly turned his body to welcome his girlfriend safely into his arms. Kimmie, much smaller than Ted’s athletic frame, felt engulfed within his embrace and she liked the feeling.

Carol, quite the opposite of Kimmie, jumped from the rickety plank and practically landed on Kimmie and Ted.  All three fell together to land in a heap upon the graying boards.  The wood was old and so the pier quaked beneath their sudden movement.

A raucous laughter emanated from the heap, while Mark stood alone on the plank, holding all four backpacks.   Mark, feeling excluded, couldn’t help but wish, Carol, to be more like Kimmie.  What he would give to have her fall into his arms…

Like that would ever happen… thought Mark angrily.

Carol, boisterously called to him, “Hey pretty boy…get down here, already!”

 

Mark, shrugged off his anger, slowly smiled, and headed toward the laughing heap.

Offering, his hand to Carol, he winked and said, “Yes, I “am” a pretty boy…and don’t you forget it!”

Carol, ignored his hand, jumped up on her own accord and replied,”Hey, I’m not arguing the point. Practically every gooey-eyed cheerleader wants you, and from what I’ve heard through the grape vine, even a couple of the football jocks do as well.”

Ted helped Kimmie to her feet and added to the conversation,  “As quarterback of the football team, I can vouch for that!” And then laughed hysterically

Kimmie nudged Ted in the ribs and whispered, “Hey, that’s not nice!”

“Aw come on, sweetheart…we’re just messing with his head.  Ain’t that right Carol?”

Carol, nonchalantly studied the apple she had just pulled from her pack, took a bite and said with her mouth full, “Nope…meant every word.”

Ted laughed so hard he snorted.  Once again Kimmie nudged him but she couldn’t keep herself from smiling.  A red-faced Mark, saw her smile and turned a deeper shade of red. Unable to the think of anything clever, Mark said, “Very funny…HA..HA…”  He turned and walked toward the island.

The four teenagers unloaded their packs and when they had finished, beach towels, sunscreen, chips and beer littered the white sandy beach.   They settled upon their perspective towels and began to chatter among themselves.

***

The captain of the Sally Anne watched the teenagers find their places in the sand.  With a shaky hand he reached for the shift-throttle and began backing his boat.

The deal had always been to wait at least an hour before leaving.  Nervously, he glanced at his watch.  It had only been thirty-five minutes but the captain decided he would wait no longer.

“What the hell, can he do…he’s already paid me for the year…” he muttered under bearded lips.  The sooner he could leave the island the better he would feel, and this had always been the case since day one.  He thought back to that day and remembered the creepy little doctor who had handed him the money.  As he tucked the cash into his jean’s pocket, he heard a faint noise that sounded like guttural grunts and growls.   Startled, the captain looked at the doctor who was grinning back.

“The children are hungry, ” he had said.

After that, the captain had gotten the hell outta there.

Seeing the disappearing island in his rear view mirror, the captain ran a clammy hand through  wind tossed hair and mumbled nervously  “Damn crazy son-of-a-bitch…”

***

Dr Stevens pushed wire-rim glasses up a sweaty nose.  Peering through the leaves he counted a total of four.  Judging from their proximity, he concluded the exact location the four would try to enter the thicket.  He’d been doing this for a long time, so he was rarely wrong with his hypothesis.  The undergrowth at this particular part of the island was thick with Deer Grass and Banat Trees, making it hard to penetrate.  And so he had found breaking a limb or two here and patting down the grass there, lured the prey into his direction, quite well.

Wanting a clearer look, Dr Stevens slid the wire rimmed glasses atop his head, removed a pair of binoculars from a vest pocket and positioned them snugly against soul-less eyes. He saw a rather athletic looking male carrying a screaming female towards the water’s edge.  The bikini clad female had her arms around the males neck with her face pressed into his shoulders, causing her blonde hair to cascade down his back.  The female kept screaming but the big guy laughed and kept jogging until they both splashed into surf, and disappeared under the wave making its way to the beach.

Dr. Stevens moved his binoculars slightly to the right in order to see the other two. The scene he surveyed was much somber.  There was a male, not as large as the other, but a nice build, sitting on his ass, knees bent, toes in the sand.  Sucking on a beer, the guy looked as if he were sulking.  The other female was stretched out, her belly against a beach towel and her nose tucked into the open pages of a book.  She was also wearing a bikini but her dark hair was cut boyishly short, almost GI Jane style.  Dr Stevens, almost chuckled at the comparison. He thought,”yes…yes…she will be the one to watch.”  He focused the binoculars for a clearer view and saw that “GI Jane” had a nose ring and a dragon-fly tattoo displayed upon her back.  At the sight, an unexpected laugh escaped his gaping mouth.  “It was perfect…just perfect,” he thought, “…you may be tough, GI-Jane, but not tough enough to handle what the children have in store for you.”

***

Carol was sick of Mark’s googly eyes upon her.  Thank god, she brought the book.  At that moment she realized the book was upside down and quickly righted it, hoping it went unnoticed.  “Pf-ff… so what if he did…” she thought; “maybe he’d finally take the hint.”

However, Carol had long given up on that.  He was clueless.  Hell, she wouldn’t have come if she’d known he was coming.  At first, Carol had been excited about an afternoon trip to a “deserted” island.  It would nice to get away with her BFF, but BFF informed her at the last-minute that the “guys” would be coming as well.  Unfortunately, by that time, it was too late to back out, without hurting someone’s feelings.

 Carol, sneakily peered over her book to see  Mark finish off a second beer and then toss the bottle toward the incoming tide.  Rolling her eyes, she thought, “What a dick…I’m so over his shit!”

Ted’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“…ah…com’n baby.  Don’t be mad.  You’re just so hot, I thought you could use a little cooling-off!”

“Well, you…mister…are on my naughty list.”

Kimmie poked out her bottom lip and pretended to pout.  She wasn’t mad…truth be told she was getting ready to jump into the water anyway.  She just enjoyed teasing Ted…he was so easy.  She shook her head gently to get the wet hair from her eyes and then slid pink polished finger nails, through her hair, to smooth it back and out of her face.  Ted stood in front of her with puppy dog eyes and open arms.  Kimmie accepted the invite. She pressed her body against his, stood on the tips of her toes and pulled his face to hers for a “make-up” kiss.  However the “make-up” session was soon interrupted by Mark.

“Hey, man, where’s the boat?  Where’s the damn boat?”

Reluctantly, Ted pulled his lips from Kimmie’s and looked in the direction of the pier. Sure enough, the rickety dock stood alone.  The boat was gone.  Looking at where the boat had been, Ted felt a small tinge of panic.  Trying to assure himself he said the next thought that came to mind.

“Um…I don’t know…maybe he had to get gas…or something…?”

“Gas!  Where’s he gonna get gas!  It took us three hours to get here and I didn’t see any freaking gas-stations on the way… did you?

Carol laid down her book, put up a hand to shield her eyes, and looked at the empty pier.

Kimmie, looked over her shoulder and quietly mouthed the same question, “Where’s the boat?”

All four teenagers stared at the empty dock and vast ocean.  The only sound, to be heard, was the incoming and outgoing waves that bathed the island’s white sand.  Each one, too confused to speak, tried to rationalize the cause for the missing boat.

They stood like that for a couple of minutes until Kimmie’s quivering voice broke the silence.

“Ummm…wha…what are we going to d….do…?”

Ted, turned on his heel, ran to where the backpacks lay, and came back, cell phone in hand, hoping for a signal.  Mark tried the same thing, and when he could find none, he cursed and tossed the useless phone on the nearest beach towel.

Carol slipped closer to Kimmie and took her hand in hers, not knowing if she did it to comfort Kimmie or to comfort herself.

***

To be continued…

art by lise