Hello, internet!
This week, The Larkin Lair is going to present you with a special
treat*. Every day, leading up to this day, I put up a post
discussing the things that most inspired me as I began writing my
series,
Lorelei, Once.
Day 1:
Sirens
Day 2:
The Forest
Day 3+4:
Mythology and the Real World
Day 5:
Music
And now, at last, I offer you the first chapter of SIREN. Enjoy!
CHAPTER 1: THE ENDING
The man on the shore seemed to
realize that mine was the last face he would ever see. For an hour, he savored
the sight of me, his booted feet pressing down into the mud. The wind blew
through the trees all around us, and clouds disrupted the light of the sun
overhead, but his gaze never left mine. As our eyes were tethered, I did not move,
except where the water tugged at my hair and caused me to drift. I feared that,
if I looked away, he would realize where he was and retreat into the woods,
freed from my silent call, never to be seen again.
He had come from the depths of
the forest as all humans do—without fanfare, without direction. Unlike most
humans, however, he did not seem lost. He came directly for the pond which
housed my siblings and me, and he peered through the surface as if searching
for something. His gaze stopped roving once he saw me.
My brothers and sisters scattered
all around, playing the usual game—hands out, lips parted, tittering softly and
calling for the man to join us in our swim. But his eyes were mine—and, perhaps
only because I had been singled out, I found myself strangely somber. With most
of the humans that found their way to our pond, I could tease and cajole with
my siblings. But with this man, I did not smile. I did not blink. I met his
intense, uninhibited gaze, and I invited him in with silence.
The forest sighed, tousling the
man’s hair and stirring the blue lilies that crowded the pond’s surface. The
water shifted a little, just enough to take me an inch farther away. The man on
the shore followed, shuffling his feet with great care, as if he could tread
across the top of the pond and pluck me out into the air. The concentration in
his eyes was such that, for a moment, I imagined he would.
My siblings became more excited
as the man’s feet switched places again, each step sending ripples out towards
us. Only now did I move, parting my arms and offering him a small, welcoming
smile. He stilled, his eyes flickering across my features. Then he took three
steps closer.
The water was up past his thighs,
now. He paused, his hands coming to rest against his belt. This was
unsurprising; some chose to undress before their final swim. But he settled for
removing his tools and tossing them to the side, back to the shore, and
therefore beyond my caring. What happened above the surface of the water had
nothing to do with me—that, just as the rest of the outside world that
mattered, was the realm of the Keeper.
Faceless, ageless, the Keeper
ruled over every leaf, every twig, every sprite and breeze. Everything did as
the Keeper willed it to, or it ceased to be. The Keeper’s forest led
unsuspecting humans to our clearing, so that we could lead them into the water.
Whether our unseen monarch caused this or merely allowed it was none of my
concern. I had only one care, one duty, and I was performing it now by
gesturing to the lost man, and allowed him another small smile.
Having shed his burden, the man
began wading towards us—me—again. His expression was still solemn, almost grim,
with none of the playful eagerness that I expected by this stage. He scarcely
seemed to see my brothers and sisters, though they were calling for him so
loudly by now that it seemed impossible he did not know they were there.
My smile faltered as the man came
to a stop, just as he reached the abrupt end of the shallow water, where the
pond suddenly deepened. He did not feel for the edge with his feet. He did not
look down. But again, he seemed to sense what was coming. His eyes rested on
the surface of the water that separated us, then focused back on mine.
He dove in.
My brothers and sister howled with
laughter as the man plunged into the pond, sliding down between the long stems
of the blue lilies. We gathered together, watching him kick and squirm to get
free. Each thrash and tug drove him deeper into the water. His limbs caught in
the lily stems. The flowers, which are so lovely and delicate, are unyielding
once someone falls into their snare. The man struggled. He shouted—not from
fear, but from something else—and swallowed water.
My siblings flitted just out of
reach, giggling as they watched him drown. I drifted between them, accepting
congratulations with giddy humility. This was an unusual trial—normally we
worked together, beckoning and cooing until the humans entered the water. Yet
victory was ours. Or rather, it would be soon.
But something was wrong.
The man would not stop fighting.
He was so badly tangled in the lily roots that he could not move one of his
legs. The last of his air was slipping between clenched teeth, fleeing back to
the world above. But he did not grow still. My siblings gave him a wider birth
as he thrashed. He raised his head, and caught sight of me again. He twisted,
and kicked, and freed one arm.
My laughter died on my lips. The
man heaved with his other arm, and his body swung wildly in the water.
Ungainly, trapped, seconds from death, he came towards me.
My brothers and sisters
scattered. I was too startled to move. I remained, motionless, as the man
careened in my direction. His free hand flailed, and latched onto my arm.
That final effort claimed too
much of his strength—he was beyond fading now. But his grip was strong. I could not pull away. I could not pry his
fingers loose.
Sparks of outrage caught in my
chest, and I looked up to snarl at him. The angry words died just as my
laughter had, fading before they could escape.
The light in his eyes was doused,
but they still held that strange intensity as they found mine. Only now could I
put a name to that light: recognition.
As his grip weakened, I realized
that there was no harm he could do to me—not now, not even when he had been up
on the shore. I stopped trying to scrape his hand off of mine, and remained
where I was, watching with fading pleasure as he lost the wager he hadn’t
knowingly taken.
His eyes were gray, and seemed to
carry in them some weight greater than any I could comprehend. My anger and
even my confusion fizzled. I could not look away. I found my chest rising and
falling in time with his final exhale.
He was not old, but he was not
very young, either. His chestnut-brown hair was long—I could see how long now
that the water was taking it out from its knot. His nose was bent from some
ill-adventure I could only guess at. A scar ran from the corner of his mouth to
his chin. There were other lines on his face—lines that spoke of years and
hardship and, inconceivably, a life.
Somewhere beyond the water,
beyond the forest even, this man had lived.
It was some time before I
realized that his hand had fallen away from my arm. It was some time later that
I realized there was no one inside of those eyes left to stare back at me.
My brothers and sisters were
quick to return to their idle games and chatter; they were back to play and
nothingness even before our guest had completely faded, even before his hold on
me was lost. We care for very little outside of the game—if there is no human
to call into the water, there are few things that will occupy our attention,
and nothing that is not quickly washed from our memories. Such is our existence,
and there has never been call to question it.
Still, I could not turn away.
Though they were now vacant, the light in those gray eyes lingered in the
memory of mine. I found only a strange discomfort when I tried to pull too far
away from the meaningless, empty body. It was several days before I could
translate the thought that was drifting up from a depth I didn’t know my mind
held—a thought which caused me to linger near the scar-faced man, even as the
pond claimed him, even as I knew the time must come when those curious gray
eyes must fade to nothing, leaving behind only his pond-soaked bones.
He had known me. And, impossibly, I felt as if I
knew him.
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