Siren Song, Pt. I

“Rick! Rick! RICHARDD!!” I shriek out into the gail, and a wave engulfs me, lifting me from the vessel, ramming its foamy salt fingers down my throat and scratching like sandpaper into my lungs.

I cough and sputter on its retreat, as another wave hits. No time to breathe - a wall of water is already forcing itself upon me, hitting me full in the face, stinging as it rushes up into my nose, my eyelids, completely washing away my sense of direction.

I no longer know which way is up or down. I am tossed and tumbled like seaweed in the surf. Am I sinking or rising? The water is an indomitable force. Unconcerned with my struggle for breath. And as another wave submerges me, I gasp a quick inhale to choke on another mouthful of water, and realize:

I am going to die.

There is a simple, profound clarity to this thought.

It brings me back to myself - my heart kicks into overdrive, adrenaline sets in and now I am fighting, kicking as hard as I can against my fate, when my head slams into something - hard. Darkness, dizziness, accompanied by the urge to vomit, until I reach out with a hand and feel a slick surface. The hull of the boat. 

No. I am NOT going to die!

I shout it out against the furies in my mind as I struggle to get a grip around the edge of the vessel. The ocean is fighting me, and my limbs feel heavy as I strain to pull myself up to its platform, lacking the strength I need to save myself, hand slipping and straining to grab hold.

I can’t do it.

NO.

I HAVE TO.

Grabbing the railing, I kick furiously against the waves, propelling myself upward with enough force to swing onto the boat. The storm beats around me as I roll to the floor and grab hold onto the rail with all of my might, my heart hammering as tears fill my eyes with saltwater again. 

“RICKKK!!!” I scream into the wind, “RICHARDDD!!!” 

This is a panic deeper than the prospect of death - there is no voice calling back to me in the distance. There is nothing but the shrill sound of my own voice screaming itself into silence for the rest of the night.

***

On the third night, without food or water, I am half-conscious resting against the prow when I see it. The fin. It rises, then disappears. I have no energy to be excited or frightened as I stare out over the vast emptiness of the ocean. Until it returns. Whatever the creature is, it’s circling me now. A thrill of terror rises in my throat as it passes closer, a third time. But I have no energy. My voice is gone. My skin is peeling. My eyes are red and heavy and burnt. I close them, praying it goes away on its own.

I know I’m going to die now, but I’d rather die on my own terms than being ripped to shreds as a piece of prey. And I’d rather starve than be a mouthful for a sea creature.

Splash.

My eyes flutter open, and see a webbed hand reaching its way into the boat. I gasp and blink again. It’s gone. Am I hallucinating now? My body shudders in the heat.

A small, dark head rises up, and a pale face with deep green eyes stares back at me.

Holy shit.

I’ve gone crazy.

~

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