Mysterious Sea

Under a sky of bruised violet, the Death Sea spread out, its black waters still as clear as glass, and it swallowed both hope and light. It had no surface movement, and no gulls screamed above. Sailors called it cursed, a place where compasses spun wild and stars vanished. In a weathered tavern perched on a crumbling cliff, old Mara told a different story—not of a sea that killed, but one that clung to what it loved, fierce and unyielding.Centuries ago, the Death Sea was no death at all. Its shores were thick with olive groves and wildflowers, and its blue waters were full of fish. A fishing village thrived there, its nets heavy, its hearths warm. Among the villagers was Lira, a girl with eyes like storm clouds and a heart tethered to the sea. She would burst into bubbles of laughter as she swam into its depths, searching for silver fish. The elders warned against swimming at night, whispering of a hunger in the dark water, a presence that craved more than flesh. Lira, bold and restless, dismissed their tales as old fear.One moonless night, when the village slept, Lira crept to the shore. The quiet sea was reflecting the starless sky on its surface. Her strokes were muted as she slipped into the cool water. But as she dove deeper, the sea changed. It grew thick, heavy, like it was holding its breath. Her lungs burned, yet she pushed on, drawn to a faint glow below. There, in the depths, she saw it—a figure, pale as bone, drifting just beyond reach. Though it spoke softly and clearly, its form was neither man nor beast, and its eyes were hollow. It said to stay. The sea keeps what it loves.Panic seized her. She kicked upward, heart pounding, but the water clung like chains, dragging at her limbs. The figure reached out, its touch cold yet gentle, like a mother’s hand on a fevered brow. As dawn broke, the village discovered Lira's boat adrift, empty, with her vision blurring and her strength waning. The last thing she felt was the sea's eternal embrace. Her nets lay untouched, her shawl tangled in the oars. They searched for days, calling her name across the waves, but the sea gave nothing back. Weeks later, the fish vanished. The groves withered, their leaves curling black. The water turned dark, its blue heart gone, and the village began to die. As their homes crumbled into salt and dust, families fled. Those who stayed spoke of a curse, and the Death Sea earned its name.Mara, her voice rough as the cliffs, told the tale differently. While sipping bitter ale, she would say, "The sea didn't kill Lira." “It loved her too much to let her go.” She swore that on still nights, if you stood on the shore and listened, you’d hear Lira’s voice, woven into the silence of the waves, singing a song no mortal throat could hold. She spoke, but few dared to test it. The Death Sea brooked no trespassers, its black expanse a warning to the world.Years passed, and the village became a memory, its bones buried in sand. Yet stories of Lira lingered, whispered in ports and taverns. Some said she’d become part of the sea, her soul bound to its depths. Others claimed she was the hunger the elders feared, luring sailors to their doom. Mara, now bent and gray, held to her truth. One night, too old to care for fear, she hobbled to the shore alone. The sea lay still, its surface gleaming like obsidian. She stood there and took a shallow breath as she listened. Then, faint as a sigh, she heard it—Lira’s song, rising from the deep, mournful and beautiful.Mara smiled, her eyes wet. “You’re still here,” she whispered. She sat on the cold sand, letting the song fill her, until the tide crept close and the sky paled. When morning came, Mara was gone, her footprints trailing to the water’s edge. The Death Sea kept its silence, vast and unyielding, keeping its secrets close. The villagers who discovered her shawl claimed that that day, the sea looked different—less black and almost alive. But those who passed its shores sometimes paused, listening for a song they couldn’t quite hear, wondering what the sea had claimed—and what it loved too much to lose.