The young man frantically watched as the row boat steadily grew smaller as it approached the awaiting vessel, a tattered black flag bearing a skeletal face waving atop it's daunting visage. He was bound to the mast of a sinking ship by thick rope, forced to watch helplessly as the pirates whom he had secured passage with left him behind after their ship had suffered damage in a storm. "'Tis nothing personal lad," drawled the captain as they secured his thrashing arms to the ship whilst he begged and attempted to break free. "I dare not cheat the sea out 'a life after she worked so hard to bring down me ship, ya see... she be expectin' payment." He grinned wickedly, golden teeth gleaming as his brutish crew jeered at his desperate pleas for mercy. Now the men were gone, sailing off with another band of pirates, and the hopelessness of his plight bore down upon him like an anchor around his neck.
He was going to die.
Bowing his head in resignation, he began to pray for his soul. The ship continued to sink lower into the ocean as tears flowed freely down his face. He felt no shame; there was no one here to see him weep. The sun beat down harshly as time passed, the sea slowly devouring the broken ship's remains. So absorbed was the man in his despair that he failed to notice the disturbances in the water that lapped at his knees. A sudden slapping sound broke into his consciousness, his head snapping up in alarm. A dark shape was moving through the water, circling closer to his immobile form. He felt every nerve as if lit on fire, struggling in vain to loosen his bonds once more. "Please God, not sharks! Must I be eaten alive now as well?..." The young mans broken sob died in his throat as the shadow ceased to move before him.
The head and shoulders of a young woman broke through the surface. Wild hair clung to her shoulders, a likeness of black ink swirling upon water. Her pale torso was shamefully bare. Inquisitive green eyes peered into his own. He was frozen in shocked disbelief, and, far worse, longing. Never had he laid eyes upon such a beautiful woman, and where had she come from? How was she swimming so surely in the rough water? Perhaps another ship had been claimed by the storm; he opened his mouth to question her when a gleam in the water caught his attention, tearing his gaze from her disorienting looks. The woman's ivory stomach melted seamlessly into a sleek appendage made of petite scales, iridescent silver in color. The man's breath became labored, his gaze traveling frantically up and down her form repeatedly, mind stubbornly refusing the sight before him. With a groan, he let his head fall back to rest upon the wood and closed his eyes.
As a holy man, he knew this was no creature of God. She was an abomination, a being of malice and evil. He'd heard the legends, warnings, telling of those not quite human beings who belonged to the sea, sinfully beautiful creatures that drowned the hapless victims of shipwrecks, dragging them deep into the ocean depths. He would sooner have welcomed the presence of sharks. Forcing his eyes open, he saw the creature had swum nearer, now a mere arms length from his face. Her full lips turned up slowly into a smile when their eyes met once more. "Hello" she said softly, her voice low and song-like. "I am called Syrena." The man's terror was evident, his chest heaving. "What shall I call you, wretched soul?"
"Phillip," he felt almost compelled to respond despite his distress. As she drifted closer still, he struggled with his conflicting feelings of disgust and desire. "Tell me Phillip, are you ready for death?" She spoke with a strange accent unlike any he'd encountered before. The water was at his neck, having risen in his distracted state. Syrena's piercing eyes stayed locked on his as she continued to close the distance between them."If you are going to kill me temptress, be done with it; I know where my soul will reside for eternity!" Despite Phillip's attempt to sound strong, the words were empty, his energy spent. The water now reached his unshaven chin. Syrena's exotic face came to rest inches from his own, soft fingers caressing his cheek. "Do you wish for death?" She implored huskily. Phillip felt the cold water biting into the skin, her gentle tone soothing his tortured mind. "No," he murmured, defeated. "No, I wish to live."
She smiled once more before she leaned in swiftly and pressed her mouth to his, a wave crashing over their heads.