Lament of the Siren
An idea I've been playing with for a long time now.
Disclaimer: This is for entertainment purposes only.
Raining again.
It ranged from a light sprinkle to a veritable monsoon. The inhabitants of the sprawling metropolis opted for dryness, keeping to the insides of buildings until the need to be somewhere drove them into the open.
It was his own fault for living in a place where the weather was so famously wet. He may not have chosen the place for the weather, but he didn't have to like it.
The living expenses were cheap, the food was unhealthy, and the bars were passé at best, but he loved every minute of it.
He knew people from all walks of life in his daily commute to work. He talked to beggars and butchers, businessmen and butlers, bailiffs and bellhops, and every one had a story to tell.
All of them had found a rhythm for their lives, some peace to shelter from the chaos around the world they lived in. All of them with an interesting past and a very set view on what their future was going to be.
He had been an attentive listener, eager to hear the worries and troubles of others. Not that he didn't have any of his own, but he knew the value of talking and he knew the comfort of letting them talk.
He had so many things on his mind, obstacles to overcome, plans to make, and people to meet, all of which held a presence in his mind. Talking to other people alleviated his worries, if only for a moment, and allowed him to just focus on the present.
The future for him was always uncertain but tonight, his friends had invited him out to a pub close to his little house. It was a little haunt that he never went to before, either because of laziness or just inconvenience.
He shook his head after he got the call. How he could be friends with a bodybuilder, a machinist, and a chronic prankster was beyond him. The details of their beginnings was almost forgotten to him, the only memory remaining was a paintball battle and a football match. A real friend of a friend of a friend deal.
He rarely attended the late night outings, the reason a combination of personal preference and distance to travel. This time though, the pub he was invited to was a short walk from his home.
The walk to the pub was easy enough. It was only a few blocks from his hovel and all on a slight incline. The weather was dry for now but the swelling clouds threatened to spill over at any moment.
By the time he got there, his friends were waiting for him, in line for the pub which was already full by going on ten. The wait was short and the table was a decent one, in a far corner with a decent view of the stage.
The pub was very old style, lined wall to wall with a deep brown oaken feel to it. There were a few booths and a long bar with a dozen tables in between, a small stage in the front with a microphone and a few instruments in between.
The main entertainment for the night was a smaller scale of things, waitresses taking turns to sing in between their services. The songs ranged from pop hits to original scores, dainty girls with light voices to the more experienced servers with huskier tones.
The night went off without a hitch, loud music and endless drinks led to a hell of a night, lasting into the long hours of the night. The pub food wasn't even that bad. He had a shepherd's pie that was probably one of the best he ever had.
He looked up to thank the server for the drinks, only to have his voice stopped at the source when he saw those eyes. Those piercing brown orbs staring right through him.
Had he seen her from a distance, he may have considered her quite fit, Average height with long raven-colored silky hair and an angular face that some people liked. The eyes were so much more unique.
He had heard once before that eyes were the window to the soul. He had never believed it until that moment, the flash of contact that seemed to last a lifetime. So much could be seen in those eyes, much more than just her soul. Her very being seemed to be contained behind her eyes, all the experiences she ever had and all the people she ever met, all combined into one soft look.
He could see her pain, but for the life of him couldn't pick out a single detail about it. It was so clear and yet so vague, a landscape he could never remember, no matter how many times he saw it.
The encounter was fleeting as she hurried away to deliver the next table that ordered drinks. His mind rejoined his friends as they roared in celebration of more alcohol.
It got close to closing time and most of the larger parties had already left for home. His friends were mostly packed up and just focused on finishing the drinks they had.
That's when she happened.
The selfsame woman who served them made her way up to the stage. She moved with such grace that he could spot her in a crowd, walking between the drunken rabble without stumbling or bumping into them. She got onto the stage with her hair over her eyes and took the microphone in her hands.
Never before had he heard a sound so majestic, a voice so serene. He could hear her emotions more than words, the power of her experiences and hurt flowing through every fiber of his being.
The song was a sad one, a tale of lost love leading to the loss of everything else, closing her heart to everything else that might want to hurt her again.
He could hear the shaken tone of her voice as she sung, the sadness being relived as the sound left her lips. The power of her song swept him up and took him along the same path that she walked, the gloom rising in his chest and threatening to take everything away from him.
The music grew slowly more intense, her hands on the microphone being the only thing that she could hold onto for support. She swept her hair back and opened her eyes, staring directly at him. He was paralyzed, held captive by her very presence.
Almost unbidden, tears welled up in his eyes, a red haze darkening his vision and heat gathered within his mind. His own painful experiences bubbled to the surface as the memories flashed in front of his eyes.
He was almost to the point of crying when the song stopped, the music no longer carrying him into his past. A look of dismay crossed his face as his body slowly went back to normal, feeling deprived of the most incredible thing he had ever experienced.
The sound of sparse claps shook him back to reality, looking wildly around to see if he could spot her again, even just one last time.
All he saw were the happy faces of his friends, finishing their drinks and packing up to go. Everyone in the pub was seemingly unaffected too, their movements in the form of a drunken stupor rather than in the aftereffects of an almost divine event.
He spared a glance back at the stage to see it empty, the mysterious girl having left it to cash out for the night.
A rough hand whacked him on the back, the muscled arm hitting him much harder than intended. Another look back showed his friend to be almost catatonic from the alcohol, eyes half closed and words of appreciation rolling slowly off of his tongue. The sight was commonplace, their friend totally drunk while the rest of them sober enough to haul him to the nearest taxi home.
Tonight was different though. He was within walking distance of his home and the lug head was conscious enough to put one foot in front of the other, requiring only two others to keep his balance.
It was raining again.
The lineup for the taxis was getting shorter by the second as several of empty ones drove in an almost religious procession in front of the pub. The customers were even more anxious to get away from the water and into a moderately clean cab, making the line go even faster.
With a hasty goodbye his friends departed, wasting no time in shoving their shit-faced friend from the rain into the passenger seat. The taxi drove away and he waved it off, preparing to sludge home in the rain.
He was still in the aftereffects of shock from the sheer beauty of the singer and her voice, opting to stay near civilization just a bit longer until he found himself again.
Civilization had a different idea for him. The last patron to leave the pub ran out with his hand covering his mouth, vomiting right next to where he was standing.
Disgusted, he rushed to the back of the pub, keeping a safe distance from the garbage bin so as not to be assaulted by two foul odors in one night. He had to hug the wall to keep under the cover of the roof, valuing every second of dryness he could spare.
He had an umbrella with him, he just didn't want to leave for home until he got a grip on himself. He took slow and steady breaths, trying to regain any peace he had before that woman shook up his whole life.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear.
The sound of the back door squeaked open and he turned his head to see a flash of black emerge. She was putting on her jacket as the door closed, a worn out green hoodie on top of her black dress. A small bag rested on her arm, not big enough to contain anything more than the bare essentials for living in the 21st century.
She exhaled unsteadily as she saw the weather, cursing under her breath as she raised the hood made of a fabric that would do next to nothing to stop the rain from reaching her. She clutched her handbag close to her chest as if it was her only possession in the world.
She stood still for a moment, faltering as she tried to think of her next step.
He might have thought that she was hesitant to go out into the rain at first, but her feet told a different story, as if she didn't have many places to go, rain or shine.
She was just about to step out into the rain when he coughed. She stepped back in surprise, unaware that he was there in the first place. A few seconds passed before she stepped back into the safety of the cover.
"I saw you inside. You were fantastic." He said. He hoped that he wasn't coming on too strong, although as a server he was sure she was used to much worse.
A glint of appreciation flashed in her eyes but she was otherwise silent.
"Do you have far to go in the rain?" He asked.
She was silent again but her eyes said so much more. He never had a chance with someone like that. Such a strong and beautiful woman never needed anyone or anything.
He looked down at his umbrella and then back at her. It really wasn't that far to his house. He reached down and took it by the handle, flipping it around and pointing it in her direction.
The woman looked at it suspiciously. It was clear she wasn't used to gifts, maybe even kindness. With her demeanor, she was the kind of person to do everything for herself.
"I don't live far from here and you need it more."
She still didn't take it, staring right through him. It was clear what was on her mind. The way she walked, the way she held herself. Her eyes ever watchful, staring beyond any guise or mask that anything could summon up.
"Please, I insist." He stated.
Delicate hands wrapped around the handle, giving the umbrella a firm grip. He wondered what she was looking for, what she had been through trying to find it.
He let go, dropping his hand back to his side. "Have a good night." He said. He gave her one last look, etching her enchanting features into his memory before leaving for his home. He put his hands in his pockets, keeping his extremities warm while the rest of him was drenched in water.
He didn't look back at the pub, trying his best to tear himself away from the woman. He never liked the rain before but now he didn't mind it. It used to be a bother but it became relaxing, washing away the troubles he had before and leaving him with peace.
Nothing was this relaxing. Nothing felt this good. Nothing had quite the same effect as having his worries literally vanishing, washing away with the water.
What was even better was that it was downhill back to his house. A very shallow decline but an angle nevertheless. For the first time in his life, he was glad to be walking in the rain.
In what seemed to be too little time, he arrived on his front porch, scrounging for his keys in his back pocket. Unsuccessful, he felt around in his other pockets, looking around to see if he dropped them anywhere.
It was at that part that he saw a figure walking along the same road he took. All he needed to see was the green hoodie to know who it was. He halted his search for the key and looked at her as she strode her way to the place where his walkway and the sidewalk intersected.
They stared at each other for some time, communicating with their eyes rather than their mouths. He wouldn't get a word out of her anyways.
He could only guess at what she wanted, so he knelt down and took the spare key below the welcome mat. After unlocking the door, he replaced the key back under the mat so she knew where it was.
With the door open, he walked inside, leaving his soaked jacket on the radiator. He left half of it open as well as the door. He could only hope that she had a place to rest close to there, so that she wouldn't take rest in a complete strangers house. He left the living room to visit the bathroom, grabbing a towel to dry his hair.
When he heard his door close, a strange emotion flowed through him, carrying equal parts of happiness and sadness. Placing the used towel in the hamper, he grabbed another and brought it to the front room.
The umbrella was withdrawn and placed upright near the door while she stood dripping on the tiles. He walked towards her and held his hand out.
"I'm sure you'll want to get out of that jacket." He said. "You can have a shower and anything you can find in the kitchen. The bedroom's the last one on the left."
She slowly took her jacket off, peeling the wet fabric from her skin. It wasn't nearly as wet as his clothes were, but in need of drying nonetheless.
When she gave him the jacket, he unfurled the towel he had and gave it to her. She accepted it more happily than the umbrella and rubbed it fiercely around her hair, desperate to get as much water as possible from it.
He put the jacket on the spare space on the radiator and looked back, her eyes staring at him through tousled hair. She looked even more gorgeous with her hair unkempt, giving her a much more realistic look.
The look in her eyes was much softer now, grateful for the help that he gave her but wary if he were to try anything. He wouldn't even think about it, but he respected her experiences and position.
He took a pillow and a blanket from the linen cupboard and set up a place on the couch. He had slept there many times before, mostly from watching TV late into the night. He also had a few guests here and now, grateful for the company whenever he could get it.
It was at this point that he heard the shower running. He was just about ready to fall asleep, getting things ready for the night. While she was occupied, he went into his closet and chose a few generic pieces of clothes that she could wear. He knew that he was being presumptuous but he was sure that she wouldn't want to wear the same black dress in the street that she wore after a long night in a bar.
With all of the affairs that he could think of in order, he got between the sheets of his makeshift bed and found a comfortable position. He was warm on his couch and glad for the respite after a long day.
Just before he nodded off, he could hear soft footsteps coming from the bedroom. He knew his house and he knew the sound of feet. He could tell that his guest had made her way softly to him, standing at a distance but keeping a close tab on him.
He would normally find being watched disturbing, but knowing who it was and seeing those eyes made the experience calming, sending him off to sleep even faster. Before he fell completely into the grasp of slumber, a smile crossed his face.
This just might have been the most memorable night of his life.
When he woke up, it was already mid afternoon. He groaned at the light, feeling unhappy at both the hour and the mild hangover. He could always hold his drink but there was always some lingering effect.
He fell out of the couch in an effort to wake himself up fully, head banging against the coffee table with some force. He groaned in pain and held his hand to his head, covering the injured spot to avoid anything else making it feel even worse.
He stumbled over to the kitchen to see a plate and a paper before him. The plate had buttered toast and a few slices of cheese and apple on it, cold but very nicely prepared. A glass of orange juice sat next to it, looking very appetizing after many hours of sleep.
He tucked right into the meal, covering the bread with jam before taking a big bite of the toast. It was then that he took a look at the paper.
It contained a very brief thanks as well as a 10£ note to cover the food she had for breakfast. It also had a post script, telling him that she had borrowed his umbrella for any future downpours, fully intending to bring it back.
As he read her words, his smile grew bigger and bigger. He felt so lucky to have been in her presence even for just a night. The final line gave him pause. A name to attribute to the mysterious beauty. A name he sincerely hoped to hear in the future.
Morgana.
Amenson out.