For years we wondered what kind of creatures the stars could hide.
Little did we know, that the strangest monsters were beneath our tides.
The Siren's Tale[]
As I write this tale, I am in La Rochelle.
Sitting on the beach and surrounded by the cool night air.
This is the very place where he met her.
Le Chanteur de La Mer.
The Singer of The Sea.
My Papy loved the sea. He would spend all his time at this very beach. No matter where he went, the sea always called him back to this very spot. He described it as the voice of an angel. Or a mermaid.
Sirène.
That's what he used to call her. Every time the word left his lips, everything paused.
The ocean would be eerily still. The waves would stop their game of tug-of-war with the moon and listen. The tide would try to distance itself from the fool who had dared to call out to her.
The sand would crunch in protest as he sat on it, not wanting to be close to such a suicidal man.
Humming a tune he had heard earlier that day, he'd sit and wait.
He would watch the sun hide behind the horizon,
Then emerge the next day.
No matter how many times he sat and called out to her, she never came.
Yet, every night, her melodious voice dragged him back to the very same spot in the sand.
They called my Papy a fool, a mad-man, and assumed he was in love.
Yet he still went and shouted her name, and waited.
Soon he became obsessed.
He would watch the ocean with an unblinking eye.
He'd call out to her, "Où es-tu?! Espèce de poisson stupide! Je vais te tuer!"
(tr: Where are you?! You stupid fish! I'm going to kill you!)
Nothing would happen, he would scream again, "Montrez votre vilain visage vous maquereau envahi!"
(tr: Show your ugly face you overgrown mackerel!)
Yet still, nothing would happen.
Soon the voice he willingly followed, tortured him into coming.
Her voice clawed at his conscience.
When my Papy married my Mamy he hoped The Sirène would leave him be.
And she did.
Soon my Mamy was pregnant. With my Papa.
When my father was born, my grandfather was subjected to her torture once again.
One night, my Papy walked to the beach and sat on the sand.
He called out the forbidden name.
And she responded.
The next morning, a simple note was found.
"Sirène."
I hear something.
Like a sad voice, singing.
There is no one here but me.
What if it's Sirè-