Sea of Secrets Anthology

by J E Feldman

  I was given a rifle and an axe. Hunt sirens, they said. Find and kill the Loreley. On the third night of the hunt, I was weary. I wanted to be with Erla, go dancing with her, tell her I was sweet on her. Maybe because my mind was full of love and romance, I wasn’t as bloodthirsty as the others, and I started to doubt we were right to hunt her. I don’t know why. But it was me who eventually found her.

  I drove my boat through the reeds and she just sat there, hidden, on a rock, that blonde hair of hers covering her shoulders like a cape, and she just looked at me. She made no attempt to flee. I immediately knew it was her. It’s in the eyes. There is an unearthly look in them, and her skin glittered like water glitters when the sun hits its surface.

  This was the murderous creature that lured men to their deaths? She was but a simple girl. Not much older than Erla. She was smaller and more delicate. And beautiful beyond a man’s wild imaginings.

  I stared at her, speechless.

  “Please,” she said.

  That was all. It was the most melodic word I’ve ever heard anyone say. Her voice was low and musical. I shuddered with pleasure. Inconceivable if she were to sing. I would be doomed. Then an image of Erla came into my mind and I knew she had no power over me. And I remembered why I was there.

  She was a killer of the worst kind. A siren. Hundreds, thousands of sailors have found their wet graves because of her. It was my duty to kill her.

  I lifted my rifle and aimed. My arm shook.

  I couldn’t do it. It was wrong. It was like killing a girl, any kind of girl. It could have been Erla. I lowered my rifle.

  “I’m going to let you go,” I said. “But you have to leave, far away, leave the Rhine and swim to the ocean and never come back. Take your sisters with you. And never kill innocent men again.”

  “I cannot swim,” she said, “I am hurt.” And then I saw that the water around her was deeply red with blood. She’d been shot in one of the legs. For she had legs, not fins.

  She pulled herself up, fell back again. I grabbed her arm and helped her to my barge.

  She climbed in. And then I knew what I had to do. I threw a cover over her, started up the boat and with all the speed I had, drove away.

  I steered the boat all the way to the river estuary. When we reached the North Sea, I looked back and nearly fell into the water with shock. It was teeming with sirens, Nixies and undines. She’d called them to follow us. And follow us they did.

  “I will leave,” she said, and looked at me with those iridescent eyes of hers. “My sisters will care for me here. You will live a long, rich life. All your heart’s desires will come true. But on the last night on earth I will return and sing you to eternal sleep, only for you, and your heart will rejoice.”

  I wanted to ask what she meant, but she continued on. “There is one thing I want you to understand. I never meant to kill them. I don’t kill those who love. And you, you love deeply.”

  “But – why? The bridegroom – the bride, the wedding…”

  She smiled, sadly. “Why do you men not understand that my song is never meant for you? It is for me. And for one and one only. The one I have loved and lost.”

  And before I could blink she was gone. And with her, her sisters. I stared into the ocean, but there was only water.

  Maybe I’d imagined it all.

  Maybe I’d hallucinated.

  Maybe this never happened.

  But fact is, from that day on, she was not seen or heard from again. We had our peace. No more siren, no more nightly songs, no more deaths, but also no more fish. For her singing had also attracted all the fish and we never lacked. And with her, all the fish had left. The river was empty. We gave up fishing and shipped goods and people up and down the Rhine instead.

  I married my Erla and we had five children.

  We had a long, rich life. Just like she’d said.

  My Erla died three years ago. And my time is coming soon. Do you know why I know that? Because the fish have returned. I wait for her every night to fulfill her promise. I leave the window open.

  And this is why no one dares share the room next to mine, for you never know when she might return and accidentally take you along, too.

  Maybe it will be tonight.

  I am ready.”

  “I’ve seen her too,” Emmy said. She’d listened solemnly, with a thumb in her mouth. “She sat on a rock, combing her hair.”

  Fridrich nodded. “She has come back and is waiting for me.” Then he lifted his head and listened.

  “Can you not hear her?”

  We were all silent, listening to the storm rage outside.

  “I don’t hear anything,” Max said and shrugged. He looked slightly creeped out.

  I was going to agree. There was nothing. Then, vaguely, beneath the rough din of the storm, I heard a single, unearthly tune that was not of nature’s making.

  It gave me goosebumps.

  “Helmut!” I gasped. “He is out there!”

  Terror filled me. I got up and ran to the door. A pair of rough hands pulled me back.

  “Be reasonable, there is nothing you can do. You help nobody by running out there, getting lost in the storm. I already called the gas station, but no one picked up. The only thing you can do now is wait.”

  “But Helmut—” I could not voice the fear I had. The fear that he fell prey to her. The feeling of unease grew and grew. It was unbearable to know that Helmut was in danger and there was nothing I could do about it.

  “My advice is go up to your rooms and sleep.”

  “How can you say that? I can’t sleep while my husband is out there. He could be anywhere. He could have—” I choked.

  Fridrich shook his head.

  “She doesn’t tempt those with constant hearts.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “I have thought a lot about the Loreley. Maybe we got it terribly wrong. Maybe we are the ones who are the monsters. Maybe we are the killers. We were the ones to taunt, to tease, to hurt her. What did she do, but bring us fish and sing? And if men are so stupid to jump into the river because they cannot resist her song, is that her fault? One thing I know for sure. She could not lure me because my heart belonged to Erla. If you are secure in your husband’s love, then you can go to bed, safe in the knowledge he will be all right. She will not tempt him.”

  “Anyway, it’s just a legend,” Max said, but he sounded uneasy.

  Fridrich looked at him with glittering eyes. “Maybe you are right. Maybe it is just a legend. A fairy tale for little kids.” He popped the pipe back into his mouth.

  Of course, it’s just a legend, but somehow fairy tale and reality had merged and my mind had difficulty keeping that apart.

  “Mom, I am tired,” Emmy looked pale with tiredness.

  I looked at Jenny, who’d awakened and who looked around, confused, and Max, who had a strain about his eyes as well. I was exhausted to the marrow of my bones. The storm still thrashed about the house.

  They were right. There was nothing I could do but wait. I had to get the kids to bed.

  “All right. Let’s go up to the room. Let’s grab some sleep.”

  “It’s the top floor, the room on the right.”

  I begged the innkeeper to call the gas station again, which he agreed to readily, as soon as the power returned. We took the candles and said good night to Fridrich, who’d sunken back into his memories and just nodded absent-mindedly.

  The room was clean and warm. We squeezed, the four of us, into the big bed, even though we could have pulled out the sofa. But tonight we had to be close together, and pray that nothing happened to Helmut.

  I told myself that in an hour I would go down to the main room again and ask the innkeeper to call.

  And then I fell asleep.

  I heard the music through my dreams. A gentle, sweet lullaby. A female voice. It filled my heart with infinitive yearning, for something I could not define, could not understand. I sat up in bed. The kids were still asle
ep.

  It was 5am in the morning.

  Helmut!

  I struggled out of bed, trying not to wake the kids, but they were deeply asleep.

  I went outside the room and stood frozen in the hallway.

  The door to Fridrich’s room was open. And the music came from his room.

  I tapped my fingers against the door and it opened with a creak. It was cold inside. The wind blew through the room because the window was open and the shutter squeaked rhythmically in the wind.

  It was a simple room, with a simple bed, decorated with an old fishernet on the wall. Fridrich was lying on it, fully clothed, with shoes. And bending over him, was a girl in a white dress with long blonde hair. She looked up with a smile and lifted a finger to her lips. Then, in a blink, she jumped out of the window, and with a splash into the river beneath.

  I shouted out in surprise and ran to the window, but could see nothing but darkness.

  I turned to Fridrich. “Did you see that?”

  He lay on his bed, immobile, a smile on his face. I extended a hand to feel his pulse, but I knew the answer already. Someone stepped behind me.

  “She finally came to sing him to his sleep,” the innkeeper said, shaken. He stood behind me and his cheeks were wet with tears. “Like he always said she would.”

  The ambulance came and picked up Fridrich’s body. The fishermen and the innkeeper stood in a solemn row long after the ambulance had left. We stood with them, holding hands.

  The storm had abated and there was strange calm outside.

  Then we returned to the breakfast room and ate breakfast, when the door opened and a tall man in a fireman’s coat entered.

  “Helmut!” I stood and threw my arms around his neck. “Thank God.”

  “I never made it to the gas station. The firemen picked me up and took me to the fire station. I tried to get through to you, but there was no connection. I feared the worst. What a night.”

  “What a night, indeed,” the kids greeted their father effusively.

  “Can we stay here for a couple of days?” Max asked. “This place is gothic and creepy. Kind of cool.”

  “It’s maybe not such a bad idea, at least until Jenny’s better. She is still in bed upstairs with some fever,” I said.

  And so we decided to stay a few more days.

  As we took a walk down the riverside that afternoon, with finally some weak sun rays peeking through the clouds, Helmut looked over the water with an odd expression on his face.

  “I had a moment yesterday when I thought I’d never see you or the kids again,” he suddenly said. “I did not want to say this in front of the kids.”

  “What happened?” I took his hand.

  “After I left the car, I walked some way back to the curve. The storm almost pulled me off my feet and I lost all sense of direction. I actually slipped and fell a bit down the river bank.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Actually, I fell a lot. I fell all the way into the water. It was icy cold and the current was insanely strong. It pulled me down immediately. And I knew this was it. I was going to drown.” His eyes were far away as he relived that moment. “I had that moment, you know, what they say, the moment you die. When you relive your entire life in a single flash. And I felt that the biggest blessing was I’d met and loved you. And that we had our wonderful kids. Nothing else mattered.” He choked up. I blinked back tears and pressed his hand hard.

  “I felt that,” I whispered and leaned my cheek against his shoulder. “I knew something was not right. I felt it.”

  “Then something strange happened.”

  “What?”

  “Someone grabbed my arm and pulled me up with an iron strength and threw me back onto the bank. As if I were a rag doll. And then – and then …” his eyes glazed over in memory.

  “And then?” I prodded on.

  “She said, ‘It’s not your time.’”

  “She?”

  Helmut looked embarrassed and confused. “I may have hallucinated. You know. Lack of oxygen and all that. But all I can say is it was a woman who saved me. She hummed a pretty song that lulled me to sleep and when I awoke, a couple of firemen bent over me. I asked them where the woman was, but they said there was no woman. I actually made them search the area for a while. The firemen did it to humor me, but they thought I’d lost my marbles.”

  “She has blonde hair and iridescent eyes the color of the sea,” I said, softly.

  Helmut looked at me, startled. “Do you know her?”

  I looked over the waves of the Rhine that gently lapped onto the riverbank.

  “Her name is Loreley.”

  Zoey Xolton

  Biography

  Zoey Xolton is a published Australian writer of Dark Fantasy, Paranormal Romance and Horror. She is also a proud mother of two, and is married to her soul mate. Outside of her family, writing is her greatest passion. She is especially fond of short fiction and is working on releasing her own collections in future. To find out more, please visit her website!

  The Sea Witch’s Apprentice

  Zoey Xolton

  Swallowing my fear, I enter the lair of the sea witch. Great arches of bone stretch high above me, the once ribcage of an ancient leviathan. Half buried into the bottom of an immense chasm in the ocean floor, the water pressure this deep feels uncomfortable. It’s colder than ice, and darker than the night sky. Electric eels glow ahead of me in the inky gloom, darting behind eerie white coral formations as I approach.

  The deeper into the lair of the sea witch I venture, the more certain I am of many eyes trained upon me. Nothing, or no one challenges my passage, though the feeling of unease continues to grow within me. Would the sea witch hear me, or would she strike me down? The animosity she bears for my father, Neptune, King of the Seven Seas, is common knowledge for leagues in all directions. Would she dare incur the wrath of the merfolk? For my sake, I hope not. I didn’t come all this way to start a war…

  All I want, all I’ve ever wanted, was for my dreams to be made manifest; and I have heard that for a price, the sea witch can, and does grant wishes. It is said she is a master of dark magic and she can even summon the drowned dead to do her bidding. The thought of an undead army terrifies me… but if the sea witch’s powers are truly so immense, she can surely help me attain what my heart so desperately desires.

  Leaving the exposure of the dark trench and skeletal remains of the leviathan, I follow darting schools of silver fish into a deep cavern that opens into the earth like a great shark’s maw. Black crystals protrude from the walls of solid rock, broken and glinting. They seem to me like cruel, sharp teeth, ready to bite and draw blood, should I dare to stray too close.

  Mustering my courage, I call out. “Hello?” My voice drifts off into the darkness ahead, absorbed by the gloomy void. “Hello?” I try again. “My name is Morluna, and I—”

  “I know who you are,” comes a voice from behind me. It holds a deep, rumbling resonance, like the promise of distant rolling thunder.

  I spin around, my glittering amethyst scales flashing as my long translucent fins trail after me. The sea witch smiles.

  “Welcome to my humble abode, princess,” she hisses. “What brings a delicate morsel, such as yourself, to consort with her dear father’s sworn enemy?”

  Horror wells up within me as I come face to face with the Black Heart of the Deep. I mentally quash the instinct to flee, doing my utmost to appear brave and indifferent.

  “It is said you have the power to grant wishes,” I venture. “That you can make the impossible, possible?” I cringe internally as I hear my voice quaver, but I consciously make an effort to steady my breathing and hold my head high.

  The sea witch smirks as she circles me, like a predator taking measure of its soon to be prey. Her eyes are elongated, black and depthless; and when she blinks, she blinks not one set of eyelids, but two.

  “I have been known to indulge the pleasures of others, for a price,” the sea witch reveals.

 
I feel my fear give way slightly to excitement, to possibility, to a small, but fragile glimmer of hope.

  “So what is it that a princess could wish for, that she doesn’t already have?” purrs the sea witch, running her long, triple-jointed, pale fingers through her wild kelp-green hair. “What is it that your little heart desires?”

  Before I can second guess myself, the words tumble from my mouth, almost of their own volition, “A soul!” I breathe. “I want to attain a soul and live forever.”

  The sea witch grins from gill to gill, her nightmarish needle-like teeth on macabre display. “You seek eternal life? Curious. Your people are blessed with long years already, are they not? Your grandmother lived to see her three-hundredth moon, if my ancient memory serves.”

  I nod half-heartedly. “Three-hundred years is but a speck of sand in the seas of time,” I answer. “When I die, I’ll be forgotten. I will melt into sea foam, dispersed upon the waves, as if I never existed at all.”

  The sea witch’s eyes glitter. “Of course, you know the legends? To achieve this dream, you must first win the heart of a mortal man. It is only through the returned love of a child of God, that you can attain something as precious as an immortal soul.”

  “Two moons ago, I rescued a drowning man from a sinking ship,” I begin. “I know I am not yet eighteen, but I couldn’t bear to wait any longer to visit the surface. Not after hearing my six older sisters’ tales of what it’s like above the waves!”

  The sea witch twirled, her many black tentacles stirring around her. “How old are you, sweet thing?” she quizzed.

  “What does that matter?” I ask.

  “It doesn’t,” she responds. “But I’d like to know. You did come to me in search of aid, after all.”

  “I’m sixteen,” I say defensively. “Old enough to know what I want.”

  “Indeed, dear one. Indeed. The heart wants what the heart wants, there’s no denying that… And does this human know you? Know what you are?”