Aria, p.11
Aria, page 11
“Coffee?” Dad offers as his wife enters the kitchen at a few minutes past seven in the morning.
Mom kisses his cheek before answering.
“You read my mind.”
Dad chuckles; eyes red-rimmed and puffy.
“Maybe I’m becoming a Siren too,” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood as he hands her a steamy mug of café con leche.
His sleep-deprived spouse gratefully accepts.
“Hungry?” he adds, too exhausted to construct complete sentences.
Mom nods enthusiastically.
“What are you in the mood for?” her husband manages a thin smile.
“Whatever is easy,” she coos, takes a big gulp of the hot brew and sighs.
Dad grabs the extra-large Teflon frying pan and turns it on low as he goes to the refrigerator for the carton of eggs and the container of butter. Next, he grabs the loaf of white bread from the bread box. He moves so confidently that it makes me giggle.
“Why are you giggling at me?” he lightheartedly scoffs as he blushes.
“I don’t know,” I fib, turning red too. I do not want to admit that I am happy to have him as my stepfather. I do not know what we would do without him.
“Stop looking at me,” he admonishes playfully, throwing the dishtowel at my head.
“Okay,” I laugh again.
“Come help your old man make some food,” he orders like a general.
Happily, I come to his aid, taking over the task of cracking several brown eggs with some salt and pepper, and a tablespoon of milk into one of the lovely cobalt-blue mixing bowls. David gets another pan to cook some bacon he found in the freezer. Quickly, he thaws the package in some water in the sink. Before long, the entire kitchen smells wonderful.
“I’m hungry,” Ando’s voice startles me as he enters the roomy kitchen, his teddy bear accompanying him.
“Good morning, little man,” his father greets first.
Thrilled to see her son alive and well, Mom walks to him and kisses his forehead making him smile. Not wanting to crowd him, I stand by the granite kitchen island waiting for the frying pan to heat up to scramble the eggs. I wink at him and he winks back.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Mom greets, kneeling to look directly in his eyes. “How did you sleep?”
“Okay,” he replies with a sleepy tone.
“Any more nightmares?” I add, hoping the answer is no.
Regrettably, he nods and tightens his grip on Alfredo the Bear.
“Daddy and Lena are making bacon, eggs and toast,” Mom informs with a genuine smile.
“Mmm,” he responds like his usual self.
Somehow, that is all that is needed to cheer us up.
🦉
“Get away from me!” my brother’s eardrum-piercing screams wake me from a sexy dream starring Andrew and me.
“Holy crap!” I cry out as I search for my robe and slippers.
This is the third night in a row that phantom dreams have haunted his thoughts. He always wakes in terror, but within seconds he forgets what the dreams are about. Mom and Dad have not left his side, hoping that their presence will put him at ease; unfortunately, it has not. In fact, I think they have made it worse.
“Baby?” Mom coddles softly, wiping the sweat from his brow. Dad sits beside her, holding his hand, whispering caring words in Spanish.
I look at the three and turn silently to go back to my room, feeling utterly useless.
🦉
Why are days only twenty-four hours long? There should be some way to add a few more hours to the Earthly time cycle. In the near future, I will find a way to do that. Maybe one day I will meet Gaia, Goddess of the Earth, and suggest doing just that.
Yeah! Sure! That’s going to happen!
Last night, I woke to strange clunky footsteps in the hallway. Next, David’s low whispers could be heard, but not understood. I swear I even heard Ando’s small voice as well; however, when I rolled out of bed to check, the hallway was empty.
When I finally fell back asleep, I kept tossing and turning trying to get comfortable. Unfortunately, try as I might, I was the young lady whose noble identity is proven through a test of her physical sensitivity like in Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tale The Princess and the Pea.
Tired and irritable, I tumble out of bed this morning and stumble to the washroom in a zombie-like state where I fumble into my robe. Now, all I want to do is go right back to bed, but instead I make my way to the kitchen.
“How’s Ando today?” I ask, needing better news.
“He only woke once last night,” David informs with a tired yawn.
“That’s good,” I respond, knowing that my parents and brother have not had a good night’s rest for almost a week.
Mom and Dad glance at each other. Their eyes narrow like they are silently communicating. Dad growls and gets up to refill his coffee cup. My mother simply appears overwhelmed.
“What’s wrong?” I probe, wondering why they are keeping me out of the loop.
Silence.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I question again.
This time my stepdad speaks first.
“He’s been sleepwalking,” he reveals with a loud exhale.
The hairs on my arms immediately stand on end and my stomach lurches.
“Ando’s never sleepwalked,” I state, scratching my head.
“We know,” they answer in unison.
This is not good!
“Good morning, everybody,” my brother greets as he rounds the corner with Alfredo in tow.
“Hey, buddy!” Dad responds happily, his face instantly brightening at the sight of the half-awake six-year-old with the sleep-tousled hair and the droopy expression.
“Good morning, baby,” Mom smiles too, her eyes crinkling on the sides due to her lack of slumber. “How are you feeling today?”
“I’m okay,” Ando yawns as he informs us.
Sleepily, he looks down at his favorite teddy.
“Alfredo is a little bit tired, but he wants breakfast,” my sibling replies as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes.
At my brother’s request, Dad jumps up.
“Does Alfredo want some pancakes?” our father gleams with a wink.
Ando giggles.
“Pancakes with blueberries?” my brother adds.
“Coming right up, son,” Dad chuckles as he goes to the fridge to retrieve the pint of blueberries.
🦉
Needing a break and a well-deserved evening out, my parents gather the last of their belongings. Mom has reluctantly agreed to go on a date night due to some heavy negotiating on Dad’s part. I think we all need a night of boring and peaceful.
“Are you sure you’ll be alright with your brother tonight?” Dad asks as he helps our mother into her black cardigan.
Rolling my eyes, I answer.
“We’ll be fine,” I state with confidence. “I promise.”
“If you need anything… anything at all,” Mom interjects. “Just call us.”
“I will,” I grin at her protective nature.
“Ando?” our father says, getting my brother’s undivided attention.
“Yes, Daddy?” Ando replies as he smiles, showing the gap where he recently lost a tooth while biting into a rather large, juicy apple.
“Do not leave the house under any circumstance,” Dad orders. “Do you understand?”
Ando nods.
“Not even on the patio?” Ando pries mischievously.
David frowns.
“Not even on the patio,” our father clarifies without humor.
Ando nods again as he throws his small arms around Dad’s waist then Mom’s.
“Listen to your sister,” Mom states firmly, yet lovingly.
“I will,” my brother promises.
“Don’t worry so much,” I plead with a grin. “We are going to watch television and make snacks.”
Mom nods then turns to leave then turns back. She reminds me of a puppy chasing its tail. If she continues, I am sure she will become dizzy.
“Call us if—”
“I know… I know… ” I interrupt, rolling my eyes one last time.
🦉
An hour later, my brother and I are lounging on the sofa watching an Italian soap opera. Its characters are overly dramatic, but fun to watch. It reminds me of the American soap operas Grandpa Theo used to watch when he was alive. He would always make us popcorn while Ando and I sat beside him on the couch, looking at the actors doing weird things. It was fun.
Tonight, after gorging ourselves on homemade pork tacos that our mom made before they left for the opera, we decided to watch a local show instead of one on cable. Ando, who was eager to watch television, almost immediately fell asleep beside me with Alfredo tucked under his head.
“I’m not supposed to leave the house,” my little brother mumbles in his sleep as he rearranges himself on the cushions.
I remain quiet, hoping he will go back to sleep.
“They’re not here… ” he babbles and returns to his former position.
“Ando?” I whisper, trying to get him to wake, but his eyes remain closed.
“Ok… ” he finally says after several very long minutes.
“Ando,” I repeat, this time louder and he still does not respond, but then he does the strangest thing. He bolts up into a seated position, swings his short legs over the edge of the cushions and begins walking to the front door.
What the hell!
“Ando!” I cry and then command in my most parental tone. “Wake up!”
Seemingly lost in his own mind, my brother robotically unlocks the bolt, turns the knob, and pushes the ornately-carved barrier open with a smooth motion. Instantly, my eyes widen. Glancing around the living room, I search for my cell phone, but cannot remember where I had it last. In the few short seconds I pause, Ando is already down the street, barefoot and on a mission. No time to find the phone, I pull on my sneakers and race after his swiftly moving form.
Around the bend he goes with feet that seem to know the path to his destination, even though the rest of his body does not. Hurrying, I debate what exactly to do. Unable to keep pace, I find myself lumbering behind although still within seeing distance.
Scared beyond belief, I decide to fall back just a tad in case trouble arises, all the while willing my legs to go faster. As we continue out of the Belvedere of Tragara, he makes a left at the small grocery store at the corner of our street, and then continues up toward the rugged hills above the town. My palms immediately begin to sweat as I diligently follow his path.
Where is he going?
It is dark out here away from the lights of the villas and surrounding shopping areas. Overhead, gloomy rainclouds hide the semi-rounded moon; its dim rays unable to disperse the shadows that follow us along our trek.
How I wish that our parents had not gone out for the evening. For once, I would like to have a dull night of watching television and scarfing junk food.
🦉
After twenty or so minutes, Ando stops in the middle of the dusty, unpaved, tree-lined path high above the town of Capri and waits. Heaven help us if something evil jumps out of the bushes. Quickly, he races into the heavily wooded spot where the bushes are taller than me, definitely taller than him, and then, he is gone.
“Ando!” I shout not caring who or what hears. “Fernando, if you don’t answer me this instant—” I think for a second or two, “—I’m gonna kick your butt!”
Nothing.
It is only now that I realize the woods are thick here and the ground beneath me is covered with twigs, broken branches, and decaying leaves. All around, the heavy fragrance of wet bark and honeysuckle wreak havoc with my sense of smell, and I realize what a dangerous position we are in.
No scary Latin father.
No scarier Siren mother.
No terrifying Siren aunts.
Just us. Two untried baby-Sirens, alone in the woods.
“I’m not joking!” I shout again, slapping a mosquito that dares bite my arm while I am in panic-mode. “Answer me! Right now!”
Something scurries across my path causing me to scream.
“Ando!”
“Shh!” a silky voice admonishes instead, making me jump out of my skin.
Terrified beyond my wildest dreams, I raise my hands in front of my body like I am Bruce Lee in Return of the Dragon.
“Who are you?!” I growl, taking two steps back.
Several yards away, in the shadows, all I see is a short, plump figure cloaked by a dark hooded jacket. Man or woman, I cannot tell, and then slowly, it smiles at me and says:
“Come inside my dear. We have a lot to talk about.”
🦉
The vein in my right temple is pounding so loud that it drowns out the even louder palpitations of my heart. Even my palms betray me as they begin to perspire profusely, and if my feet had a mind of their own, I would be halfway home by now. Unfortunately, the rest of me—the stupid part—stands waiting for the next shoe to drop.
Apparently, Sirens are not the sharpest tools in the shed.
“Who are you?” I question again, trying to keep myself together, but failing miserably as the being’s delicate voice seeps into my cerebellum and starts to sedate my senses. “Where’s my brother?”
“Do not fret, my pet,” it says with a serendipitous drawl. “He is perfectly fine.”
I seriously doubt that!
“I swear to the gods, if you’ve harmed him in anyway—!”
Unable to control them, my hands clench into tight fists, ready to throw down if necessary.
“Come inside,” it requests sweetly. “Come inside where it is safe.”
Confused, I glance around the area.
“Come inside, where?” I snap, sweat dripping from my brow onto my shirt. “There’s only wo—“
As I stare into the darkness behind the being, the air begins to shimmer and bend. Then the soft breeze morphs into a blustery wind tunnel that almost lifts me off of the ground. As if it is alive, my wildly whipping hair assaults my unprotected eyes stinging them, and now in panic mode, I lash at the strands to keep them out of the way in order to keep my companion in view. However, as I continue to stare, a small building suddenly appears out of nowhere.
What the—
Cautiously, it steps back, motioning to the small door leading into the even smaller house. The rounded entrance reminds me of a Hobbit’s door. Remarkably, the structure itself is rather charming and quaint.
“Ando is safe,” it answers, the cloak still hiding the upper part of its face.
Feeling the need to deliver a warning to this potentially dangerous creature, I quickly think-up a lie.
“My parents will be home soon—”
“No, they will not,” it interrupts with an omniscient chuckle that further antagonizes my jagged nerves. “The opera does not finish until eleven.”
“How do you know that?” I ask, cocking my head to the side.
It laughs. This time the sound is light and airy like the clinking of champagne glasses on New Year’s Eve. If I was not so unnerved, it would have been the most pleasant sound I had ever heard, and being a Siren that says a lot.
“I have my ways,” it answers, motioning me inside.
Nervously, I wait as I signal for it to enter first, unwilling to turn my back on it. Suspiciously, I follow, my defense on high alert. If we were in the ocean, I would be extremely confident right now. I know that I could defend myself as well as Ando, but here, on land, I am not so sure, yet I decide to take my chances. Obviously, I have clearly got height and an age advantage over the much smaller entity and that makes me feel better. More reassured, I decide to bide my time until I form a more lucid plan of escape.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” it nonchalantly soothes. “No need to formulate plans to get away.”
My mouth gapes as it sighs.
“I would never harm you or your brother.”
Shocked at its reply to my unspoken words, my eyes instinctively narrow as I continue to study the covered figure.
“I don’t believe you,” I firmly condemn, but I can already feel my apprehension diminish even though I am trying to hold it in place.
“Selena,” it speaks, and the tone sounds so wonderful… so parental that I almost believe it. Almost. “Please, step inside. It is not safe out here.”
Steadying myself, I gulp down the extra-large lump in my throat.
Instinctively, I glance around the area hoping not to see anything out of the ordinary. However, one thing ensnares my attention: a lone dandelion; its soft fluffy seeds full and delicate as they cling to its base. As I watch, somehow now completely enthralled by the lovely weed that stands alone like a watchful sentinel guarding the unassuming cottage, a gust of wind races by causing all but six seeds to be blown away. Mesmerized, I stare as each individual seed drifts up and away, getting smaller and smaller with each passing second. Never do they get pulled back to Earth, but instead rise into the dark heavens. Bizarrely enough, the thought that they might never land disturbs me.
As usual, the hairs on my arms immediately stand up, but the stranger’s words bring me back to reality.
“What do you mean: ‘it’s not safe out here’?” I question, stepping closer to the cottage entrance.
Like a wise old owl surveying the woods for its dinner, it pauses. Expertly, it scans our surroundings and sighs deeply. I think I even hear the faintest melody in my head as I stand next to it.
“Amphitrite,” the ‘person’ whispers, and the tone makes me shiver.
“You know Amphitrite?” I gasp, feeling that lump returning as my breathing labors.
To my surprise, it nods briskly, but the cloak hiding its face remains in place.
“She and I go way, way back,” it admits in a perturbed voice that makes me calm a bit more. After all, the enemy of my enemy is my friend or so the saying goes. Hopefully, it is true.
“Lena?” I hear my brother’s voice calling from inside the cute cottage.
“Yes!” I answer, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. “It’s me! I’m here!”
“Please,” it pleads. “Come inside.”
Mom kisses his cheek before answering.
“You read my mind.”
Dad chuckles; eyes red-rimmed and puffy.
“Maybe I’m becoming a Siren too,” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood as he hands her a steamy mug of café con leche.
His sleep-deprived spouse gratefully accepts.
“Hungry?” he adds, too exhausted to construct complete sentences.
Mom nods enthusiastically.
“What are you in the mood for?” her husband manages a thin smile.
“Whatever is easy,” she coos, takes a big gulp of the hot brew and sighs.
Dad grabs the extra-large Teflon frying pan and turns it on low as he goes to the refrigerator for the carton of eggs and the container of butter. Next, he grabs the loaf of white bread from the bread box. He moves so confidently that it makes me giggle.
“Why are you giggling at me?” he lightheartedly scoffs as he blushes.
“I don’t know,” I fib, turning red too. I do not want to admit that I am happy to have him as my stepfather. I do not know what we would do without him.
“Stop looking at me,” he admonishes playfully, throwing the dishtowel at my head.
“Okay,” I laugh again.
“Come help your old man make some food,” he orders like a general.
Happily, I come to his aid, taking over the task of cracking several brown eggs with some salt and pepper, and a tablespoon of milk into one of the lovely cobalt-blue mixing bowls. David gets another pan to cook some bacon he found in the freezer. Quickly, he thaws the package in some water in the sink. Before long, the entire kitchen smells wonderful.
“I’m hungry,” Ando’s voice startles me as he enters the roomy kitchen, his teddy bear accompanying him.
“Good morning, little man,” his father greets first.
Thrilled to see her son alive and well, Mom walks to him and kisses his forehead making him smile. Not wanting to crowd him, I stand by the granite kitchen island waiting for the frying pan to heat up to scramble the eggs. I wink at him and he winks back.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Mom greets, kneeling to look directly in his eyes. “How did you sleep?”
“Okay,” he replies with a sleepy tone.
“Any more nightmares?” I add, hoping the answer is no.
Regrettably, he nods and tightens his grip on Alfredo the Bear.
“Daddy and Lena are making bacon, eggs and toast,” Mom informs with a genuine smile.
“Mmm,” he responds like his usual self.
Somehow, that is all that is needed to cheer us up.
🦉
“Get away from me!” my brother’s eardrum-piercing screams wake me from a sexy dream starring Andrew and me.
“Holy crap!” I cry out as I search for my robe and slippers.
This is the third night in a row that phantom dreams have haunted his thoughts. He always wakes in terror, but within seconds he forgets what the dreams are about. Mom and Dad have not left his side, hoping that their presence will put him at ease; unfortunately, it has not. In fact, I think they have made it worse.
“Baby?” Mom coddles softly, wiping the sweat from his brow. Dad sits beside her, holding his hand, whispering caring words in Spanish.
I look at the three and turn silently to go back to my room, feeling utterly useless.
🦉
Why are days only twenty-four hours long? There should be some way to add a few more hours to the Earthly time cycle. In the near future, I will find a way to do that. Maybe one day I will meet Gaia, Goddess of the Earth, and suggest doing just that.
Yeah! Sure! That’s going to happen!
Last night, I woke to strange clunky footsteps in the hallway. Next, David’s low whispers could be heard, but not understood. I swear I even heard Ando’s small voice as well; however, when I rolled out of bed to check, the hallway was empty.
When I finally fell back asleep, I kept tossing and turning trying to get comfortable. Unfortunately, try as I might, I was the young lady whose noble identity is proven through a test of her physical sensitivity like in Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tale The Princess and the Pea.
Tired and irritable, I tumble out of bed this morning and stumble to the washroom in a zombie-like state where I fumble into my robe. Now, all I want to do is go right back to bed, but instead I make my way to the kitchen.
“How’s Ando today?” I ask, needing better news.
“He only woke once last night,” David informs with a tired yawn.
“That’s good,” I respond, knowing that my parents and brother have not had a good night’s rest for almost a week.
Mom and Dad glance at each other. Their eyes narrow like they are silently communicating. Dad growls and gets up to refill his coffee cup. My mother simply appears overwhelmed.
“What’s wrong?” I probe, wondering why they are keeping me out of the loop.
Silence.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I question again.
This time my stepdad speaks first.
“He’s been sleepwalking,” he reveals with a loud exhale.
The hairs on my arms immediately stand on end and my stomach lurches.
“Ando’s never sleepwalked,” I state, scratching my head.
“We know,” they answer in unison.
This is not good!
“Good morning, everybody,” my brother greets as he rounds the corner with Alfredo in tow.
“Hey, buddy!” Dad responds happily, his face instantly brightening at the sight of the half-awake six-year-old with the sleep-tousled hair and the droopy expression.
“Good morning, baby,” Mom smiles too, her eyes crinkling on the sides due to her lack of slumber. “How are you feeling today?”
“I’m okay,” Ando yawns as he informs us.
Sleepily, he looks down at his favorite teddy.
“Alfredo is a little bit tired, but he wants breakfast,” my sibling replies as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes.
At my brother’s request, Dad jumps up.
“Does Alfredo want some pancakes?” our father gleams with a wink.
Ando giggles.
“Pancakes with blueberries?” my brother adds.
“Coming right up, son,” Dad chuckles as he goes to the fridge to retrieve the pint of blueberries.
🦉
Needing a break and a well-deserved evening out, my parents gather the last of their belongings. Mom has reluctantly agreed to go on a date night due to some heavy negotiating on Dad’s part. I think we all need a night of boring and peaceful.
“Are you sure you’ll be alright with your brother tonight?” Dad asks as he helps our mother into her black cardigan.
Rolling my eyes, I answer.
“We’ll be fine,” I state with confidence. “I promise.”
“If you need anything… anything at all,” Mom interjects. “Just call us.”
“I will,” I grin at her protective nature.
“Ando?” our father says, getting my brother’s undivided attention.
“Yes, Daddy?” Ando replies as he smiles, showing the gap where he recently lost a tooth while biting into a rather large, juicy apple.
“Do not leave the house under any circumstance,” Dad orders. “Do you understand?”
Ando nods.
“Not even on the patio?” Ando pries mischievously.
David frowns.
“Not even on the patio,” our father clarifies without humor.
Ando nods again as he throws his small arms around Dad’s waist then Mom’s.
“Listen to your sister,” Mom states firmly, yet lovingly.
“I will,” my brother promises.
“Don’t worry so much,” I plead with a grin. “We are going to watch television and make snacks.”
Mom nods then turns to leave then turns back. She reminds me of a puppy chasing its tail. If she continues, I am sure she will become dizzy.
“Call us if—”
“I know… I know… ” I interrupt, rolling my eyes one last time.
🦉
An hour later, my brother and I are lounging on the sofa watching an Italian soap opera. Its characters are overly dramatic, but fun to watch. It reminds me of the American soap operas Grandpa Theo used to watch when he was alive. He would always make us popcorn while Ando and I sat beside him on the couch, looking at the actors doing weird things. It was fun.
Tonight, after gorging ourselves on homemade pork tacos that our mom made before they left for the opera, we decided to watch a local show instead of one on cable. Ando, who was eager to watch television, almost immediately fell asleep beside me with Alfredo tucked under his head.
“I’m not supposed to leave the house,” my little brother mumbles in his sleep as he rearranges himself on the cushions.
I remain quiet, hoping he will go back to sleep.
“They’re not here… ” he babbles and returns to his former position.
“Ando?” I whisper, trying to get him to wake, but his eyes remain closed.
“Ok… ” he finally says after several very long minutes.
“Ando,” I repeat, this time louder and he still does not respond, but then he does the strangest thing. He bolts up into a seated position, swings his short legs over the edge of the cushions and begins walking to the front door.
What the hell!
“Ando!” I cry and then command in my most parental tone. “Wake up!”
Seemingly lost in his own mind, my brother robotically unlocks the bolt, turns the knob, and pushes the ornately-carved barrier open with a smooth motion. Instantly, my eyes widen. Glancing around the living room, I search for my cell phone, but cannot remember where I had it last. In the few short seconds I pause, Ando is already down the street, barefoot and on a mission. No time to find the phone, I pull on my sneakers and race after his swiftly moving form.
Around the bend he goes with feet that seem to know the path to his destination, even though the rest of his body does not. Hurrying, I debate what exactly to do. Unable to keep pace, I find myself lumbering behind although still within seeing distance.
Scared beyond belief, I decide to fall back just a tad in case trouble arises, all the while willing my legs to go faster. As we continue out of the Belvedere of Tragara, he makes a left at the small grocery store at the corner of our street, and then continues up toward the rugged hills above the town. My palms immediately begin to sweat as I diligently follow his path.
Where is he going?
It is dark out here away from the lights of the villas and surrounding shopping areas. Overhead, gloomy rainclouds hide the semi-rounded moon; its dim rays unable to disperse the shadows that follow us along our trek.
How I wish that our parents had not gone out for the evening. For once, I would like to have a dull night of watching television and scarfing junk food.
🦉
After twenty or so minutes, Ando stops in the middle of the dusty, unpaved, tree-lined path high above the town of Capri and waits. Heaven help us if something evil jumps out of the bushes. Quickly, he races into the heavily wooded spot where the bushes are taller than me, definitely taller than him, and then, he is gone.
“Ando!” I shout not caring who or what hears. “Fernando, if you don’t answer me this instant—” I think for a second or two, “—I’m gonna kick your butt!”
Nothing.
It is only now that I realize the woods are thick here and the ground beneath me is covered with twigs, broken branches, and decaying leaves. All around, the heavy fragrance of wet bark and honeysuckle wreak havoc with my sense of smell, and I realize what a dangerous position we are in.
No scary Latin father.
No scarier Siren mother.
No terrifying Siren aunts.
Just us. Two untried baby-Sirens, alone in the woods.
“I’m not joking!” I shout again, slapping a mosquito that dares bite my arm while I am in panic-mode. “Answer me! Right now!”
Something scurries across my path causing me to scream.
“Ando!”
“Shh!” a silky voice admonishes instead, making me jump out of my skin.
Terrified beyond my wildest dreams, I raise my hands in front of my body like I am Bruce Lee in Return of the Dragon.
“Who are you?!” I growl, taking two steps back.
Several yards away, in the shadows, all I see is a short, plump figure cloaked by a dark hooded jacket. Man or woman, I cannot tell, and then slowly, it smiles at me and says:
“Come inside my dear. We have a lot to talk about.”
🦉
The vein in my right temple is pounding so loud that it drowns out the even louder palpitations of my heart. Even my palms betray me as they begin to perspire profusely, and if my feet had a mind of their own, I would be halfway home by now. Unfortunately, the rest of me—the stupid part—stands waiting for the next shoe to drop.
Apparently, Sirens are not the sharpest tools in the shed.
“Who are you?” I question again, trying to keep myself together, but failing miserably as the being’s delicate voice seeps into my cerebellum and starts to sedate my senses. “Where’s my brother?”
“Do not fret, my pet,” it says with a serendipitous drawl. “He is perfectly fine.”
I seriously doubt that!
“I swear to the gods, if you’ve harmed him in anyway—!”
Unable to control them, my hands clench into tight fists, ready to throw down if necessary.
“Come inside,” it requests sweetly. “Come inside where it is safe.”
Confused, I glance around the area.
“Come inside, where?” I snap, sweat dripping from my brow onto my shirt. “There’s only wo—“
As I stare into the darkness behind the being, the air begins to shimmer and bend. Then the soft breeze morphs into a blustery wind tunnel that almost lifts me off of the ground. As if it is alive, my wildly whipping hair assaults my unprotected eyes stinging them, and now in panic mode, I lash at the strands to keep them out of the way in order to keep my companion in view. However, as I continue to stare, a small building suddenly appears out of nowhere.
What the—
Cautiously, it steps back, motioning to the small door leading into the even smaller house. The rounded entrance reminds me of a Hobbit’s door. Remarkably, the structure itself is rather charming and quaint.
“Ando is safe,” it answers, the cloak still hiding the upper part of its face.
Feeling the need to deliver a warning to this potentially dangerous creature, I quickly think-up a lie.
“My parents will be home soon—”
“No, they will not,” it interrupts with an omniscient chuckle that further antagonizes my jagged nerves. “The opera does not finish until eleven.”
“How do you know that?” I ask, cocking my head to the side.
It laughs. This time the sound is light and airy like the clinking of champagne glasses on New Year’s Eve. If I was not so unnerved, it would have been the most pleasant sound I had ever heard, and being a Siren that says a lot.
“I have my ways,” it answers, motioning me inside.
Nervously, I wait as I signal for it to enter first, unwilling to turn my back on it. Suspiciously, I follow, my defense on high alert. If we were in the ocean, I would be extremely confident right now. I know that I could defend myself as well as Ando, but here, on land, I am not so sure, yet I decide to take my chances. Obviously, I have clearly got height and an age advantage over the much smaller entity and that makes me feel better. More reassured, I decide to bide my time until I form a more lucid plan of escape.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” it nonchalantly soothes. “No need to formulate plans to get away.”
My mouth gapes as it sighs.
“I would never harm you or your brother.”
Shocked at its reply to my unspoken words, my eyes instinctively narrow as I continue to study the covered figure.
“I don’t believe you,” I firmly condemn, but I can already feel my apprehension diminish even though I am trying to hold it in place.
“Selena,” it speaks, and the tone sounds so wonderful… so parental that I almost believe it. Almost. “Please, step inside. It is not safe out here.”
Steadying myself, I gulp down the extra-large lump in my throat.
Instinctively, I glance around the area hoping not to see anything out of the ordinary. However, one thing ensnares my attention: a lone dandelion; its soft fluffy seeds full and delicate as they cling to its base. As I watch, somehow now completely enthralled by the lovely weed that stands alone like a watchful sentinel guarding the unassuming cottage, a gust of wind races by causing all but six seeds to be blown away. Mesmerized, I stare as each individual seed drifts up and away, getting smaller and smaller with each passing second. Never do they get pulled back to Earth, but instead rise into the dark heavens. Bizarrely enough, the thought that they might never land disturbs me.
As usual, the hairs on my arms immediately stand up, but the stranger’s words bring me back to reality.
“What do you mean: ‘it’s not safe out here’?” I question, stepping closer to the cottage entrance.
Like a wise old owl surveying the woods for its dinner, it pauses. Expertly, it scans our surroundings and sighs deeply. I think I even hear the faintest melody in my head as I stand next to it.
“Amphitrite,” the ‘person’ whispers, and the tone makes me shiver.
“You know Amphitrite?” I gasp, feeling that lump returning as my breathing labors.
To my surprise, it nods briskly, but the cloak hiding its face remains in place.
“She and I go way, way back,” it admits in a perturbed voice that makes me calm a bit more. After all, the enemy of my enemy is my friend or so the saying goes. Hopefully, it is true.
“Lena?” I hear my brother’s voice calling from inside the cute cottage.
“Yes!” I answer, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. “It’s me! I’m here!”
“Please,” it pleads. “Come inside.”
