The voice drifts over the water, raising and falling with the rhythm of the waves.
How beautiful, you think. You've never heard anything quite like it.
Then, your reason kicks in and you think, what is a woman doing out here?
All there is is water, the endless sea stretching for miles and miles. There is no other ship in sight. It's too far away to come from yours.
The voice rises up again, soft and wonderful, the sound cradling you to the waves lapping at the wood below.
You close your eyes, humm along.
Her voice forms the images of coral reefs, of ships setting sail for unknown regions, of brave sailors full of thirst for adventure and knowledge, confident.
You smile. You remember the same images, only a week ago. And so far you've been lucky; the sails are billowing in the wind, carrying you steadily towards your destination.
You lean on the rail, peering down at the dark blue sea. It's as beautiful as always, deep and unknown, and yet so comforting. You know the sea like an old friend, or maybe a lover. A dangerous lover, you know, but a lover regardless.
You lift a lazy hand to wave the blue ocean, and a hand appears to wave back.
The hand glitters from the water. The fingers are long and slim, elegant but strong. A lady's hand. The skin glitters from the water and the sun, and the skin looks soft.
The voice is stronger. It's sweet sound come from down there, from between the waves. It is the song of the ocean herself.
A face rises between the soft lapping waves. It's the face of a woman, a smile on her lips and the deep green and blue of the ocean twinkling in her eyes as she sings and her hair moves softly with the current.
It is a friendly smile.
She laughs, barely pausing her song and beckons you down to her.
You climb down the Jacob's ladder, never once looking away from those beautiful, beautiful eyes. Those eyes that hold the sea. A lover. Your love.
Her smile grows wider with delight, and you reach out to meet her hand. It is as soft as you imagined and as delicate as it looks, but there is a surprising strength behind it.
She laughs again, the sound like those of waves breaking against the ship's bow, of fish frolicking in the waves.
She pulls you along into the embrace of the sea, and you don't resist.
You have barely let go of the ladder that she stops singing.
You furrow your brow. You barely have time to breathe in as her grip, suddenly much stronger and almost painful yanks you beneath the surface. The water closes around you, salt stinging in your eyes.
She begins to sing anew, undeterred by the water engufing her, too. Only with a moment of delay do you notice that she isn't moving her lips at all. Her mouth is widened slightly in a grin, revealing rows of tiny, jagged teeth.
You do all you can not to waste any of your precious air, but you try to pull away.
Her grip is hard and unrelenting, her skin rough with scales. Nigh invisible skin spans between her fingers - thin, but strong. Strong enough to hold you.
There are slits to the side of her throat, vibrating softly with every breath she takes, every word coming from her. You don't know the words, but you understand what she is singing. She sings of the sea, of raging storms and drowning sailors. She sings of the cold, wet embrace of death and darkness.
You struggle more. You cannot hold your breath much longer. You need to get back to the surface, but as you look up, the light is already far away, and you are descending.
You look back at her. She is still smiling. There is an emptiness beyond her, reflected in her pupilless eyes. This empty, lonely sea is the one that will devour you.
You know, in that moment, that you will not escape her.
It does not stop you from fighting, squiriming in her grip. She smiles, bares her teeth, flutters her eyes at you. Her nails dig into your skin. Her scales glitter in the faint light from so far above. Her hair isn't moving with the currents but on its own accord, like a living thing. Her fish tail is strong, every flap sending you down further.
Come, my love, she sings, in a voice that is rough with salt water and yet ethereal, carrying through the water as easily as your voice carries in air.
Then both of her hands close around your jaw. Her fingers are long and thin and clammy and force your mouth open like they're made of steel. You can feel the last of your air escaping.
You cannot hold this much longer.
You meet her eyes. You know your panic is showing on your face, despair in your own eyes. Her show the lonely, dark blue of the sea around you, empty of emotion.
You are alone. She is not human, not even slightly.
You know there is no escape. You will join the other skeletons at the bottom of the ocean soon enough.
The icy salt water stings sharply at your throat when you inhale, filling your lungs.
You kick at the water with desperation, movements uncontrolled.
Come, my love, she hisses, grinning with all those teeth, her blank eyes staring hungrily, her nails digging into your cheeks. Her scales are glittering just like the sun on the waves above.
The sea is a lover, you think. This monster is a lover, just the same. Beautiful at first glance, easy to fall in love with. Dangerous and deadly just beneath the surface.
You love her anyway. You always have.
The last thing you know is a cold, too big jaw and rough, scaly skin pressing up against your mouth. Soft hair that-is-not-hair drifts around you, hiding the emptiness. Too many, too small, too sharp teeth scrape against yours as she pulls you into one last, passionate kiss.
You can feel ice creeping through your limbs, your vision going black.
Come, my love, she sings, and you hear both the hiss and the beautiful song at once. She is both. She is the sea.
I'm coming.
You inhale, too tired for desparation, and the salt water is like oxygen in your lungs.
The sea is lover. Dangerous, deadly, beautiful. Sometimes, the love goes both ways.
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ix. tiny god
you're a fall person, in complexion and preference. the cool weather suits you, the deep warm colors make you look flush and joyous, and the crunch of leaves under your feet remind you where you're from.
in a few months, you'll get lost in the woods with your best friends. a few months ago, your brother got lost in the same woods. both moments aren't ones to consider. focus on now: you're well-lit by autumn. the sun shines on you, kisses your cheeks and makes you a happy color. your eyes shine like they've got gold dust in them. your heart beats happy, even in the rain.
in a cold december night, you'll see god. in the snow and the frozen air and the way you press yourself into the very moment because it's that perfect. fall ends in coldness and you find god where it's frozen and that probably says something about how you think about love.
but right now, it's fall, and the wind ruffles your hair affectionately. this is the time you belong to.
prompt from @nosebleedclub's october list
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i. into my arms
you've always believed that love is less of an art and more of a science. you have to believe that. because if it's an art maybe you just don't have an eye for beauty.
sometimes when your mother holds you, she whispers, my mother never did this for me. you've wondered if you're supposed to be grateful for this. if you're supposed to thank her.
he asks you, while you're dancing, do you trust me? you think about his hand on your back and say yes. but you don't really have to think. you trust him in the way you fit together. he knows this.
you like to fall asleep on his chest. one arm around you, your head over his heart. it feels like safety. it feels like home. it feels like being loved.
as a child, you climbed up into the branches of trees. you were never good at monkey bars or the rock wall in the gym, but you scramble up anything with dirt on it as easy as breathing. there's something about being up high that means being safe.
driving home, the car stops suddenly, skidding over ice. your friend's mother throws her arm in front of you. they buy you dinner and apologize to your parents, for getting you home late.
it's easier to let in than be let in. it's easier to hold someone than be held. it's easier to love than be loved.
prompt from @nosebleedclub, oct. 1
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