This one’s a little darker than my usual. Something I wrote from the perspective one of the characters in my stories. Note: Literal Siren

Honey sweet and sliding scales, chains of music in my mind.
No salty breath or flashing tails just courtesy and wine.
Every word a melody, every smile a song.
A whispered word drowning me, removed all sense of wrong.

A noble night still must give way, to the persistent, subtle voice,
Each thought once more stripped away, until nothing’s left of choice.
Three days of hell in heaven’s robes, a cage of stolen power.
Each resistance: another probe, leading to her bower.

A death made sweeter with a touch, the body of her song
Will and virtue shield not much, and honor forced to pawn.
Yet still there held a core of might, that held until the dawn,
Though in the slowness of the night, the slow death wandered on.

When the dawning came once more, mind and will were slaves
And body followed through the door, to the waiting waves.
But even there at bleakest end, I was not alone.
A brother rode to defend, and found me in her home.

My power raised to her defense, though I would not strike him down,
His magic shattered her pretense, and our battle raged around.
Her patience thinned and her voice rang out, a single fateful cry:
Kill your brother, the command sang out, and I prepared to die.

My staff slid from my trembling hand, I could not obey.
And waited for death’s blow to land, and could not look away.
My brother reeled, but did not fall, not even to that voice,
And drove his sword in fury’s call, through the heart that stole my choice.

He wrapped me in my cloak and his, and left her cold and dead
And helped me to my feet again, when he had claimed her head.
Though clouded thoughts hung heavily in all my weary heart
A brother’s love had rescued me from the Siren’s art.

Siren’s Call copyright © Heather Strickler 2025 all rights reserved