STATEMENT OF: [Harold Flynn]
STATEMENT GIVEN: [4/4/2026] (Original statement given on an unknown date in 2013.)
REGARDING: [his escape from an island inhabited by "sirens".]
You never expect these things to happen. One minute, you're boarding a ship to go haul crates of furniture or what have you, the next you're trying not to vomit so the things eating your friend don't notice you're there.
It started just like you'd expect. A storm at sea made us lose our direction, we drifted along just trying not to die until our ship hit the side of some island. The storm cleared, and there were people calling up at us from the shore.
I leaned over the railing to get a look, and there were these two gorgeous women waving to get our attention. They asked if all of us were alright. Thankfully, most of us were perfectly fine.
The ladies offered to let us rest in their village for a bit until we could get our bearings and hopefully find our way back to where we were supposed to go. The captain didn't seem to be in any rush to leave, so we docked and were shown around.
The village itself was tiny, and the island itself wasn't that much bigger. Most of it was just tropics, jungle and stuff. My guess is they kept it natural on purpose. That, or they just couldn't get heavy machinery all the way out here to bulldoze it all down.
Every single one of these women were just absolutely breathtaking. Weirdly similar in appearance though. Maybe the gene pool isn't that big in such a small place... But if you'd asked me to picture the perfect female face, about half of them would probably fit the description. With a little variation, obviously, but still. And they all spoke with this sort of, transatlantic mixed with a movie pirate's accent. It also had a bit of a trilling quality to it? Like, if you were trying to imitate a dolphin or just make a bunch of bubbles underwater.
When we found out they had a brothel— like a real, genuine brothel with courtesans and fancy furniture and stuff, most of the other guys were already handing over their wallets. Not every day you can go and do stuff like that, I guess.
...I wasn't really interested in the ladies, though. Though they tended to stick to manual labor to keep the village running while the rest "entertained" the crew, there were a few people who looked like they might be men, and I was more interested in getting their attention.
A couple days had gone by. Everyone was pretty much content to stay put on the island for the time being, and any mention of when we'd be setting sail again was dismissed with "in due time," and a hand waving them away. Honestly, I did most of the asking. The local guys weren't too interested in my advances. Apparently that "wasn't their job," which, fair. But it still left me much less enthusiastic to extend our stay.
After a while, I started to notice that there were less and less of us as the weeks went on, but there was always some nighttime festival with music and stuff following any time it got brought up, and it got dropped for the next few days like the topic was never discussed at all.
I think I remember listening to the music a couple times at first, but despite how... frankly amazing the vocals were, I eventually found out that the men chopped wood in the more jungle-y, forest area around that time and decided I'd rather hang out over there. Don't judge me for that, the others from the crew were acting way worse, and it ended up saving my life, anyway.
Speaking of, eventually I actually caught the attention of one of the locals. Tall, redhead, really skinny but pretty muscular from his manual labor. His name was "Amber," I think? Kinda girly, but, y'know. I thought it was cute. Matched the hair.
I didn't mind not being able to leave so much now that I had something- or, someone to occupy my time. We snuck away from everyone else when we were able and just had our little rendezvous, and I wasn't spending much time in the main village area anymore.
I didn't notice just how small the crew had gotten till I woke up one day and counted only 5 of us.
That was the moment when I decided to investigate. I'd hang around the village more often, pretend to play along with everything. The locals got pushy when I wouldn't come to the festival at night, so I started melting candles and shoving the wax in my ears like in The Odyssey to avoid suspicion. Being able to survey everything with a clear head let me see that the singing was absolutely doing something to our heads when we listened to it. Everyone became so complacent, like cattle. Even I could tell them what to do.
I had to juggle keeping Amber incautious with spying on everyone. There were four, then three, then two. I knew I'd be on the chopping block soon, but I had to see for myself what they were doing to us.
I followed a group of them down the hall in the brothel, under the guise of heading to the bathroom at first until I could sneak away and tail them at a distance. They ducked out of a door in the very back of the building, to a beach area, where they all stepped into the water. I watched through a crack in the door as one of the ladies sang while the other snuck up from behind. Both of their bodies were shifting and morphing grotesquely as their skin turned to scales, their legs shrunk and their tailbones extended to eel-like appendages to take their place. When the second woman attacked... she coiled around him and bit down on his neck, and I didn't see the dreamy look leave his eyes even once. The singer just got closer so the words would go right into his ear. And then... she used her hardened, sharpened talons to cut into his skin.
I only watched the butchering process for a few seconds before I slipped away, as quietly but as quickly as I could.
I had to check myself in a mirror and make sure I could look like everything was fine when I came back, so I could make my way to where the ship was still docked.
I was trying to free the lifeboat when a soft, accented voice stopped me in my tracks. A younger woman, probably freshly 18 but still wearing the fancy adornments of the brothel was standing there with a sweet look on her face.
I pointed the pocket knife I had on hand at her. She acted surprised. Tried to get me to come back with her. I told her to fuck off.
I climbed into the boat, still pointing the knife, though my hand had started to shake. Through my trembling voice, I told her that she and everyone else on that godforsaken island were sick, terrible monsters that all deserved to rot in hell, if they even had souls in the first place. I watched her eyes widen in horror as I cursed her entire bloodline and that whole fucking nightmare resort.
I guess I must have shocked her so much with my vulgarity, or something, because she didn't chase after me as I paddled away. In fact, I watched her turn around and trudge back to the village, near-catatonic instead of even stepping foot or... horrible, shark-fin into the water.
After a week with pretty much no rations or water, another ship found me and took me back to London. They assumed I was delirious when I told them what happened to me, so, that's why when I heard about this institute, I had to come here. Someone needs a damn record of what really happened there. It wasn't just the storm.
ADDITIONAL INFORMATION: Follow-up from the original statement giver won't be possible, as he died from a urinary tract infection left untreated. However, some other individuals connected to this statement may be contacted, though what information they are willing to share may be limited.
[STATEMENT RECEIVED. BEGIN REVIEW.]
REVIEWED BY [ADMIN:J] ON [6/4/2026]
Well, adding Sirens onto the long checklist of meant-to-be mythology turned reality was not expected. However, after learning about vampires I always wondered what else was real. What other bump in the night was in reality an avatar of fear. Yet, I'm not sure which they align with. I want to say the Hunt-- waiting for prey to show up wrecked on your grounds and one by one picking off the poor bastards who landed there.
Who knew that Greek mythology could one day save your life. I would say Harold was quite lucky in having actually read The Odyssey. Certainly wasn't as lucky in the end. Obviously, it's a bit difficult to find what island the crew could have ended up in. There were a plethora of ships that left from 2012-2013 carrying the same exact cargo. Not to mention, they ended up stranding themselves.
However, I was actually able to find something on this specific statement. A news article posted around mid 2013 about a man who had been stranded at sea. The same name, and same time frame. The man had been recorded as talking about his crew members being lost to the aforementioned sirens. No one believed him. He was meant to be taken to the hospital to be checked as far as the article states. I assume he was either clear at the time of the statement, or the hospital overlooked it. At least he got the statement out, since he was so desperate to do so.
[FINAL REGARDS]
Harold Flynn is dead, and alongside him lies most leads. I am to believe that it's possible to contact others. Except, this statement is now thirteen years old. I can't quite waste time on digging up records of crews that have inevitably changed hundreds of times on not just his ship, but the one who rescued him.
I'm not sure the people who are sharing these older statements understand that without listing names or actual additional information makes it meaningless to do so. The person who submitted it may as well left it at Harold Flynn being dead. I have enough on my plate as is and I certainly don't plan on following up with the sirens.
[STATEMENT COMPLETE. END REVIEW.]
