My ✨ post-apocalyptic Lesbian Cowgirl Mailman choose-your-own adventure✨ has just updated for the last time! Read it here for as low as $2/month on my Patreon or here for free on ao3! Here is a guide to get you started, the summaries of each part of the story thus far, the complete collected text, and FAQ, all in one place. There is also a discord where Pony Express readers from all across god's green internet can gather, here!
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✨ Excerpt below the cut.
Venus looked her over and shook her head. “Am I dreaming?” she asked, her voice quiet.
“I don’t think so,” Lou said, but she’d been wrong before. If they were in Venus’s dream, Lou hoped that she’d wake up soon.
“I dreamed about you. All the time,” Venus said. Lou pulled her aching knees up so that Venus could sit back on the couch. “The longer it’d been, the worse they got. At first, somebody would come back from the wastes with a single little red boot, or a checked bra, or a little bitty calf bone that I just knew was yours.”
She stared up into space as she spoke, and shuddered. Lou drew the blanket up under her armpits. It felt strange to be inside, especially in such a heavily decorated space, after being away for so long. The walls loomed on either side of them and kept the air still. The curtains didn’t so much as twitch.
“Then, you started coming back, but you weren’t right. You’d show up at my door just after sunset, your hat pulled low over your eyes. And I could never get you to smile, even to talk. You would be pale and languid and gaunt, and then I’d notice that you wouldn’t come inside, and you had blood around your mouth and under your nails, or you’d have no feet, or you’d just be gone again when I turned back, and I wouldn’t know if I was dreaming or not.”
Lou looked down at her bloody-looking fingertips.
“But even in my worst dreams,” Venus said, looking over her shoulder at her, “you never once looked this bad, baby.”
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Folklore, magic, monsters of all shapes and sizes: they're all real, and they want to kill you.
Lisa Sato thought she had nothing left to lose after the death of her girlfriend. She's proven wrong when her perfectly normal life in New York City is burned to the ground by a demon hell-bent on devouring her. She only barely survives thanks to the rescue of a team of superheroes, strangely reminiscent of Power Rangers and led by her very own mother. To protect her, Lisa must once again move away from the people and places she knows. Her mother brings her this time to the small town of Sleepy Hollow.
The small town of Sleepy Hollow, as it turns out, has a secret. Sophie Romano has lived there all her life, and she's become an expert at denying that secret. So what if there's a black-ops military base? So what if strange creatures are seen in the night? Sophie has more important things to focus on: submitting her college applications, trying to figure out why she's suddenly seeing the ghost of her long-dead girlfriend, and of course awkwardly flirting with the beautiful new girl at school, Lisa.
As Lisa and Sophie navigate their quickly growing feelings for one another, they'll learn that trying to separate their high school social life from the deadly world of monsters and magic could lead to the loss of the last things that they still hold dear.
Monsters & Magic is an urban-fantasy sapphic romance. A horror novel pretending to be a YA. It centers on trauma, how our loved ones heal us, and how viciously killing a monster can be surprisingly cathartic.
One thing I’ve noticed about a lot of feminist or sapphic or whatever books and litfic is so many authors cannot seem to break male attraction away from the female experience and cannot break same sex attraction away from feminism so they inevitably just end up linking the two in a way I’m frankly tired of reading about because it always ends up involving the men in some weird philosophical way into how the women interact with each other. It’s something I do rarely if ever see happen in gay male lit fic.
Same sex attraction is painted as a form of liberation from men and so many of the love interests are depicted as the sapphic version of the manic pixie dream girl and by sleeping with her the main character is supposed to be like enlighten from the patriarchy or whatever. It’s such a tiresome concept.
I feel like you can explore these themes in a way that doesn’t inherently centre men and attraction to them but so few seem to be doing that at all which is really frustrating to read as a lesbian.
you're halfway sprawled on her lap as she leans into you so hard that you're holding onto her shoulders to make sure you don't fall back. her long, slender hands cover your body in soft caresses— keeping the unclothed, breezy skin warm despite her hands being cold.
"hm come closer, baby" she mumbles against your skin and in the haze of the heated kiss you wonder how that's humanly possible with your bodies already pressed and molded into each other but as you tilt your head to feel her kisses deeper, you feel a soft tug on your hair, then a stroke, then another.
it goes on even as her tongue hugs yours. then her hands trail to the ends of your hair, twirling and tugging in such fascination that you'd think her hands think differently from her lips. a whimper— "mmh", a groan and a gentle grasp of the back of your scalp in her palms, fingers caressing circles and eventually threading through the strands, so soft it's unbelievable they're the same loving hands that pull on them when your head falls into the pillows from dizzying pleasure.
and you remember they're the ones you hold when you're tired, when you're scared, happy, cold, sleepy, when you're her's and she's yours.
What The Water Gave Me - Pirate! Michaela x Siren! Francesca
↪ part two
edited; 4.7k words, part one
pairing: Michaela Sterling x Francesca Bridgerton
tags: bridgerton au; pirate x siren; wlw; non magical sirens;
summary: First Mate Michaela Stirling survives an impossible shipwreck and washes up on one of the nameless islands on the pacific. She's not alone; her only companion being a creature who's taken an interest in her, from the moment she went overboard.
When you board your first pirate ship, your captain warns you of everything that can go wrong. That being the many storms you sail through, a fellow sailor with ulterior motives, or the many unknowns of the ocean. Either way, when you board your first ship, you were signing your life away to the possibility of endless adventure.
Or the possibility of being taken by the ocean. Make peace with it, or perish.
So, when First Mate Michaela Stirling went overboard one confusing night, she could only praise herself for dying a great death.
It all started when Ol’ Joe the Cook stumbled out to the deck, eyes locked on the ocean as he walked like the deck stretched for miles. His face was slack, movement jerky, eyes seeing things no one else could. A man in a trance.
Everyone knew Ol’ Joe to be missing a screw or two up there, so the pirates were barely shaken when he stood by the railing, and moments later was swallowed by the dark water, the only remains of this being the loud splash that echoed across the empty sea.
The crew wasn’t moved, not when it was common for pirates to throw themselves overboard. Some would take a dip in the sea waters; others did it as a parting.
It was only when McGee followed, did everyone’s guard go up, all rushing to the railing to see what was going on. Murmurs passed between them, confusion evident within the group.
They figured something was up when O’Malley jumped.
Then Jefferson.
McIntyre.
Smith.
One by one her crew abandoned their posts, faces as slack as Ol’ Joe, scurrying for the ocean.
Michaela fought her way to the main deck, her voice sharp over the chaos, ordering the men still in their right minds to grab the others, to tie them down.
It was like trying to hold back a tide, the madness was too contagious.
She stood near the helm, her monocular telescope in hand, searching for men when she heard it.
It was a soft hum. A melody that echoed in all directions of the seabed. She’d almost missed it, the head that bobbed out of the water. She was certain that the creature had been looking at her, if she could see anything in this dead of night.
“Siren!” She yelled, moving as far from the deck as possible. Her hands came up, tucked tightly over her ears and she went into action, using her body to bounce and trip the sailors making their way off the ship.
With her ears covered, she couldn’t hear how much louder the siren’s song had gotten and how much madder it made the sailors who hadn’t received the warning. Before she could react, a large body crashed into hers, and for a moment, she was airborne, face to face with the dark ocean, before being swallowed up by it.
She fought her up, taking a deep breath when she surfaced. She whipped around, searching for the creature, praying it wasn’t anywhere near her. All she saw was her ship, and relentless figures pitching themselves from its decks. None broke the surface. She could only watch helplessly as her men vanished into the abyss.
She had started swimming, edging towards the ship as fast as she could when her foot caught something that dragged her underwater. She yelped, sucking in as much air as she could, squeezing her eyes shut. Kicking wildly, she drew a knife—always kept strapped to her thigh—and slashed blindly at her attacker.
A screech tore through the water, a sound that vibrated in her bones. Instead of releasing her, the creature wrenched her hand away from her weapon, in turn twisting her ankle with a sickening pop.
A sharp, blinding pain shot up her leg, up her spine, drawing a gasp that was her last breath of air. Bubbles streamed from her lips as the darkness closed in.
‘To living a great life, and dying a not-so-great death’, she thought, as consciousness slipped away like water through her fingers.
First Mate Michaela Stirling washed up on the sands of a nameless island in the pacific. She laid face down on the beach, her body twisted awkwardly, as though she’d been flung out of the ocean like a rag doll. Her hair, once pinned into an updo style, now stuck to her face in a tangled mess, the only thing protecting her from sunburn.
She was not alone.
A few meters from shore, a creature swam in the shallows.
Watching.
The same creature the sailor had seen the previous night, and maybe the one who dragged her down.
It curiously swam up and away from the island. Curious about the lady on the beach, but still cautious enough to know how dangerous those land-dwellers were.
She’d been warned many times to steer as far as possible from them, especially when they travelled on those big water houses of their. Only intervene when they sailed too close to their waters.
But she was too curious. She had to know. She had to see them for herself, see what made these creatures dangerous. It would be quick, one glance and she’d swim back to the safety of the deep.
In her defence, she always visited the island, no one ever came here so, she was innocent.
So she swam closer, keeping herself submerged in water. From above, she would look like a giant snake slithering over water. But no one would see her unless they looked for her. Her iridescent tail camouflaged in the sunlight, making her look as transparent as the water.
When she moved closer to the beach, she used her hands to drag herself out of the water, carefully inching closer to the sailor’s still body.
Finally, she was right besides the sailor. She noted how much larger she was compared to her, the human’s entire form not even being as long as her own tail. Her guard, for a moment, lowered.
‘Tiny’, she thought. ‘What could a tiny creature like this do to harm me?’
With her razor claw, she gently poked the pirate on the side, doing it harder when there was no response from her. And again, and again until, unbeknownst to her, a large bruise had formed on the pirates waist.
The siren lifted one of her hands, pressing it against her larger and longer one. She frowned. ‘How does it hunt with these? You couldn’t even catch tuna with these.’ She dropped the limb; it flopped to the ground with a dull thud.
She flipped the body over. Her eyes were locked onto the pirates face. It was…strange. A large nose, small eyes and, no gills? How did it breathe? She leaned closer, her head tilting like a curious bird.
Then she heard it. A faint, rhythmic thrumming. Really faint but she could hear it. Being a predator, her ears were strong, powerful enough to hear the entire ocean when she hunted, but now, she could clearly hear the faint sound coming from the middle of this surface-dweller’s chest. The siren leaned down, pressing her ear to the sailor’s ribs.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
It was soft, gentle, much slower than the frantic, panicked beats she heard when they drowned.
She parted her lips, and began to hum. She sang her song, using the sailor’s heartbeat as her metronome, weaving a melody around it’s rhythm. It was a duet unlike she had ever sung. So lovely, her eyes fluttered shut, and she fell asleep on the sailor’s chest.
Hours after the one-sided encounter, Michaela’s brain acted, forcing her to cough up the water in her lungs. Each convulsion was agony, but worked as she gasped, taking in a deep breath to give her body the oxygen it desperately needed. She threw her body to the side, sucking in greedy breaths.
Everything hurt. Her body had done it’s best to repair itself in her sleep, but she could still feel that fatigue. Her muscles ached, refusing to obey her commands to rise. Her throat was raw, head pounding like a cannonade.
She laid there, not by choice but decided not to fight against her body and let it wake up at its own terms. In doing this, she fell into a deep sleep once more.
She woke again as the sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of red and gold. Using what little strength she had, she pushed herself into a seated position, the world swimming around her. She looked around, disoriented. Sand. Palm trees. No ship. No crew. Only the relentless sound of waves. Her throat was parched.
She was still delirious, her head thick with fog, but survival instinct was a stubborn thing. She had to find shelter. She had to find water. Tomorrow, she could figure out how to escape. For now, she just had to survive the night.
She attempted to stand. A searing bolt of pain shot up her left leg, and a guttural scream tore from her throat as she collapsed back onto the sand. Her ankle. She lifted the hem of her soaked trousers and hissed. It was swollen to twice its size, a grotesque mass of bruised purple and angry red. A sprain. At least, she hoped it was only a sprain.
She tore the headband from her hair, wrapping it around the joint as tightly as she could manage, gritting her teeth against the pain. Then, using her hands and her good leg, she began to crawl further inland, away from the cold, damp shore, towards the trees. She found a bush laden with berries. Her father had taught her which ones were safe. She ate handfuls, before collapsing at the base of a large tree, her back against its trunk. Exhaustion claimed her again before the light faded.
She awoke with the sun, feeling marginally more alive. She limped back toward the beach, chewing on a handful of the berries she’d gathered, her eyes scanning for any sign of fresh water. She was so focused on her search that she almost missed the off way the water was flowing. A small part swimming through itself. She was out of it, but she knew what she was seeing. She’d seen eels cast the same illusion but never that big. Or swimming towards the shores.
She took a small step back, trying to put distance between her and the creature.
The sailor stopped in her tracks when a head of hair so dark it looked like a shadow bobbed out of the water, followed by sharp dark eyes.
In her 28 years on this earth, First Mate Michaela Stirling had sailed nearly 16 them. In all those years, she’d heard of tales of a creature with the body of a woman and the tail of a fish. A creature that lured sailors to their death through song. She’d always dismissed them as tall tale to steer sailors of certain territories, which for most part worked. She hadn’t ever believed or dismissed those ideas; she’d be a fool to. She’d sailed all seven seas, and even she knew she’d barely known the ocean, so it wouldn’t be a stretch to believe in such. She only thought it unnecessary as they had better, more realistic things to hunt. Women with bodies of fish weren’t one of them.
Now here it was. She’d never seen one before, but she was certain this was it. The siren many sailors spoke of. Staring at her, and her staring back at it.
At first glance, it had the upper body of a woman, from torso to face. However, if you paid attention at her, looking past that illusion, it wasn’t quite human either.
More like a fish had tried to mirror a human—only from memory.
Its eyes were long, narrow, black as a shark with a faint, hypnotic gold around them. It was as if she’d been staring at a solar eclipse. Its ears; long, sharp, lying flat against its head. Mouth stretched impossibly wide, to where her cheeks would be, supported by a wider jaw. Her nose was small, looking more like someone had punctured two holes in her face than an actual nose. Her hair fell down the length of her body, nearly touching the middle of her waist. A thin, dark drown, almost black from all the time spent underwater. Her torso was long, arms just as long. Her shoulders narrow. Her skin was pale, nearly the colour of a corpse, but it glimmered in the sunlight as if someone sprinkled her with iridescent glitter.
And below the waist, instead of legs, was a tail. A magnificent, terrifying tail of iridescent scales that shifted between blue, green, and silver.
Michaela looked past the alien features, then saw why sailors spoke of a woman with a fish tail. She was beautiful, her face not too different from hers. A face that could, in the right light, be mistaken for a beautiful European woman.
“Am I not cursed enough,” Michaela groaned, sitting down to relieve the pain in her leg. What was she to do now? Try to survive on a nameless island with a siren in proximity with no sword or gun? Maybe this was her great death. Too bad she’d never be able to tell the tale of how magnificent they were. Just like the many men who’ve encountered the beast.
“To a dying a great death.” She whispered as the creature slowly approached her, with what could only be described as eager curiosity.
To the sailor’s surprise, it stopped maybe three meters in front of her, keeping it’s tail in the water, and moved into a seated position. Michaela watched it in awe as its entire form emerged from the water. It was large, as a predator would be nearly twice her length if she could stand up, her tail taking up most of that length.
To her surprise again, the siren threw a fish in front of her. A large tuna that clearly had been caught with razor claws.
The siren looked at her expectantly, nodding it's head towards the fish. ‘Eat.’ She thought, putting all her weight on the back of her tail like a makeshift cushion.
The pirate’s eyes filled with distrust. Narrowing and flickering down to the dead fish then back up to—the other fish several times before coming to just rest on the siren’s face. She took a chunk of her cheek in between her teeth, nibbling on it. A nervous habit of hers.
Ask any of her crewmates and she was the brightest light in the shed. Resourceful and one to think quickly on her feet. She was also one brave sailor, undeterred by most things on the sea.
But now, her heart raced in anticipation. Wearing a calm façade when in fact she’d been expecting the worst from the creature.
Yet the siren only sat before her; still, unmoving. Eyes only locked onto the land walker, waiting for her to accept her gift. Her head tilted, something Michaela noted she’d done a lot, eyes going back and forth between the sailor and the tuna.
She hissed. A sound that sent shivers down the sailor’s spine. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, lips parting with a soft gasp. It wasn’t from the sound. She’d swam with whales, sharks and other creatures with much worse sounds. What scared her the most, was the row of sharp teeth that rested in the creature’s mouth.
They were all pointy, as she’d expected a predator to be, with three rows of canines. She could only describe them as mature leopard seal teeth, just on a wider jaw.
They were incredible, but made the sailor wish she had drowned instead.
How did she even survive?
When the sailor made no move to eat, the siren jerked forward, quick and impatient. She picked the fish up and attempted to shove it whole into the sailor’s mouth.
Michaela’s eyes widened, moving her face back to spit out the sand that was on the fish that was now all over her mouth. She only then understood what the siren wanted.
“Okay. Okay. I’ll eat.” She spat with the sand. “You aren’t really polite, are you?”
The siren ignored her, dropping the fish in her lap this time and waited expectantly.
The sailor used her nails to skin the fish as much as she could.
The siren watched her carefully, lowering her head to the fish, eyes wide as she watched the sailor use her hands to take a bite. A small bite that seemed to take minutes to crush and swallow. Too long if she had anything to say about it.
She watched the sailor as she peeled the skin, discarded the bones and only ate bits of the flesh.
“Are you going to watch me eat the entire time?” Michaela finally asked, put off by the intense gaze the creature had on her.
The creature would not respond. It only moved it’s curious claw to the sailors mouth mid chewing, and parted her lips to reveal her teeth
Michaela’s eyebrows furrowed, moving her head back but the siren insisted on seeing her teeth. It ran it’s claw down the inside of her lip, exposing her lower teeth. Small, shaved down, no canines in sight. She pushed her jaw down, inspecting her teeth more, pressing down on her canines, testing how much damage they could do.
None apparently.
Michaela’s eyes darted everywhere but the creature’s face, hoping she would lose interest in the inside of her mouth as quickly as possible. She just sat there, with her mouth wide open, mashed tuna waiting to be swallowed.
Finally, the siren dropped her jaw, turning her attention to the sailor’s ears, brushing her fingers past them. Then her jaw, her neck and exposed collarbone.
“Do you speak English?” Michaela asked, breaking the creature out of the trance her body seemed to have over her.
“E—nglish,” the sailor repeated, louder than before.
The siren perked up. The only sounds she’d know humans to make was gurgling and screaming. Whatever sound the sailor was making was not a scream. Not a gurgle and definitely not singing.
She parted her lips, opened her mouth and tried to replicate the sound, as a curious animal would.
“Eee—.”
Michaela dropped the tuna, her hands shooting up to her ears to prevent them from internally bleeding. The sound that came from the siren was ear shattering, sounding like someone scratching a board with their fingernails. It took moments before she could relax, keeping her hands to her ears which was a brilliant idea because the siren tried again.
“Ee—ee—”
“Can you stop. Please.”
“Ee—ess.”
Through the torture, she noticed that the creature was only mimicking the last words in her sentences. It was only trying to speak, and mimic the way Michaela moved her lips.
“You’re tongue-tied,” Michaela said, a surprised laugh escaping her. “It’s not going to work. You sound like a snake.”
“Sss—eee—.” The siren processed only the last word again.
“No. Snake.”
“Sss—eee—.”
“No. Still wrong.”
The siren smacked her tail against the water in frustration, a loud, cracking sound that echoed across the beach.
“Okay, okay,” Michaela sighed, rubbing her face. It was madness what she was about to do. Attempt to teach a mythological creature her language. “Let me teach you. Before you make us both go deaf.”
“Listen,” she brought her finger to her lips, using it to emphasis the way her lips moved when she spoke. “Snake.”
She cautiously crawled closer. The siren watched, her black eyes unblinking. The siren’s gaze was fixed on her lips, her throat. Noting the way it jumped when she would say something.
“Snake.” She said enunciated every letter.
“Sss—eeeaaa—.”
Michaela acted on instinct. She lunged forward, not attacking, but using her hand to gently close the siren’s mouth, pressing her tongue to the roof of it to force the ‘n’ sound.
The siren recoiled, a sharp hiss of warning, snapping her teeth near Michaela’s hand. Michaela expected nothing less, she did after all catch a predator off guard. But she didn’t move away, instead persisted.
“Snake.”
She put her hand on her own jaw, demonstrating the movement. She repeated the gesture on the siren, her touch light and quick.
“Try.”
“Sss—eee—,” Michaela braced for the screech, but then the sound changed. “Eeennn—.” Then went back to her default sound.
It was still terrible, but it didn’t make her ears bleed.
“Yes! Just like that.”
The siren’s tail gave an excited little flutter.
“Now, ‘ay’.”
The siren only stared at her, head titling to the side.
When she didn't follow after her, Michaela had a dumb idea. She held her hand out, and waited for the siren to take the hint. When the siren didn’t, she used her other hand and placed it in her open one to demonstrate.
Cautiously, the siren did as instructed, gently slipping her hand into the human’s.
Michaela slowly brought the siren’s hand to her throat and took the other to her lips. They were cold to the touch, much as she expected from a sea creature. “Ay— Snay—ke.” She said, letting the creature feel the way the sound formed and the way her lips moved. She looked up to ensure that the siren was following, and her eyes locked with a dark set that was unwavering. Locked on her lips and throat, as if they’d make a movement she’d miss.
Carefully, the sailor reached out, hands approaching the siren’s face. She gave the creature enough time to duck away had she felt threatened.
Instead, the siren's lips parted and she began, “S—” Michaela pressed below the siren's jaw, “n—”, then she pulled her jaw open with her index and middle fingers, “aaee,” she went back to her default sound.
“Yes.” Michaela said with a nod, making the siren flap her tail with excitement.
“Now, we need to make the ‘k’ sound. How on earth are we going to do that.” She thought for a minute and realized; it sounded like a choking sound. She braced herself for the worst.
Gently, she put her hand around the sirens throat, just at the top, “Open,” she whispered, then mimicked what she wanted her to do, “Say ah.”
The siren followed obediently. As she made the sound, Michaela tightened her hand, a choking sound coming from the creature.
“Like that.” She said then demonstrated the sound she needed her to make.
“Ee—.”
“No, ah.”
“Ah,” Michaela pressed her throat, “ack—.”
“Yes, like that. S-n-a-ke.”
The siren repeated after the sailor, the work having a few unnecessary elongations. It was broken and awkward, but the sailor praised her nonetheless, knowing it was the best she'd get from the creature.
The siren repeated the word, sounding like a child who’d just learnt a new word. Which wasn’t farfetched. However, she must have forgotten why they were learning the word as she pointed to the pirate while saying it. “Se-nack.”
“Oh no— no. No.” The pirate responded, horrified. To her, it sounded like the siren was calling her a snack. “Michaela.” She said, pointing at herself.
She spent the next hour or so teaching the siren her name, using touch and sound. She guided the siren’s fingers to her own lips, to her throat. She let the siren feel the vibration of the ‘M’, the sharp stop of the ‘K’, the curl of the tongue for the ‘L’. The siren, for her part, was an intensely focused student, her large, dark eyes never leaving Michaela’s face.
“Close,” Michaela said softly,” she brought her hands to the siren’s lips and throat, now both holding each other, one feeding on the other’s heat.
“Michaela.”
“Mmeeckeellaa.”
“Exactly like that.”
“Michaela,” the siren said, still awkward and tongue tied but right.
“And you, your name?” She pointed at the siren who just eyed her with curiosity.
“Michaela.”
“No, I’m Michaela. You?”
“Ee—.”
“That can’t be your name.”
“Ee—.” The siren repeated, pointing at herself but this time, Michaela noticed it came as a short melody. She could sing her name. Not say it because speaking wasn’t natural to her tongue.
“Oh, that’s a … nice name.”
The siren splashed her tail. That language barrier would be the death of Michaela, she could do nothing but give the only companion she’d have for the rest of her life her patience.
“Eeeccka,” The siren fought to get out, struggling to get the sounds to her tongue. When Michaela turned to her, she was pointing at herself.
“Huh? Ecka?” The siren shook her head. She slapped her tail against the water. She was trying to make a sound her mouth did not know how to make. Well, she didn’t know what the sound either.
“Would you like me to teach you the alphabet?”
The siren cocked her head to the side. Michaela brought her hand to her lips as if it would give the siren a clue.
Eager to learn something new from the pirate, the siren scooted closer, nearly face to face with the sailor who let her do as she please.
“Repeat after me.”
She wrote the letter ‘A’ on the ground, the siren watching her every move and said, “Ah”
Then B, “Buh”,
C, “Cuh.”
She went up to Y, skipping the many letters the siren would probably never use.
It took the whole afternoon. Going back and forth between sounds and words. Tails slapping water in frustration, eyes widening in excitement. But by the end of the afternoon, the siren was fluent in basic English phonics, her tongue and jaw accustomed to the way humans stretched to form words.
“Well, I should find shelter, it’s dark and who knows what awaits me tonight.”
The siren perked then repeated after the sailor, “eee-S'elter.”
“Yes, Shelter. I must go.”
“S'elter.” Michaela looked in the direction the siren was pointing. Something she hadn’t seen before, far up in the trees. A small hut built into the crotch of a massive banyan tree, its thatched roof barely visible in the fading light.
“You understand me?”
“Eee-sss,” she said, nodding as if to confirm what she had just said.
“You know English?”
She stared at her, blinking and eyes wandering as if looking for an answer.
“How?”
She tilted her had to the side, still, unblinking then, “‘ow”, she repeated.
“How do you understand English?” The sailor asked, none of the words eliciting a reaction from the siren.
“Sailor?” Michaela tried after a long moment of the siren only repeating ‘ow’ in its broken telephone English.
The siren’s face lit up with understanding. “Sailor. S'elter.”
To Michaela’s surprise, she continued.
“Sailor,” she said, then pointed to the hut again.
“S'elter.”
“Look.”
“O’nut.”
“Mea—t.”
She scanned the beach, her gaze falling on the spot where Michaela had landed. Her voice dropped, taking on a mocking, desperate tone.
“O’bord!”
“‘elp!”
“Get ‘er!”
Michaela’s blood ran cold. There have been other sailors here. The siren had learned English from them. Maybe not learned directly from them, just mimicked the words they’d said. This situation was confusing.
“Well,” she said, her voice carefully neutral as she forced her up and began to limp backward, holding onto the unfinished tuna. “I best leave. Goodnight. Thank you for the tuna.”
She retreated toward the hut, not turning her back on the siren until she was well into the trees.
Getting up was a hassle but it was easier with the help of the makeshift rope ladder. Also helped that it wasn’t her first time climbing with a hurt limb. When she made it all the way up, she sat on the deck to take a break, and watched the siren in the shallows. It watched her for a few minutes, before turning away, blending in with the ocean, vanishing into the night.
When you board your first pirate ship, your captain warns you of everything that can go wrong. That being the many storms you sail through, a fellow sailor with ulterior motives, or the many unknowns of the ocean. Either way, when you board your first ship, you were signing your life away to the possibility of endless adventure.
Or the possibility of being taken by the ocean. Make peace with it, or perish.
So, when First Mate Michaela Stirling went overboard one confusing night, she could only praise herself for dying a great death.
It all started when Ol’ Joe the Cook stumbled out to the deck, eyes locked on the ocean as he walked like the deck stretched for miles. His face was slack, movement jerky, eyes seeing things no one else could. A man in a trance.
Everyone knew Ol’ Joe to be missing a screw or two up there, so the pirates were barely shaken when he stood by the railing, and moments later was swallowed by the dark water, the only remains of this being the loud splash that echoed across the empty sea.
The crew wasn’t moved, not when it was common for pirates to throw themselves overboard. Some would take a dip in the sea waters; others did it as a parting.
It was only when McGee followed, did everyone’s guard go up, all rushing to the railing to see what was going on. Murmurs passed between them, confusion evident within the group.
They figured something was up when O’Malley jumped.
Then Jefferson.
McIntyre.
Smith.
One by one her crew abandoned their posts, faces as slack as Ol’ Joe, scurrying for the ocean.
Michaela fought her way to the main deck, her voice sharp over the chaos, ordering the men still in their right minds to grab the others, to tie them down.
It was like trying to hold back a tide, the madness was too contagious.
She stood near the helm, her monocular telescope in hand, searching for men when she heard it.
It was a soft hum. A melody that echoed in all directions of the seabed. She’d almost missed it, the head that bobbed out of the water. She was certain that the creature had been looking at her, if she could see anything in this dead of night.
“Siren!” She yelled, moving as far from the deck as possible. Her hands came up, tucked tightly over her ears and she went into action, using her body to bounce and trip the sailors making their way off the ship.
With her ears covered, she couldn’t hear how much louder the siren’s song had gotten and how much madder it made the sailors who hadn’t received the warning. Before she could react, a large body crashed into hers, and for a moment, she was airborne, face to face with the dark ocean, before being swallowed up by it.
She fought her up, taking a deep breath when she surfaced. She whipped around, searching for the creature, praying it wasn’t anywhere near her. All she saw was her ship, and relentless figures pitching themselves from its decks. None broke the surface. She could only watch helplessly as her men vanished into the abyss.
She had started swimming, edging towards the ship as fast as she could when her foot caught something that dragged her underwater. She yelped, sucking in as much air as she could, squeezing her eyes shut. Kicking wildly, she drew a knife—always kept strapped to her thigh—and slashed blindly at her attacker.
A screech tore through the water, a sound that vibrated in her bones. Instead of releasing her, the creature wrenched her hand away from her weapon, in turn twisting her ankle with a sickening pop.
A sharp, blinding pain shot up her leg, up her spine, drawing a gasp that was her last breath of air. Bubbles streamed from her lips as the darkness closed in.
‘To living a great life, and dying a not-so-great death’, she thought, as consciousness slipped away like water through her fingers.
-------------
First Mate Michaela Stirling washed up on the sands of a nameless island in the pacific. She laid face down on the beach, her body twisted awkwardly, as though she’d been flung out of the ocean like a rag doll. Her hair, once pinned into an updo style, now stuck to her face in a tangled mess, the only thing protecting her from sunburn.
She was not alone.
A few meters from shore, a creature swam in the shallows.
Watching.
The same creature the sailor had seen the previous night, and maybe the one who dragged her down.
It curiously swam up and away from the island. Curious about the lady on the beach, but still cautious enough to know how dangerous those land-dwellers were.
She’d been warned many times to steer as far as possible from them, especially when they travelled on those big water houses of their. Only intervene when they sailed too close to their waters.
But she was too curious. She had to know. She had to see them for herself, see what made these creatures dangerous. It would be quick, one glance and she’d swim back to the safety of the deep.
In her defence, she always visited the island, no one ever came here so, she was innocent.
So she swam closer, keeping herself submerged in water. From above, she would look like a giant snake slithering over water. But no one would see her unless they looked for her. Her iridescent tail camouflaged in the sunlight, making her look as transparent as the water.
When she moved closer to the beach, she used her hands to drag herself out of the water, carefully inching closer to the sailor’s still body.
Finally, she was right besides the sailor. She noted how much larger she was compared to her, the human’s entire form not even being as long as her own tail. Her guard, for a moment, lowered.
‘Tiny’, she thought. ‘What could a tiny creature like this do to harm me?’
With her razor claw, she gently poked the pirate on the side, doing it harder when there was no response from her. And again, and again until, unbeknownst to her, a large bruise had formed on the pirates waist.
The siren lifted one of her hands, pressing it against her larger and longer one. She frowned. ‘How does it hunt with these? You couldn’t even catch tuna with these.’ She dropped the limb; it flopped to the ground with a dull thud.
She flipped the body over. Her eyes were locked onto the pirates face. It was…strange. A large nose, small eyes and, no gills? How did it breathe? She leaned closer, her head tilting like a curious bird.
Then she heard it. A faint, rhythmic thrumming. Really faint but she could hear it. Being a predator, her ears were strong, powerful enough to hear the entire ocean when she hunted, but now, she could clearly hear the faint sound coming from the middle of this surface-dweller’s chest. The siren leaned down, pressing her ear to the sailor’s ribs.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
It was soft, gentle, much slower than the frantic, panicked beats she heard when they drowned.
She parted her lips, and began to hum. She sang her song, using the sailor’s heartbeat as her metronome, weaving a melody around it’s rhythm. It was a duet unlike she had ever sung. So lovely, her eyes fluttered shut, and she fell asleep on the sailor’s chest.
-------------
Hours after the one-sided encounter, Michaela’s brain acted, forcing her to cough up the water in her lungs. Each convulsion was agony, but worked as she gasped, taking in a deep breath to give her body the oxygen it desperately needed. She threw her body to the side, sucking in greedy breaths.
Everything hurt. Her body had done it’s best to repair itself in her sleep, but she could still feel that fatigue. Her muscles ached, refusing to obey her commands to rise. Her throat was raw, head pounding like a cannonade.
She laid there, not by choice but decided not to fight against her body and let it wake up at its own terms. In doing this, she fell into a deep sleep once more.
She woke again as the sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of red and gold. Using what little strength she had, she pushed herself into a seated position, the world swimming around her. She looked around, disoriented. Sand. Palm trees. No ship. No crew. Only the relentless sound of waves. Her throat was parched.
She was still delirious, her head thick with fog, but survival instinct was a stubborn thing. She had to find shelter. She had to find water. Tomorrow, she could figure out how to escape. For now, she just had to survive the night.
She attempted to stand. A searing bolt of pain shot up her left leg, and a guttural scream tore from her throat as she collapsed back onto the sand. Her ankle. She lifted the hem of her soaked trousers and hissed. It was swollen to twice its size, a grotesque mass of bruised purple and angry red. A sprain. At least, she hoped it was only a sprain.
She tore the headband from her hair, wrapping it around the joint as tightly as she could manage, gritting her teeth against the pain. Then, using her hands and her good leg, she began to crawl further inland, away from the cold, damp shore, towards the trees. She found a bush laden with berries. Her father had taught her which ones were safe. She ate handfuls, before collapsing at the base of a large tree, her back against its trunk. Exhaustion claimed her again before the light faded.
-------------
She awoke with the sun, feeling marginally more alive. She limped back toward the beach, chewing on a handful of the berries she’d gathered, her eyes scanning for any sign of fresh water. She was so focused on her search that she almost missed the off way the water was flowing. A small part swimming through itself. She was out of it, but she knew what she was seeing. She’d seen eels cast the same illusion but never that big. Or swimming towards the shores.
She took a small step back, trying to put distance between her and the creature.
The sailor stopped in her tracks when a head of hair so dark it looked like a shadow bobbed out of the water, followed by sharp dark eyes.
In her 28 years on this earth, First Mate Michaela Stirling had sailed nearly 16 them. In all those years, she’d heard of tales of a creature with the body of a woman and the tail of a fish. A creature that lured sailors to their death through song. She’d always dismissed them as tall tale to steer sailors of certain territories, which for most part worked. She hadn’t ever believed or dismissed those ideas; she’d be a fool to. She’d sailed all seven seas, and even she knew she’d barely known the ocean, so it wouldn’t be a stretch to believe in such. She only thought it unnecessary as they had better, more realistic things to hunt. Women with bodies of fish weren’t one of them.
Now here it was. She’d never seen one before, but she was certain this was it. The siren many sailors spoke of. Staring at her, and her staring back at it.
At first glance, it had the upper body of a woman, from torso to face. However, if you paid attention at her, looking past that illusion, it wasn’t quite human either.
More like a fish had tried to mirror a human—only from memory.
Its eyes were long, narrow, black as a shark with a faint, hypnotic gold around them. It was as if she’d been staring at a solar eclipse. Its ears; long, sharp, lying flat against its head. Mouth stretched impossibly wide, to where her cheeks would be, supported by a wider jaw. Her nose was small, looking more like someone had punctured two holes in her face than an actual nose. Her hair fell down the length of her body, nearly touching the middle of her waist. A thin, dark drown, almost black from all the time spent underwater. Her torso was long, arms just as long. Her shoulders narrow. Her skin was pale, nearly the colour of a corpse, but it glimmered in the sunlight as if someone sprinkled her with iridescent glitter.
And below the waist, instead of legs, was a tail. A magnificent, terrifying tail of iridescent scales that shifted between blue, green, and silver.
Michaela looked past the alien features, then saw why sailors spoke of a woman with a fish tail. She was beautiful, her face not too different from hers. A face that could, in the right light, be mistaken for a beautiful European woman.
“Am I not cursed enough,” Michaela groaned, sitting down to relieve the pain in her leg. What was she to do now? Try to survive on a nameless island with a siren in proximity with no sword or gun? Maybe this was her great death. Too bad she’d never be able to tell the tale of how magnificent they were. Just like the many men who’ve encountered the beast.
“To a dying a great death.” She whispered as the creature slowly approached her, with what could only be described as eager curiosity.
To the sailor’s surprise, it stopped maybe three meters in front of her, keeping it’s tail in the water, and moved into a seated position. Michaela watched it in awe as its entire form emerged from the water. It was large, as a predator would be nearly twice her length if she could stand up, her tail taking up most of that length.
To her surprise again, the siren threw a fish in front of her. A large tuna that clearly had been caught with razor claws.
The siren looked at her expectantly, nodding it's head towards the fish. ‘Eat.’ She thought, putting all her weight on the back of her tail like a makeshift cushion.
The pirate’s eyes filled with distrust. Narrowing and flickering down to the dead fish then back up to—the other fish several times before coming to just rest on the siren’s face. She took a chunk of her cheek in between her teeth, nibbling on it. A nervous habit of hers.
Ask any of her crewmates and she was the brightest light in the shed. Resourceful and one to think quickly on her feet. She was also one brave sailor, undeterred by most things on the sea.
But now, her heart raced in anticipation. Wearing a calm façade when in fact she’d been expecting the worst from the creature.
Yet the siren only sat before her; still, unmoving. Eyes only locked onto the land walker, waiting for her to accept her gift. Her head tilted, something Michaela noted she’d done a lot, eyes going back and forth between the sailor and the tuna.
She hissed. A sound that sent shivers down the sailor’s spine. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, lips parting with a soft gasp. It wasn’t from the sound. She’d swam with whales, sharks and other creatures with much worse sounds. What scared her the most, was the row of sharp teeth that rested in the creature’s mouth.
They were all pointy, as she’d expected a predator to be, with three rows of canines. She could only describe them as mature leopard seal teeth, just on a wider jaw.
They were incredible, but made the sailor wish she had drowned instead.
How did she even survive?
When the sailor made no move to eat, the siren jerked forward, quick and impatient. She picked the fish up and attempted to shove it whole into the sailor’s mouth.
Michaela’s eyes widened, moving her face back to spit out the sand that was on the fish that was now all over her mouth. She only then understood what the siren wanted.
“Okay. Okay. I’ll eat.” She spat with the sand. “You aren’t really polite, are you?”
The siren ignored her, dropping the fish in her lap this time and waited expectantly.
The sailor used her nails to skin the fish as much as she could.
The siren watched her carefully, lowering her head to the fish, eyes wide as she watched the sailor use her hands to take a bite. A small bite that seemed to take minutes to crush and swallow. Too long if she had anything to say about it.
She watched the sailor as she peeled the skin, discarded the bones and only ate bits of the flesh.
“Are you going to watch me eat the entire time?” Michaela finally asked, put off by the intense gaze the creature had on her.
The creature would not respond. It only moved it’s curious claw to the sailors mouth mid chewing, and parted her lips to reveal her teeth
Michaela’s eyebrows furrowed, moving her head back but the siren insisted on seeing her teeth. It ran it’s claw down the inside of her lip, exposing her lower teeth. Small, shaved down, no canines in sight. She pushed her jaw down, inspecting her teeth more, pressing down on her canines, testing how much damage they could do.
None apparently.
Michaela’s eyes darted everywhere but the creature’s face, hoping she would lose interest in the inside of her mouth as quickly as possible. She just sat there, with her mouth wide open, mashed tuna waiting to be swallowed.
Finally, the siren dropped her jaw, turning her attention to the sailor’s ears, brushing her fingers past them. Then her jaw, her neck and exposed collarbone.
“Do you speak English?” Michaela asked, breaking the creature out of the trance her body seemed to have over her.
“E—nglish,” the sailor repeated, louder than before.
The siren perked up. The only sounds she’d know humans to make was gurgling and screaming. Whatever sound the sailor was making was not a scream. Not a gurgle and definitely not singing.
She parted her lips, opened her mouth and tried to replicate the sound, as a curious animal would.
“Eee—.”
Michaela dropped the tuna, her hands shooting up to her ears to prevent them from internally bleeding. The sound that came from the siren was ear shattering, sounding like someone scratching a board with their fingernails. It took moments before she could relax, keeping her hands to her ears which was a brilliant idea because the siren tried again.
“Ee—ee—”
“Can you stop. Please.”
“Ee—ess.”
Through the torture, she noticed that the creature was only mimicking the last words in her sentences. It was only trying to speak, and mimic the way Michaela moved her lips.
“You’re tongue-tied,” Michaela said, a surprised laugh escaping her. “It’s not going to work. You sound like a snake.”
“Sss—eee—.” The siren processed only the last word again.
“No. Snake.”
“Sss—eee—.”
“No. Still wrong.”
The siren smacked her tail against the water in frustration, a loud, cracking sound that echoed across the beach.
“Okay, okay,” Michaela sighed, rubbing her face. It was madness what she was about to do. Attempt to teach a mythological creature her language. “Let me teach you. Before you make us both go deaf.”
“Listen,” she brought her finger to her lips, using it to emphasis the way her lips moved when she spoke. “Snake.”
She cautiously crawled closer. The siren watched, her black eyes unblinking. The siren’s gaze was fixed on her lips, her throat. Noting the way it jumped when she would say something.
“Snake.” She said enunciated every letter.
“Sss—eeeaaa—.”
Michaela acted on instinct. She lunged forward, not attacking, but using her hand to gently close the siren’s mouth, pressing her tongue to the roof of it to force the ‘n’ sound.
The siren recoiled, a sharp hiss of warning, snapping her teeth near Michaela’s hand. Michaela expected nothing less, she did after all catch a predator off guard. But she didn’t move away, instead persisted.
“Snake.”
She put her hand on her own jaw, demonstrating the movement. She repeated the gesture on the siren, her touch light and quick.
“Try.”
“Sss—eee—,” Michaela braced for the screech, but then the sound changed. “Eeennn—.” Then went back to her default sound.
It was still terrible, but it didn’t make her ears bleed.
“Yes! Just like that.”
The siren’s tail gave an excited little flutter.
“Now, ‘ay’.”
The siren only stared at her, head titling to the side.
When she didn't follow after her, Michaela had a dumb idea. She held her hand out, and waited for the siren to take the hint. When the siren didn’t, she used her other hand and placed it in her open one to demonstrate.
Cautiously, the siren did as instructed, gently slipping her hand into the human’s.
Michaela slowly brought the siren’s hand to her throat and took the other to her lips. They were cold to the touch, much as she expected from a sea creature. “Ay— Snay—ke.” She said, letting the creature feel the way the sound formed and the way her lips moved. She looked up to ensure that the siren was following, and her eyes locked with a dark set that was unwavering. Locked on her lips and throat, as if they’d make a movement she’d miss.
Carefully, the sailor reached out, hands approaching the siren’s face. She gave the creature enough time to duck away had she felt threatened.
Instead, the siren's lips parted and she began, “S—” Michaela pressed below the siren's jaw, “n—”, then she pulled her jaw open with her index and middle fingers, “aaee,” she went back to her default sound.
“Yes.” Michaela said with a nod, making the siren flap her tail with excitement.
“Now, we need to make the ‘k’ sound. How on earth are we going to do that.” She thought for a minute and realized; it sounded like a choking sound. She braced herself for the worst.
Gently, she put her hand around the sirens throat, just at the top, “Open,” she whispered, then mimicked what she wanted her to do, “Say ah.”
The siren followed obediently. As she made the sound, Michaela tightened her hand, a choking sound coming from the creature.
“Like that.” She said then demonstrated the sound she needed her to make.
“Ee—.”
“No, ah.”
“Ah,” Michaela pressed her throat, “ack—.”
“Yes, like that. S-n-a-ke.”
The siren repeated after the sailor, the work having a few unnecessary elongations. It was broken and awkward, but the sailor praised her nonetheless, knowing it was the best she'd get from the creature.
The siren repeated the word, sounding like a child who’d just learnt a new word. Which wasn’t farfetched. However, she must have forgotten why they were learning the word as she pointed to the pirate while saying it. “Se-nack.”
“Oh no— no. No.” The pirate responded, horrified. To her, it sounded like the siren was calling her a snack. “Michaela.” She said, pointing at herself.
She spent the next hour or so teaching the siren her name, using touch and sound. She guided the siren’s fingers to her own lips, to her throat. She let the siren feel the vibration of the ‘M’, the sharp stop of the ‘K’, the curl of the tongue for the ‘L’. The siren, for her part, was an intensely focused student, her large, dark eyes never leaving Michaela’s face.
“Close,” Michaela said softly,” she brought her hands to the siren’s lips and throat, now both holding each other, one feeding on the other’s heat.
“Michaela.”
“Mmeeckeellaa.”
“Exactly like that.”
“Michaela,” the siren said, still awkward and tongue tied but right.
“And you, your name?” She pointed at the siren who just eyed her with curiosity.
“Michaela.”
“No, I’m Michaela. You?”
“Ee—.”
“That can’t be your name.”
“Ee—.” The siren repeated, pointing at herself but this time, Michaela noticed it came as a short melody. She could sing her name. Not say it because speaking wasn’t natural to her tongue.
“Oh, that’s a … nice name.”
The siren splashed her tail. That language barrier would be the death of Michaela, she could do nothing but give the only companion she’d have for the rest of her life her patience.
“Eeeccka,” The siren fought to get out, struggling to get the sounds to her tongue. When Michaela turned to her, she was pointing at herself.
“Huh? Ecka?” The siren shook her head. She slapped her tail against the water. She was trying to make a sound her mouth did not know how to make. Well, she didn’t know what the sound either.
“Would you like me to teach you the alphabet?”
The siren cocked her head to the side. Michaela brought her hand to her lips as if it would give the siren a clue.
Eager to learn something new from the pirate, the siren scooted closer, nearly face to face with the sailor who let her do as she please.
“Repeat after me.”
She wrote the letter ‘A’ on the ground, the siren watching her every move and said, “Ah”
Then B, “Buh”,
C, “Cuh.”
She went up to Y, skipping the many letters the siren would probably never use.
It took the whole afternoon. Going back and forth between sounds and words. Tails slapping water in frustration, eyes widening in excitement. But by the end of the afternoon, the siren was fluent in basic English phonics, her tongue and jaw accustomed to the way humans stretched to form words.
“Well, I should find shelter, it’s dark and who knows what awaits me tonight.”
The siren perked then repeated after the sailor, “eee-S'elter.”
“Yes, Shelter. I must go.”
“S'elter.” Michaela looked in the direction the siren was pointing. Something she hadn’t seen before, far up in the trees. A small hut built into the crotch of a massive banyan tree, its thatched roof barely visible in the fading light.
“You understand me?”
“Eee-sss,” she said, nodding as if to confirm what she had just said.
“You know English?”
She stared at her, blinking and eyes wandering as if looking for an answer.
“How?”
She tilted her had to the side, still, unblinking then, “‘ow”, she repeated.
“How do you understand English?” The sailor asked, none of the words eliciting a reaction from the siren.
“Sailor?” Michaela tried after a long moment of the siren only repeating ‘ow’ in its broken telephone English.
The siren’s face lit up with understanding. “Sailor. S'elter.”
To Michaela’s surprise, she continued.
“Sailor,” she said, then pointed to the hut again.
“S'elter.”
“Look.”
“O’nut.”
“Mea—t.”
She scanned the beach, her gaze falling on the spot where Michaela had landed. Her voice dropped, taking on a mocking, desperate tone.
“O’bord!”
“‘elp!”
“Get ‘er!”
Michaela’s blood ran cold. There have been other sailors here. The siren had learned English from them. Maybe not learned directly from them, just mimicked the words they’d said. This situation was confusing.
“Well,” she said, her voice carefully neutral as she forced her up and began to limp backward, holding onto the unfinished tuna. “I best leave. Goodnight. Thank you for the tuna.”
She retreated toward the hut, not turning her back on the siren until she was well into the trees.
Getting up was a hassle but it was easier with the help of the makeshift rope ladder. Also helped that it wasn’t her first time climbing with a hurt limb. When she made it all the way up, she sat on the deck to take a break, and watched the siren in the shallows. It watched her for a few minutes, before turning away, blending in with the ocean, vanishing into the night.
Author's Rant:
Disclaimer: I own none of the media used in this story. Credit to the rightful owners.
Side Note: The siren's in this short story are non magical sirens. It's fun to actually brainstorm how her and the human with interact and everything. Only, I might have shot myself in the foot in the long run because yes, treating them like a realistic creature makes writing them harder but fun because, I though of that? Insane.
Description: The siren's physique was inspired by leopard seals and nagas. So imagine those but a fish... reason being: Mermaids were manatees who people thought looked like humans and I thought, what would a predator mermaid originally be and I could only think of leopard seals. So...yeah!
If you can't tell, I had so much fun writing this!
Special thanks to @peachygelic for beta reading this for me!
