A short story...
A wind whispers through the cracked open windows, an effervescent song on the edge of the breeze, startling a young child awake. The child had been dreaming, a pleasant tale that quickly turned sour, it felt as if the song on the wind had lifted them from the nightmare. The child got out of bed and went over to the window. The sea was brewing large waves that came up and crashed alongside the hill. The small road that separated the sea from the child’s yard was getting decorated with sea foam. They could still hear the faint song, but they could not deduct where the source of it was coming from.
From the other side of the small road, over the waves and over the jagged rocks and over the little fish that were swimming away from the surface of the shallows, someone, or something, was wading in the middle of the ocean, singing.
The sky was dark and the stars were hiding behind storm clouds, a very faint reflection of light shining upon the sea figure. Adorned with mother-of-pearl and delicate calcites, their hands were moving slowly and with a deliverance, as if they were coaxing the song out of themselves. This went on for several moments, the sound of the sea and the thunder only amplified the song. The figure moved and dove beneath the ocean water, swimming to the shallows, to the sand. She remained in the tide but sat upright upon the beach.
The waves came in, caressing and crashing against her fins and hips. Her hair clung to her face and her shoulders, enveloping her bare chest and cascading down to her belly. She looked out at the shoreline, studying the shadows, looking for something. As her eyes peered closely at the dark sea, she saw the movements, ever so faint, ever so inconspicuous.
Remaining where she was, she closed her eyes and focused. Careful to not let her heartbeat give away her fears, she took a deep breath and began her tune again in a hum. The moving shape in the distance began to grow farther and farther away, and the siren figure raised her hands and began to coax the song out of herself once again, her hum turning into a grand orchestra of tidal compositions and force. She sang from her gut, her fingers deliberately pulling the notes from her mouth and allowing them to fly across the incoming waves.
When the shape in the distance was gone, and out of sight, the siren allowed herself to rest. She laid on her back upon the sand as the waves crashed along the shore, her hair beginning to fill with sand. She looked up at the sky and saw the stars peeking through, the storm clouds passing slowly and out of view.
The child, seeing that the waves were calming down and retreating from the road, eventually moved away from the window, going back to their bed and falling into a restful and deliberate sleep. Perhaps the siren had been casting a spell, an armor over the dreams that weave into the night; perhaps her song had been scaring the nightmares away, back to the depths from whence they emerged.
Tiffiny Rose Allen is a writer and poet. Originally from the state of Florida, she started writing at an early age and self-published her first collection of poetry Leave The Dreaming To The Flowers at the age of 18. Her poetry is eclectic in portraying her views of the different aspects of life. When she is not somewhere writing, she is either creating something with her hands or working on anything and everything that excites her. Her work has been featured in numerous magazine and anthology publications, including The Elpis Pages, Harness Magazine, and Dreamer by Night Magazine. Her poetry and short story collections can be found on Amazon. You can find more of her work on Instagram @dreamsinhiding.writing
Also, hear her on a few episodes of the Humminbird Blink: Nectar Poetry Spotify podcast. Tiffiny has a poem in issue no. 1 of Dipity Literary Magazine.