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Siren
#2
The ship, it swayed, heave ho, heave ho
On the dark and stormy blue
And I held tight to the Captain's might
As he pulled up his trews.
"You haven't slept," he said
In many suns and moons."

"Oh, I will sleep when we reach shore,
And pray we get there soon."
He said, "Now hush love, here's your gown.
There's the bed, lantern's down."
But I don't want to go to sleep; in all my dreams, I drown.

The Captain howled, "Heave ho, heave ho,"
And tied me up with sheets
"A storm is brewing in the South,
It's time to go to sleep."
His berth, it rocks, heave ho, heave ho
The ocean gnashed and moaned
Like Jonah will be swallowed whole
And spat back teeth and bones
He said, "Now hush love, here's your gown.
There's the bed, lantern's down."
"But I don't want to go to sleep; in all my dreams, I drown."

"Captain! Captain!
I will do your chores
I will warm your cot at night
And mop your cabin floors
Scold me, hold me
I'll be yours to keep
The only thing I beg of you
Don't make me go to sleep.."

The sky, it flashed, heave ho, heave ho..

His pillow toed to the brink.
The curtains ran between my legs as we began to sink..
I closed my eyes, heave ho, heave ho,
As the ship was rent and fell
Eddies in the water headed to the mouth of Hell.
"Hush now, hush love, here's your gown.
There's the bed, lantern's down.."
"I'm begging you, please wake me up.
In all my dreams, I...."

--Jessica Lowndes & Terrance Zdunich

It was so close. A return to the Deep. 

Floating, falling, flying. Everything and nothing at her fingertips. 


She couldn't remember how long it had been since she danced. Or if she ever truly had. 

She could remember, however, the stories. Painted in her mind. Curiosity devouring them, faster than they could be told. The songs. Not her own, but one that flowed into her. Took her, body and soul, to look down from high above and not only watch them unfold, but be one with them. 

The freedom to forget the boundaries, the hunger and fear and purpose that unconsciously had driven her for many long decades. The fear, lingering at the edges of her mind, that even a moment of release, of distraction, of sleep, even, would bring that hunger back to the forefront. 


Her bonds had become her release. 

And for that, she was thankful. 


Contrary to popular belief, the wings of demons are the same as the wings of angels, although they're often better groomed.

--Neil Gaiman
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Siren - by Katya - 09-23-2019, 07:56 PM
RE: Siren - by Katya - 10-08-2019, 10:02 PM
RE: Siren - by Katya - 10-19-2019, 09:57 PM



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