PURE FICTION
The Singing of the Siren’s Flute
A young musician, who captivated the attention of everyone who heard his melody emanating from his beloved flute, ensnared them with his gaze and charm, which even the strongest couldn’t resist. Controlling their minds, the bard’s timbre and voice, derived from the melodic siren’s song and their magic, satisfied his hunger for souls and the eyes of those who proclaimed him as the best, a visionary.
In a distant village, on the edge of the Sea of Calamity, many heard melodies coming from the distant mountain, which was centered within the sea itself. No man or woman had ever set foot in those lands, and none desired to do so. With stories circulating, through the waters and mists surrounding the mountain, few believed in the possibility of surviving an adventure in that sacred ground. No one knew what lay beyond their comfortable land. It was when, on a rainy and windy day, merciless and aggressive to the homeless, a man dressed in light, long clothing — a gray tunic, considerably different from the attire of the other men, and with a distinctive hat, adorned with a feather dancing with the wind on its left side — walked towards the nearest village. He had no name and didn’t look at the direction he was headed. He merely played his flute, as if its sound guided him like bats. With such horrendous weather, the people of Nearwater dared not leave their homes, fearing a tornado might carry them beyond the familiar, higher than usual.
The mysterious bard was approaching. Slowly walking while playing his sacred flute, he passed by the first houses on the border of the rest of the land. He just walked, and the most intrigued men, upon hearing the captivating sound of the musical notes, peeked through the windows, parting the wolf-skin curtains that warmed the houses from the inside. They saw the man passing by. It was hard to ignore his melody, how wonderful and alluring it became, yet little did they know that it was only for his carefree stroll. A thousand other songs were composed for a thousand other situations. When he reached the village’s central point, the bard noticed that some windows were now open, and faces peered through them with curiosity. Typical reactions of curious beings who only wanted to know the source of the beautiful flute’s sound. At that moment, as he noticed the different faces looking at him, the bard glanced around. Many noticed the strange features of the bard, such as his wide smile at the corners, elongated like a toad’s. His nose was sharp and narrow, like a swordfish. His eyes, just like his ears, were non-existent, only dark and deep cavities emanating repugnant energy. Adults covered the children’s eyes, who, despite the difficulty in perceiving the details of the bard’s face due to the insanity of the ongoing storm, could sense the energy that radiated when the bard looked at each face individually for long minutes.
Feeling uncomfortable, no one remained interested in the horrific appearance of the musician. As they closed all the curtains and ignored his presence, the bard continued to look at each window. Hoping that another one would open to observe him once more, or that a door would unlock, and someone would come out to talk to him, the bard kept looking. Tears flowed from his cavities, blood spilled from his ear-replacing holes, and little could be said about what the bard felt at that moment. Without eyes, without emotion. Long minutes passed, counting up to ten, and the bard remained in the same posture. And at that moment, a new melody was born. It seemed as if the bard knew what to do, playing skillfully without missing a note, constantly with the perfect pitch. He played without stopping, excited, as if his breath had no end. Nodding his head to the different notes, tapping his foot to the rhythm of the music, the bard played with a passion never seen before.
Hearing everything emanating from outside, this time, everyone decided to look out of their homes and admire the spectacle happening in that relentless rain. The music didn’t stop, and the people of that village felt compelled to dance and hum along with the melody. Nothing happens by chance. In a way, it seemed like all the men, women, and even children knew those musical notes. It was as if they had been singing them forever, but they accompanied the bard like a musical. When the bard raised his head again and looked around, stopping the performance, the smile created by the music vanished. Along with the fading of his smile, the rain remained still. Each droplet that fell hung motionless in the air, as if time had frozen. Neither the wind nor the water continued as they were supposed to for the day. The villagers couldn’t react, thinking that this time, the mysterious man challenging their view was now a magician. And there was much magic, not pleasant for their future.
With time at a standstill, the bard let out a scream so loud that the other end of the village could hear it. Those who hadn’t heard the initial music initially heard the bard now, expressing his voice aggressively as his flute began to play. While the flute played magically, without the bard’s fingers covering the tiny holes that transformed musical notes into different characteristic notes, a breath had to be magically emitted into the flute as well. Accompanying this music was the bard’s alarming cry, which sounded like a massive invocation of evil. And indeed, it was exactly that. As he combined both sounds, the rain started to rise, and the storm receded in time. The large raindrops that once fell now ascended into the sky again. Perplexed by this phenomenon, the people of Nearwater reacted with fear and immense curiosity.
But they were intelligent and tried to close their curtains and lock their doors and windows to protect the contents of their cozy homes. Typically constructed of wood, with a storm like this, everything was easily destroyed. But it was to no avail. As if by magic, people began to float simultaneously toward the windows and any holes in the walls, as if they were being pulled out of their homes. No solution came to their minds. Chaos easily took hold, just like the bard in these lands. And very quickly, people were forcefully yanked as if a furious demon had seized them by the neck and pulled them towards himself. The most fragile children died immediately, painlessly, as the force of evil snapped their weak necks. The rest now found themselves at the bard’s feet, who continued to scream endlessly to the unending music.
Their fate was sealed the moment they realized the bard was now looking at their faces again. Once more, the eyes of all who saw and heard the spectacle left their bodies. They were torn out with the utmost brutality, leaving empty cavities in their faces, spewing blood as they screamed. Satisfied with the ritual he had performed in Nearwater, the bard disappeared like a ghost who had completed his mission in our world. The village’s people remained where they were, lifeless in the middle of their beloved village and unable to continue enjoying it.
Thank you for reading this short story.
I don’t have a schedule with what I publish, short stories, or thoughts.
I just write what I want when I want it. Trying to alternate between both.
I only hope you like what I write and feel what I try to share my own mind.
Thank you!
