Siren Head Picture Novels & Stories

Gabe’s phone buzzed in his palm—unknown number, two words that turned his stomach cold. Call me. — Pal He answered. “Yeah?” Pal’s voice was too calm. “We found something off the headland. You need to see it.” “What is it?” A beat. Then: “What’s left of a trawler. We think it’s the Siren.” Gabe’s free hand found the pew and gripped until his knuckles ached. “Any survivors?” “Not yet,” Pal said. “But there’s… writing. Same as the beach. On the inside of the hull.”

It spoke of what a shiny sharp objects that sliced through the neck of the siren's son would do to the future of the community. The mother siren's wail was immediate, filling the hall with a shout of despair. Claws escaped her webbed digits, gills covered her arms, fins spread out like wings just not as wide. She screeched forcing everyone to covered their ears as she pushed against the guards to get to her son. She didn't need to, she was allowed. The hall was still again. All heads stuck to the sight before them, unsure whether it were a royal show or it had actually happened.

Marcus pointed to the first one that set her eyes on the captain. A female head with a curvy torso up to the navel, and the rest of the body tailed off like a fish. Her hair was a shining burgundy brown in color. She leaped out of the water like a dolphin and slowly swam toward the ship. More Sirens emerged out of the fog. Marcus pointed to one of them that had salmon-colored hair.