The Song of the Siren By: David Kent


Sleet pinging against dark glass behind him, wind whipped leaves stampeding past his feet on the unlit path, an eerie howl screaming through the treetops; he knew he had trespassed against all reason and common sense, yet he walked further, bent against the storm, forward to meet his nightmare face-to-face.
A glance up at the protective glass set high in the stone wall revealed no sign of movement or light.  Assured that the progenitors of his former captor were unaware of his presence, he crept closer to the dilapidated outbuilding, the shelter of Lilith.

The weather-worn staircase creaked with each step, but the scream of the wind and the rhythmic swash of the rain cloaked the sound of his approach.  This was not his first ascent to her lair, over the past three months, enraptured by her spellbinding looks and his own overwhelming lust; he had willingly given himself at every chance.  It has only been two days since reason overcame his taste for passion, and the revelation that like Adam’s first wife, this Lilith was not there for his pleasure, but he was for hers.
His hand he carried a small bag; a sacrificial offering to appease her anger at his absence.  In the bag were a few of her abandoned relics of his incarceration and a new iPod loaded with what he hoped would be an appreciated playlist.  Music to calm the savage beast.
 
His knock was irresolute, fearing the consequences of both confrontation and avoidance.  He steeled himself in preparation of her seductive beauty and his inevitable enchanting avarice of passion.  He knew he had to concentrate on the words; the words were the key to his continued freedom.  He had to listen to the words, not her song of intoxication.
Barely audible through the raging storm, he heard her footsteps approaching.  Words were there, too.  Concentrate on the words; don’t look at her; listen.  The words are your only salvation.
 
The door opened in mid-sentence.
“…Marianne that it would be tonight, did you know she’s pregnant?  God only knows who the father is, I bet it’s that biker guy I saw her with; Randy bought a bike, did you know that? Nothing big some small little thing to go back and forth to work, Oh My God, did you hear what happened to Alice at work, it’s all over town, I have no idea how she is ever going to live it down, well that guy from accounting…”
There stood the most beautiful, sexy woman he had ever known; his ex-girlfriend, enchanting in every way possible, and she was talking.
“…Stuart, I think that’s his name, well, he was going to ask out what’s-her-name, the one with the boob job, when all of a sudden that Bobby dude just walks right up and takes her out the door, no one I know could figure out where they went, but the next day she was all smiles and a little tired looking, not like Elizabeth after one of her all-nighters, oh, you are spending the night, right? I could use a little…”
Words, listen to the words.  She hasn’t taken a breath since you’ve been here.  Listen to the words!  He thought about all of the times he had spent the night here, suffering the incantations with salacious anticipation of her physical charms.
“…and there’s cold beer in the fridge, but don’t get drunk like before and pass out, that won’t make Mommy very happy; you knew Ellen passed out, right?  She was on a date with some guy she met on the Internet…”
The realization struck that she was not talking again; she was still talking.  This was the same monologue from which he made his break.
“… so after they get her face cleaned up, she started to cry, you did say you wanted a beer, right…”
She turned towards the kitchen; he bolted for the door.
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