SOS

The sun bleeds a melisma of colour over the sea – yellow fades effortlessly into orange, then gradually into a deep, thick red, over the horizon, pouring vibrant pigment into the water. The border between the heavens and sea is thin; a line drawn taut. The fishermen in the harbour are skilled and certain in how they untie the ropes and gather the nets. There is no time for mistakes. 

There is no time. 

The boat leaves the port mid-evening. They settle down, take out plastic containers, and chatter amongst them starts; their amicable stories punctuated by short bursts of quiet chewing. Further up the deck, the captain steers at the helm. He isn’t sullen by any means, but certainly quiet; watchful of his surroundings in the low light. His daughter, Lucia - a girl of tall stature, about nineteen – mimics her father's observant lookout, steadfast. There is a clear sense of familiarity and comfort between them, even in silence. By this point, the sun has dropped below sight, far out of reach of the eyes.  

The boat slows. They turn off the engine, lower the anchor and reel out the nets – all that is left now is to wait, in the hush of the night. A few become drowsy from the gentle lull of the wind, the rock of the waves. Some let their chins drop onto their chests, their breathing heavy. But there is no time for sleep. 

There is no time. 

The captain’s daughter stands alert. Unlike the seasoned sailors, she struggles to sleep out on the deck; it is too cold, too bitter. She holds the rails and watches the lapping of the water, one wave after the other rising and sinking back to the depths. The night distorts features. Anyone can hide behind a shadow, a façade. 

A heavy feeling, like smog, fills the air. Stifling. But there is no time to question. 

There is no time. 

Further out in the water, the waves are disturbed by growing ripples, branching up into figures rising from below, dark and imposing under the low-hung moon. They clamber onto rocks with uncanny speed; Lucia is instantly at attention, already feeling threatened, on edge. The sudden commotion rouses the sailors. Curious, they look to the source of sound. 

All are transfixed in an instant, stunned by the illusion of bewitching beauty. Their eyes are fixated to one point; one central gravity.  

Then the song began. 

A haunting, meandering melody, words hidden amongst layers of sound bright and low, yearning for an audience. Their voices grappling outwards, tethering to the bared souls of men, demolishing all ideas of their fragility. With the guidance of the sirens, they truly and wholly believed they were infinite. With someone else at the forefront of their minds, they truly believed there was nothing other than the sirens' song, an intoxicating poison.  

There was no life, no death, and certainly no time to wait. 

There is no time.  

The men scramble to the side of the boat, rabid at the cage of safety, desperate to reach out, to drink the song for themselves. To bathe, to bask in its beauty. To take a dip. 

The captain himself is transfixed. Yet his daughter, Lucia – she is anything but. Touched by the gaze of Medusa, petrified, she does not move, except for a subtle tremor in her hands, mimicking the flutter of her heartbeat beneath her skin. The sirens take little notice of her. Their attention is locked on the sailors, who are now beginning to weave clumsily through the bars; blind, drunken followers of a greater force. There is no time to wait. 

There is no time.  

But Lucia does not see what they see. Lucia is not enamoured by their song, the lies they spread. 

Lucia hears the truth. 

She pleads desperately with the sailors, to hear the sincerity in her voice, but they are deaf to her calling. She pulls, tugs them away from the rails, drags them by their arms, their hands. Tries to lead them back from the edge. Yet, nothing she does can halt them – they twist through the bars, and drop themselves without hesitation into the water, down, deep down below the surface. At seeing her own father taken host, she cries out in anguish, as he paws desperately at the barriers of his own ship, losing all sense of belonging, of self.  

If nothing is to happen, more souls will be lost to lies. Lucia knows, in a moment what she must do. There is no time for deliberation. 

There is no time.  

Acting with haste, she drops the nets, having no time to salvage the night’s catch; reels in the anchor, turns on the engine, following the actions her father would have taken. She can steer, take them out of the depths and back to land. She stands at the helm and sends a quiet prayer upwards. For the safety of those remaining, for lost souls to rest, and for the peace of their families.  

The harrowing song pulls her away.  

She steers the boat around, and retraces their steps, remembering the path from her watch earlier that night. Though the light is low, the sun begins to rise ahead, pooling light into the new day, guiding her onwards. The light is a comfort – a reminder of her strength, of the rise and fall of dark times. Though shaken, though scarred, she is at peace for a moment. 

There is no time. 

Do not wait.  

To start on a positive; the book review was published!! I'm offering condolences for the ears of everyone around me for the last week because I haven't shut up about it. I'm just too excited honestly. And an apology for not posting - it's been a very long few months, I mean I've moved house and consequently not had any wi-fi, plus it's just been a slightly nightmarish time, what with trial exams coming up. Everything else is looking much more positive though. This piece I'm submitting to another competition - I'm not hopeful about winning whatsoever but there's no harm in trying. I honestly don't feel like it's my favourite piece - but maybe I'm just not used to the new drafting technique I tried. Some recent reads; Station Eleven, I Am Legend, currently reading Brave New World, and many more books lined up (like, I'm not joking there's just that fat looming STACK of books I need to get through). I should also mention I didn't stop writing completely the last few months - I haven't put any other full pieces together but I am planning something more long-form. Really hoping writing actually gets me somewhere. I'm hopeful.

(also, please don't judge my sailing knowledge. It's pretty limited.)

Song Suggestion - Your Needs, My Needs by Noah Kahan