Mistress Of The Sea
The Sea raged as the waves crashed into each other like lightning and the skies thundered in anger. It was a night for shipwrecks and mysterious creatures to roam the waters. That’s when she surfaced, leaving the depths of the ocean, her hair as violent as the water. She knew she would find him here. And all she had to do was sing… His eyes opened to blue skies with orange and purple starting to fill the cracks, spreading like a disease. It was odd for him to be up at this time. He rolled onto his back, kicked around under the covers and shut his eyes, determined to go back to sleep. He could hear the ocean, the waves caressing the shore over and over again, declaring their everlasting love. The constant swooshing of the sea, like music, slowly lulled him back to sleep. There was a whistle in the wind as if someone was singing to him. A soft, sweet melody, almost like a whisper. His eyes snapped open again and he exhaled in frustration. He threw his sheets aside. There was no way he was going to fall back asleep. It was a cool sea-side morning, too early to be bright. The light had barely touched the ocean. People were still dreaming, still lost in their own head. It felt odd to be up at this time. And there it was again, that music in the air. An alluring brush of sound in the wind. Without really knowing how, he found himself down at the beach, walking along the water. The sand felt cool and dry under his feet. Minutes passed, hours maybe, he wasn’t sure. Somewhere along the way the morning fog had rolled in, with the rumbling of thunder in the distance promising a storm. Without a sense of direction, he followed the melody that had enchanted his heart. That’s when he saw her standing by the shore. A woman, wearing a dress the colour of seaweed, staring longingly at the ocean. The bottom of her dress was wet from where the waves kept creeping up to kiss her feet as if she was royalty. The wind kicked up a storm in her hair, blowing her red curls every which way. The singing grew louder, as if it was right in his ear. He could swear it was coming from her. He was mesmerized, caught up in her beauty and in the wistful music that seemed to surround her. The way her eyes glared into the infinite, the way her skin shimmered, tinted blue. He wanted to run his fingers through her soft hair that burned like hellfire. He longed for her to sing to him. Her beautiful song of lust and agony, her melody so haunting and seducing, calling him, asking him to come with her. Swearing to him her body, her soul, her voice, with words from another world. Promising him the softness of her breast but also that beneath them, even if it was cold and full of bad intentions. But something felt wrong. Deep inside he was trying to fight her, resist her.
“You want me,” she whispered, her voice echoing in his head.
“Come with me,” and she reached out to him with hands that were ready to drag him to the bottom of the ocean. He wanted it all, to love her, hold her. He wanted to wrap his hands around her pretty little neck and squeeze until her charm was broken, feel the magic be crushed under his fingertips.
“No,” he choked, barely being able to get the word out.
Her head snapped around to look at him, her eyes stormy with rage, the sea raging with her. The skies grayed as her face turned into a sinister smile, her eyes locking him in a gaze and when she sang it was almost painful. He wanted her to stop. But her voice cast a spell, like giant hands wrapping themselves around him, pulling him closer. His resistance left with the wind. He wanted to belong to her story. A story of magic and mystery as deep and dark as the sea. He wanted to be free. But her voice captured him, and her filthy lies entranced him. She belonged to the water and now he belonged to her. When she reached out her hand, he took it. He knew her song ended in death, but what a small price to pay for an eternity with her. Credit: Natasha Maria Rajendram Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.