The Murderer’s Song

Chapter 1

The idyllic village of Seinneadair lies on the Eastern shore of Loch Morar. A close-knit, fishing community, isolated from the rest of the untamed Scottish Highlands by the mountains sloping either side of the water; its crystal, translucent surface shimmering faintly beneath the glow of the pale moonlight. The steep hillsides are coated in layers of violet heather, ferns and grass, so if anyone were to gaze upon them from a distance it would seem as if a giant has clawed the mountainside. Clusters of cow parsley and buttercup poke out from the thick heather like small, yellow eyes. As the land begins to flatten out, pine forests are scattered along the shore and at one point the lapping waves meet with a beach as white as the snow atop the high peaks engulfed in misty clouds. On some hills, sheer cliff drops separate the dusty track winding down the slopes from the Loch. Swirled in mist, several islands rest on Loch Morar, surrounded by jagged, blade-sharp rocks that could tear a ship to pieces. And though water birds soar across the water nearby, these islands are uninhabitable.
Except one.

“Kade! Mind to nip on down to Mrs. Mcutler’s shop and get some milk!” My maw shouted up the stairs.
Outside my bedroom window, the sun was rising and a weak, golden glow peeked through the curtains. Blinking wearily, I responded to her command with a muffled groan and pulled the duvet over my head.
“Kade, did you hear me? Kade!” Maw refused to be ignored.
“Aye maw!” I forced myself to stand up and rubbed my eyes. I grabbed me coat from the closet and trudged me way down the stairs. Maw hummed to the music on the radio as she placed a plate stacked with buttered toast on the table. My sister Crissie noisily shovelled cornflakes into her mouth like coal into a furnace. Bonnie thrashed against the restraints of her highchair, throwing her alphabet blocks on the kitchen floor; Maw forced to bend down each time to gather them up. Me Pa thumped his mud-caked boots on the table, flipping through his newspaper and grumbling at the odd article.
“I’m off to get the milk, pa.” I told him as I grabbed a slice of toast.
“Mind our fishing trip tomorrow,” Pa reminded me, not bothering to tear his gaze away from the page.
“I will.” I assured him. Pa still didn’t look up. I leant over to view what he found so interesting.
“There’s been a drop in trout sales. How exciting.”
Pa scowled; then shifted his concerned gaze back to an article I hadn’t noticed;
“A yacht and its crew went missing yesterday sailing on Loch Morar. This is the fourth boat to disappear on Loch Morar in the last two months.”
I wanted to hear the rest of the article but a forceful nudge on the arm from Maw told me to get going. I swallowed the toast and slipped out the door.
I live in a little white cottage roughly ten minutes from Mrs. Cutler’s shop if you make a detour past The Siren’s Call. Mr. and Mrs. McDonane own The Sirens Call. Mrs. McDonane lets us in any time we want, especially since Isla likes it when I visit. By the way, Isla’s my best friend. Her and her little brothers- Brandon and Brodie- are Mr. and Mrs. McDonane’s children. Isla is beautiful; red curly hair like a torrent of fire that flows down her back, freckles spread across her nose and dimpled cheeks and skin so white it could be the sand of Loch Morar beach. As The Siren’s Call appeared in view, its sign- which pictured a fair-haired woman sitting atop a rock whilst her sun-kissed skin glistened with water droplets- rattled in the wind. I was just walking past when Isla emerged from the pub carrying a casket of empty beer bottles. Spotting me, she placed the box down, waved enthusiastically and yelled; “Kade! Maw wants to know if yer cumin over for tea!”
“I dunno! I’ll ask me maw. I’ll give yer a ring when I got the milk from Mrs. Cutlers!” I hollered back. With a smile warmer than a roaring log fire, she picked up the casket and disappeared around the back of the pub, so I guess that was the end of the conversation. Isla isn’t one to hang around and chat, though time after time I have wished she would stay more than a minute. I carried on to Mrs. Cutlers shop with a spring in me step.

The bell on Mrs. Cutler’s shop rang as I opened the door.
“What can I do fur yer laddie?” Mrs. Cutler asked from behind the counter, glaring at me through her bottle-top spectacles.
“Me maw wants some milk” I told her.
Mrs Cutler’s prune-coloured, wrinkly lips scowled in disapproval; “Ah does she now, yer’ll hav’ to ask nicely then lad.”
“Canna please hav’ some milk Mrs. Cutler?” I asked, making me sound like I’m eight, not eighteen.
“That’s better. Manners don’t cost nowt, youse kids act like it cost thousands.” Mrs. Cutler’s big on her manners. She fetched me a bottle of milk from the sub-zero fridge that makes anyone nearby shiver and I slid a few coins across the counter. She was just about to hand me the milk when she said; “Manners, laddie?”
“Thankyuh.”
She smiled and sent me off with me bottle of milk. As I returned home I prayed Isla would be outside again, but sadly I was disappointed. I continued on my way as fast as I could so I could ask me maw if I can go and have tea at Isla’s. I walked in the door and put the milk in the fridge.
Pa was still completely absorbed in reading his newspaper. “Pa, can I go ova’ to Isla’s for tea later?”
He put down his newspaper, which is a very bad sigh. “Oh, yer’ wee girlfriend?”
I groaned. Whenever I’m with a girl, Pa always assumes we’re on a date, though sometimes he deliberately uses his assumptions to irritate me. “Pa, she’s not me girlfriend. We’re just friends.”
Pa raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Looks like yer girlfriend to me.”
I sighed. Pa grinned, relishing in the fact he was still capable of annoying me.
“Yer can go over fur tea just make sure yer tell us before ye get married.”
Pa whistled the tune to ‘Here Comes the Bride’. I grunted at him then quickly walked out of the door.

“So, you coming tonight?” Rose Carson asked me, rocking back and forth on a swing.
“Can’t I’m afraid; I’m going to Isla’s for tea.”
Rose snorted and blew a wisp of cold, misty breath into the morning air. We were hanging out at the park like we often do, along with my other friends; Kenzie McNeil, Evan Wilson, Cora Smith and Paden Abercorn.
“Yeah, because he loves her.” Kenzie taunted, putting on his best love-smitten voice and making smooching noises with his lips.
“Get off, Kenzie, she’s not me’ girlfriend; honestly I get enough of that from me’ Pa.” I chuckled at his ridiculous smirk, which looked like he had passed gas; “What are you, twelve?”
“I’m eighteen-and-three-quarters actually, which makes me a big boy!” Kenzie’s little-boy impression was one of his favourites, though I had just tired of it and, even if they refused to admit, it was obvious the others felt the same.
“I think you two would make an adorable couple,” Evan added, “Besides, Seinneadair isn’t exactly Los Angeles; pretty girls are hard to find here.”
“Speak for yourself, Oxford.” Rose grumbled, stubbornly rearranging her hair, the colour of golden syrup streaked with candyfloss-pink, in her lipstick-smudged make-up mirror. We call Evan ‘Oxford’ because he’s the only one out of us who can afford to go to University next autumn. His Pa manages a successful mining business which has bought them the biggest house this side of Loch Morar. The money Pa makes from fishing isn’t enough to pay for a scholarship for me, but I don’t really mind that much; after all, when Pa retires I’ll take over from him and become my own boss; sailing the waves at ease.
Rose leapt down; “If you ask me, which nobody does, I think that Isla ain’t nothing but a filthy slag!”
“Rose!” Cora shouted at her, “Sorry Kade, she’s just jealous.”
Rose tutted and folded her arms in disagreement. I shrugged the issue away. Cora was right; I don’t want to insult one of my best friends, but Isla is undoubtedly far prettier and smarter than Rose will ever be. A concerned Evan broke the silence by turning to Paden; “By the way, is your Gran feeling any better?”
Paden shook his head sullenly; “Doctor says she might need a hip replacement if she ever wants to walk again.”
Paden’s parents were killed in a boating accident five years ago, so his Gran has taken care of him ever since. Unfortunately, his Gran was plagued with health troubles and had gone to see the doctor down in the city. Paden has stayed with the Wilsons for the duration of his Gran being away. “Well hadn’t you best be getting back to the shelter belter you love so much.” Rose remarked.
I turned to face her and retorted “The only shelter belter around here is your sister.”
I turned to the rest of my friends “I’ll be seeing you all later then.”

The Sirens’ Call was, as usual, busy that day. I waded through the crowds of fishermen in damp overcoats telling the same alcohol-induced jokes over and over again, while chortling through their matted grey beards so hard they almost spilt their beers, the honey-coloured liquid sloshing wildly in the throth-clouded glasses. Mrs. McDonane was caught between pouring a drink for a solitary young man lingering silently at the end of the bar, and pretending to take interest in the somewhat flirtatious conversation of a drunken, grey-haired customer. It seemed everyone in the McDonane family was there but Isla. I went up to Mrs. McDonane, now cleaning out empty glasses with an old cloth.
“Hello, Mrs. McDonane.”
She smiled at me; “Well, hiya there laddie, youse looking fur Isla?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m afraid youse have to ask her brothers, cause’ I dunno, as usual. That girl, she comes and goes as she pleases.”
I was about to turn away when she stopped me.
“By the way, youse still doing youse fishing trip with your Pa tomorrow?”
“Yes, we are. It’s the best time in season.”
“Well you tell your good old Pa that if he has any trout to spare, I’ll buy a few. I fancy making me famous old fish pie.”
I licked my lips, savouring the tasteful memory of Mrs. Cutler’s last fish pie; she makes the best in all of Scotland. A bar stool scraped across the wooden floor as the solitary young man jumped down and left the bar. I looked around for Isla’s troublesome siblings. At table with one leg shorter than the other at the furthermost point of the bar, her two brothers were playing cards. Braden slammed an ace down on the polished wood whilst Brodie attempted to solve the difference between a spade and a club in a dimly lit room. I walked over to Braden and shouted over the lively banter, “Where’s Isla?”
He looked up at me with impatient displeasure, replying, “Upstairs reading Wuthering Heights, some boring old book.”
“Yeah, some boring old book.” Brodie repeated before sticking his tongue out at me for interrupting their game.
I nodded them the thanks they didn’t deserve and made my way upstairs. I first went to the lounge, hoping that she’d be in there. A fluffy Persian cat lolled lazily on the battered floral sofa that I had jumped on many times as a child. Charred logs spat amber sparks like snake venom from the stone fireplace upon the far wall. Above the fire, the mantelpiece- without a speck of dirt as ensured by Mrs. McDonane- was decorated by masses of family photographs; dozens of smiling, scenic memories caught forever in wooden frames. A small coffee table sat idle in the centre of the room and ageing novels collected dust on a large book shelf placed on the wall by the sofa. I left the lounge and continued down the landing to Isla’s room. I knocked on her door, twice, once then twice again.
“Come on in Kade!” Isla yelled through the door.
I opened the door and walked in only to be knocked over and jumped on. We both lay on the floor laughing for a few minutes then I said through fits of giggles
“What…the hell…did… you …do that… for?” We both laughed again and she said through a mix or snorts and giggles;
“I… was …trying… to do… a… run… and hug”
As we were still lying on the floor I pulled her into my arms and hugged her so tight she gasped; “Ribs,”
That just set us of laughing again. Suddenly Isla broke of her laugh and screamed;
“I’m going to pee my pants!” She jumped up and dashed for the bog. I sat there and waited for her to return from the toilet. When she returned she was no longer laughing but had a huge grin on her face. She pulled me up off of the floor and we sat down on her bed.
“I can come for tea tonight”
Her whole face lit up as she sang “Great!”
“Would you like to go to the beach with me, Isla?”
She studied me for a second then asked “You won’t push me in, right?”
I put my fist to my heart and said “Scouts honour.”
She rolled her eyes at me; “Let me get my wellies, then.”
I watched her run out of the room then heard the thud, thud, thud of her running around the flat. Roughly five minutes later, she returned wearing purple wellies covered in bumble bees. She grabbed me by the hand, saying; “Come on then, mop.”
I’d been called a lot of things by Isla but never that one before
“What?” she giggled and said;
“Your hair. It looks like a mop.”
I stuck my tongue out at her then ran down the stairs.


Chapter 2


My eyes opened to bright sunlight streaming through my window. Joyful memories of the previous day came flooding back to me.
My pa yelled upstairs “Son! Get ready, we’re goin fishing in an hour.” I leapt out of bed and flung open the wardrobe doors. I grabbed a long-sleeved t-shirt, a fleece jumper, some jogging bottoms and a waterproof coat. I hurried to the bathroom and scrubbed my teeth as hard as I could. I splashed some water at my face, blinking as the droplets stung my eyes. I ran downstairs to find no toast on the table.
“Maw! There’s no toast left.”
“Your pa must have eaten it all!” She yelled back. I quickly put four slices of bread in the toaster and stood there waiting impatiently, constantly checking my watch. I boiled the kettle and made me self a cuppa. As soon as the now toast popped up I buttered them and ate them as quickly as possible. I drank my cuppa tea and ran to the closet and got my wellies. I ran around the house until I found me pa. “Pa, have you got the rods and bait?” “
Yep it’s all packed in the car.” I put on my wellies, flung open the front door and got into the car. Soon after, Pa sat down behind the wheel and started the car
.

As the car turned a corner and the white beach drifted into view, Pa leant over and whispered; “Had a nice time with your girlfriend last night?”
“Pa, she’s not my girlfriend. How many times do I have to tell you?”
Pa chuckled; “Oh yea, and you came back from your ‘friend’s’ house with a huge, lovelorn grin smacked across your face.”
“Even if she was, which she isn’t, it would be none of your business.”
“Oh, now we’re getting somewhere…”
“Pa!”
Pa patted me on the shoulder, “I’m just messing with you, son. But still, look at yourself; you’re eighteen; a man of the household. One day I’m not going to be around anymore and you’re going to have to take care of your old Maw.”
“Pa, your thirty-eight, for heavens’ sake, you’re going to be around for a lot longer.”
Pa’s face had gone from joker to concerned; “You’re not a kid anymore. You’re going to have to settle down sometime soon. And that starts with finding a nice girl.”
The car pulled into the dock, beside a row of colourful beach houses. Some metres away, our white yacht was moored on the sand, surrounded by scattered shipwreck debris that had been coughed up by the waves. As I got out of the car, I rubbed me hand through me windswept hair and realized Isla was right about calling it a mop. Pa was already heaving the fishing gear towards the boat. Suddenly, a clattering sound echoed from the other side of the yacht. Pa carefully put the tackle down and looked at me worriedly, as if to say ‘what was that?’ I shrugged in reply. Then, a small, shiny object rolled out from under the boat. A hand appeared behind it, half cloaked in a long sleeve. I opened my mouth to speak but Pa silenced me with a wave of his arm. The hand fumbled around on the sand for a second before resting on the object. Quickly, it disappeared back under the boat. I blinked, wondering if I had imagined it. Yet, from his reaction, I guessed Pa had seen it as well. Equally stunned, Pa turned his head to me and put a finger to his lips. Slowly, trying not to make a noise, Pa picked up a piece of metal piping lodged in the sand and wielded it like a club, creeping ever closer to the yacht.
“Pa; no.” I whispered.
Pa ignored me, so I followed him silently. Reaching the yacht, Pa raised the makeshift weapon above his head. Fearful that whoever it was could be armed, I clasped the pipe and yanked it from his grasp. Taken by surprise, Pa scowled at me furiously. I mouthed at him to stay where he was, then, cautiously, I peered around the corner. A cloaked figure knelt beside the whitewashed wood, scraping away at it with the shiny object which turned out to be a penknife. The small blade glinted in the sunlight like Isla’s eyes when she laughs. A took another step forward, unfortunately onto some crinkled seaweed. It crunched loudly beneath my foot. Immediately, the figure responded to the intrusion by glancing around madly. I lunged for them. The figure let out an air-strangled gasp as I landed on them, pinning them to the sand. However, I howled in pain and rolled onto my back as I was kicked in the stomach. With the agility of a deer escaping a lion, the figure scrambled to their feet and ran away. I sprinted after them. Reaching the beach houses, they slipped round behind the pastel-painted walls. By the time I had reached it, the figure had vanished. Gasping for air, I sighed in defeat and returned to the yacht, where Pa was inspecting the damage.
“Nothing bad; really.” He mumbled, “Most likely we scared them off before they could do any real damage. She’s okay to sail. Shame we didn’t say who it was.”
Breathless, I nodded; then assisted him in getting the boat launched in the water.

Loch Morar was coated in a thick, almost unnerving mist. The boat steadily drifted across the crystal-like water, rocking up and down with every wave it came into collision with. At one point the water crashed over the side of the boat and I was thrown backwards against the mast.
“Hold on tight, lad.” Pa shouted from behind the wheel, “The further from Seinneadair we get, the more fish we’re likely to catch.”
A fountain of spray rained down on us.
“Mind you,” He continued nervously, “The weather wasn’t supposed to be this bad today.”
I nodded through the brown veil that was my wet hair; clinging to my face like limpets to a rock. The boat hit an unusually large wave, sending the stern up into the air before crashing down again. Normally, my stomach could take any voyage, but the constant sway meant a sickly feeling surge up my throat and I leant over the side. Then, as I wearily gazed at the transparent swell, a flourishing school of rainbow trout swan into view, their gaudy scales glistening like diamonds. I turned to Pa.
“Pa, I can see fish!”
“What?!” Pa shouted in reply,
“I can see trout!”
“Well get the rod over the side, but be careful not to let go!”
Almost drunkenly, I staggered across the wooden deck, grabbed one of the rods and hurled the string overboard, its heavy, metal hook plunging into the deep, jade depths. The rod strained against the weight and I gripped it so hard my knuckles turned white.
“Pa, I’ve got it!” I cried joyously. No praise came from the bow.
“Pa? Pa?!” I turned my head slowly. Pa was gazing absent-mindedly at the fog, a half-smile on his lips, his eyes transfixed on the invisible source of his silent, impulsive delight. A faint voice echoed across the Loch, yet too distant to clearly interpret.
“Pa? Pa?” I waved a hand in front of his eyes, yet they did not blink. The voice grew louder, washing over me like a wave. As the boat drifted slowly closer, the words of a song started to form…

“I lost my fair lover to the sea,
Now I wait alone on the shore,
These ugly tears, shame my beauty,
O how I cry and yearn evermore.

Come hither, strange traveller so,
Come answer a sweet maiden’s moan,
To the island amongst the water flow,
For the island is where I call home.”

The melody was beautiful. Poetic. Hypnotic even. As if surrounded by an unearthly magnetic force, I felt drawn to it; desperate to seek out the unfortunate creator of this strange poetry. I felt the rod slide through my slippery hands and heard its splash on the Loch’s surface. Neither of us complained at the loss; we were too mesmerised by the song. Through the mist, an island began to take shape; rugged cliff faces showed where centuries of weathering had battered them, crowned with a forest of tall pines, bowing gracefully in the wind. And on a solitary rock stranded off the shore, three figures shrouded in shadow tipped their heads back in song. In perfect harmony, their voices grew so powerful they thundered over the roar of the waves…

“Come hither, adventurer lost, weary,
Mists gather, waves crash and wind blow,
Come hither, to the arms of me,
And then to your death you will go!”

The voices began to fade away, and my senses returned. Shaken, I squinted at the figures on the rock, slowly disappearing from view. Pa blinked and shook his head.
“What was…”
Crash. The stern of the yacht smashed straight into a shelf of stone that had been submerged by the water, ripping the front half apart. I was thrown to the floor, my hands protecting my head from hitting the wood. Pa grasped the wheel for support.
“She’s going down!” He cried.
“Pa, can we make it to the rocks?!”
“Possibly son. If we jump we could land on the rocks but if we jump wrong we might not make it.” Stumbling over the splintered deck, I made my way to the edge of the boat and stood on the side; Pa followed me and stood beside me.
“At three we’ll jump,” I yelled to him.
We yelled together; “One! Two! Three!”
We threw our selves off of the boat. I felt my feet touch down on the rocks but my footing felt wrong. I watched my world tilting in front of me and I tumbled backwards. I saw nothing, just darkness that seemed to go on for ever.
Falling,
falling,
falling,
No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t find my way out. Maybe this is death, I thought, and I am cursed with eternal darkness. In what seemed to be the far distance, a weak glimpse of sunlight seemed, in the abyss, like a guiding star. All of a sudden, my limbs clicked into life, and arms reacted to the commands streaming from my brain.
Bursting to the stormy surface, I screamed though oxygen-starved lungs; “Pa! Pa, did you make it or are you dead like me too?!”
“You aren’t dead.”
A cool, female voice whispered in my ear,
“Rather, you must suffer the sorrow of survival, as I have.”
Each word was delivered as slowly and melodramatically as a poet reciting a verse.
“Who is it?” I asked, yet no one answered. My whole body felt weightless, like flying. My skin was so cold the numbness removed any sensitivity in my limbs. My clothes, ripped and tattered, smothered my body. I could feel someone’s hand entwined with my arm, pulling me along. Then, I felt something hard under my back, sand? Gradually, I opened my fatigued eyes to a face staring down at mine.
A woman so beautiful she seemed inhuman. Ash blonde hair fell wet to her curved shoulders, her angelic face as porcelain as spring-cleaned china seemingly radiated its own light, while cerulean eyes purer than the cleanest of waters stared unblinking into mine as if she was trying to figure me out. Like a bird gaining flight, she gracefully ascended to her feet and turned to leave, when I asked: “Is he?”
“Dead, I am deeply regretful for your loss.” She smiled sympathetically and wandered back towards the Loch, then dived in. Why would someone go back into the water, surely the land would be safer? Shakily balancing myself on my unsteady legs, weakened by the frostbite-inducing cold, I looked around me to find that I was on the beach from where Pa and I had set sail.
Pa.
Reality finally began to sink in.
He was dead.
I had to get home.
I ran and ran and ran until I couldn’t go any further. I lied down by the side of the road and hoped that someone I knew drove past. Fatigued, I closed my eyes. Whether I fell asleep or not I don’t know, only what seemed like hours later, my eyelids were filled with a bright light. Slowly, I opened them, blinking at the sudden, blinding glow. I climbed to my feet just before two arms wrapped themselves around my waist.
“What on earth happened to you Kade? You look like a drowned rat.” Isla’s sweet, musical voice filled my ears and I smiled. I smiled because Pa was right, I do have a nice girl and maybe we could get together. I sure like her enough, more than enough. I kissed Isla on the forehead and whispered exhaustedly; “I’m okay Isla. Just take me home.”
I felt her nod against my t-shirt as a she guided me to the car. Isla helped me into the back seat and she climbed around the other side. Protectively, she shuffled closer to me and put her hand in mine. She had never held my hand so tight, it was almost like she was afraid I’d let go or something.
“We’ve been looking for you for a long time, honey” Mrs. McDonane said from the front of the car. I just grunted in reply and, as the car hummed into motion, felt myself drift off to sleep.

‘I dreamed of a meadow of green; blades of grass bowing respectively to the majestic wind. The hot Sun beat down like a beating drum. I wandered aimlessly, clueless to my strange destination. Two fair-haired children emerged in the distance, laughing and playfully chasing one another. I called to them yet they did not respond, only carried on with their merry game. Behind, a cluster of women, tall and lean as grass stems, appeared to be running towards them. Yet, the woman were not intent on joining the childish fun, instead were stricken with fear. Their bronze-tanned bodies were scantily clad in white robes. Two hoisted the squealing children into the air and carried them along; their youthful faces pressed to the carriers’ chests. As they passed they did not acknowledge my presence, but continued running in their terror. And rightly so. For behind them, came the pounding of hooves, as dozens of horses came galloping in a stampede; their riders huge, armour-clad men snarling in rage and wielding swords in the air, flashing in the sunlight. And each time their swords fell, so did one of the women. The ground that was once lush and green was stained red with blood. Then, with a high-pitched scream, a woman tumbled down right in front of me, her limp body caught in my arms. I gasped. For her face, was the one that saved me the night Pa died.’


Chapter 3


Murder or accident? 19th September 2011

Yesterday, I regret to say one of our very best people drowned in Loch Morar. Logan Cormac died aged 38 and will be missed by many in the village. After his 18-year-old son Kade was found lying dazed beside the road, he reported that he and his father were on a fishing trip when their boat crashed on rocks and sank. The search and rescue team were deployed and found Mr. Cormac’s body three hours later on the east of the loch atop protruding rocks. Kade Cormac survived with many cuts and bruises and is very lucky to be alive. Kade has said that he heard a female singing which he believes put both him and his father into a trance; seconds before Mr. Cormac’s boat hit the rocks. Is there a toxin being released into the fog over the loch? Was the singing a hallucination caused by this toxin? And very importantly, who released this toxin?

John Wiggerman, senior reporter


My eyes blinked several times at the article. Had this toxin really killed my Father? I felt my eyes filling up with water and choked down my tears. I looked around; I can’t remember how I got back to the house. The last thing I remember is getting in Isla’s car. I looked out side to find that the sun had risen. I got some clothes out of the wardrobe and put them on. The chorus of ‘All By Myself’ pounded Maggie’s bedroom as my oldest sister wept over a collage she made of childhood photos with Pa, mascara oozing down her cheeks in fat clumps. She frowned angrily when she caught sight of me and slammed the door. Blissfully unable to understand the concept of ‘Pa not coming back’, Bonnie was glued to the tiny TV screen in her bedroom, oblivious to the world around due to the back-to-back episodes of Scooby Doo Ma put on for her. I found Maw curled up on her bed with today’s newspaper clutched in her shaking hands, tears streaming down her face. Crissie was settled on the end of the bed, head bowed. I walked over to her and put my hand on her shoulder; “Maw, I’m going to Isla’s. You going to be alrite on your own?”
Sniffing, she nodded faintly and asked; “Will you take the cake from the oven over to Isla and her maw. I want to say thank you for them bringing my little boy home.”
I smiled at her and kissed her on the cheek. I walked back down the stairs and got the cake out of the oven. I pushed the door open with my elbow and made my way to The Siren’s Call.

The pub was empty. I guess people didn’t feel in the mood to party after this morning’s paper. I trudged up their stairs to find all of the McDonane’s sat in the living room. I held out the cake and said “Maw sent ova a wee cake for bringing me home last nite”
Mrs McDonane walked over to me, took the cake from my hands, placed it on the table and threw her arms around me. “We could of lost you, Kade. No more fishing okay.” I nodded at the stern tone of her voice. She retrieved her arms from around me and said “Right I’m off to see ye maw. Bet she needs a wee hug.” At that she walked off down the stairs. Isla ran up to me and slapped me hard around the face, in the next breath she threw her arms around me and cried. I hugged her close to me and buried my face in her hair. We stood there until Isla stopped crying. I looked over at Mr. McDonane and the boys sat on the sofa. The boys were crying in Mr. McDonane’s arms. Mr. McDonane rose to his feet and walked over to me, Isla removed her arms from around me which were soon replaced by Mr. McDonane’s. I hugged him back and he said “I’m glad we didn’t loose you, Son” he removed his arms from around me and walked out of the room. I walked over to Braden and Brodie and threw my arms around them. “It’s okay guys. It’ll all be okay.” Isla came to join us on the sofa and Braden, Brodie, Isla and I sat there hugging each other for a while. When Isla let go of the boys I took it as an indication of me to do so too. Isla and I stood up and left the room. I followed Isla to her room and said “I’m sorry for upsetting you, Isla” she pulled me down on to the bed next to her and lay down. I wrapped my arms around her and she slowly fell to sleep. She must not have gotten much sleep last night, probably worrying about me. The silly lass. Once Isla was in a deep enough sleep I got off of the bed and found a pen and paper.

Dear Isla,
I’m sorry I had to go. I have a lot on my mind. I hope you sleep well.
I promise to stop by either later or tomorrow.

Love you,
Mop x

I added the last bit in hope that it would make her laugh, and hurried on off down the stairs. I hurried back home to me maw. I knew Mrs. McDonane would still be there but right now we need to get pa’s funeral over with. I walked through the door to find Maw sat at the table with Mrs. McDonane drinking tea. Mrs. McDonane looked at me and said “You back so soon?” I smiled at her and said “Isla’s fell asleep.” She hugged me and said “Good, she didn’t get much sleep last night. Heard her crying I did.”
Her voice faded away as my eyes wandered absent-mindedly. I made my up to my bedroom and sat on my bed. I looked around my bedroom and caught sight of something on my window sill. I carefully walked over to the window and looked at what it was. Pa’s watch. I remembered it strapped to Pa’s wrist, as the boat rocked and swayed against the wind. I picked up the timepiece, the soaked leather spewing droplets along my fingertips, and read the note that sat next to it.

Sorry

The note slipped through my fingers and gracefully fluttered to the floor as I tried to figure who wrote such an apology. I thought of the watch, sinking into the shadowy abyss that had become Pa’s grave. I thought of the anonymous writer, stood upon the white sand, nestling the watch in their fingers. Who could have possibly found Pa’s watch? The only person that was there at the time Pa died other than me would have been that girl that saved me. Her voice sang from the shallows of my mind as clear as the crystal waters from where she emerged;
You must suffer the sorrows of survival, as I have.
Who was this girl anyway? Why did she save me? How would she know where I live? Was it her that tried to sabotage our boat? I dropped Pa’s watch on the floor and ran. I ran out of the front door and did not stop. I barged past Mrs. Cutler with her knitted shawl and two-wheeled trolley, hearing her cursing the loss of manners amongst the new generation in my wake. Waiting at the bus stop, Cora waved merrily at me, yet only a fleeting glance from the left eye acknowledged her greeting. When I finally slowed, I looked around me, startled by the familiar surroundings of moored, peeling-paint yachts and seagulls plucking scrumptious crabs from the shallow rock pools, cackling like folklore witches. I had run to the docks without even thinking. As my exhausted lungs regained the air lost in the run, the corner of my eye caught an astounding sight upon the tall rocks next to the pier.
A girl was perched precariously on the summit, brushing her long bridal-veil of hair, glittering silver as sterling steel, with her timeless complexion perceiving her no younger than seventeen. She was completely naked, save for a white loincloth disguising her most private parts. I quickly turned my eyes away from the girl only to find them wondering back to her exposed breasts. I had never seen a girl naked; I knew Rose stuffed paper down her top to plump up her ashamedly small breasts, but these were unlike any I’d expected; plump, perfectly rounded and shamelessly lavish. A gust of wind tossed her moonshine tresses into the air, and she raised her lips, savouring the cool breeze. I opened my mouth but the faintest wisp of noise caused her, with a sense of hearing as sharp as a fox, to turn her pretty head in alarm and plunge into the Loch.
“Wait!” I cried after her; “I didn’t mean to scare you! Come back!”
I waded in after her but she swam away with the swift agility of a swordfish. Somehow, the way her sleek, streamlined frame slid with such ease through the seaweed-green shallows reminded me of my sinister saviour. I walked into the village and came across an old building with the sign ‘Seinneadair Times’ hanging precariously in the grimy window. Curious, I went inside and found a bearded reporter sat at the desk, eyeing a magazine on which the cover girl flaunted her topless bra.
“How can I help you?” He asked, attempting to hide the magazine beneath the crook of his elbow leant against the desk.
“Are you John Wiggerman?” I enquired,
The reporter grunted, as if the name was a foul smell; “Yes, Seinneadair Times’ senior reporter, the one and only.” He laughed to himself, “Seriously kid, I am the only reporter here. All the hotshot journalists I once employed suddenly remembered they had bigger dreams than this place and left for the big cities. Ever fancied a career in journalism?”
“Thanks, but no.” I told him, “Have you got any recent newspapers about the deaths on Loch Morar?”
He paused in thought for a second, then smiled. He disappeared under the desk and heaved a stack of papers onto it.
“Here you go; some guy asked me to reserve these about a couple of months ago, but he hasn’t returned since.”
“Thank you.” I took them from him and hauled them toward the exit.
“Oh, and sorry about your Pa, lad.” He called after me. I nodded in appreciation as I passed the window. With my arms sagging under the weight, I sat down on the nearest park bench, took the top one and began to read:


Tragic accident Sunday 12th March 2001

A fisherman from one of our fellow villages on Loch Morar died last night in a tragic accident. 56-year-old Paul McGanner lived alone with his faithful greyhound Guinness, and was reported missing by his housekeeper when she visited his house early this morning. It is believed that his boat crashed into rocks on the east coast of Loch Morar. Death reports show that the cause of death was drowning. A tribute is taking place at our village hall at 6pm. All is welcome to commemorate Mr Paul McGanner and we ask that our fellow fishermen take much care out on the Lochs.

John Wiggerman, senior reporter


Death shocks community Sunday 23rd September 2001

Married couple Jinnee Langer, 30 and six months pregnant, and Christopher Langer, 34, died yesterday in a tragic boating accident, killing Jinnee’s unborn child with them. The couple crashed into rocks not far from the village docks and their bodies were found washed ashore by Mr Mackenzie who owns the local post office. He immediately called PC Markson who took control of the situation quickly. Both were rushed to hospital but proclaimed dead upon arrival. The funeral for Mr and Mrs Langer will be taking place on Sunday 7th October at the village cemetery.

John Wiggerman, senior reporter

I skipped a few papers and read one in 2002.

Parents in Mourning Over Loss of Beloved Son Sunday 18th May 2002

The parents of Tommy Henning are in mourning since the 18-year-old died in a boating accident. A nearby boat reported singing shortly before Tommy Henning crashed into the rocks. Tommy’s parents described him as a ‘lovely boy whose memory shall never be forgotten.’ Mr and Mrs Henning will be holding a grand memorial service for young Tommy on Sunday 1st June at the local church.

John Wiggerman, Senior reporter


Is there a murderer afoot? Sunday 10th August 2003

A family that visited Loch Morar on holiday have possibly been murdered. The family’s hired boat was found tamped with, crashed on rocks close to the village of Pilkington. The police or unsure weather the tampering had anything to do with the crashing of the boat it is believed that one of the family is missing as she was not found at the scene of the accident. Abigail Sinnings is in possession of an amulet with a golden eye on. If you spot Abigail please contact the police immediately.

John Wiggerman, senior reporter


Is Loch Morar becoming a cemetery? Sunday 28th February 2006

Isobel and Roger Abercorn, parents of Paden Abercorn, recently died on Loch Morar. Their boat crashed into the rocks not far from Seinneadair dock. We ask that everyone gives Paden as much love and support as they can give. Naked girls were seen fleeing from the scene of the accident just as PC Markson arrived. If anyone has any information on these girls please contact PC Markson immediately.

John Wiggerman, senior reporter


Death of beloved neighbour’s Sunday 2nd December 2008

Mrs Hannah McDonnell and her son Zackary McDonnell recently died on Loch Morar. Their family boat crashed into some rocks near an uninhabited island in the centre of Loch Morar. If anyone has any information please contact the local police.

John Wiggerman, senior reporter.


Shocking interview with Björn Culler founder of www.ManKillers.org
Monday 9th June 2010

John Wiggerman: So, Mr. Culler, tell the readers of the Seinneadair times about yourself.

Björn Culler: I was born and raised in rural Sweden. I studied marine biology at Helsinki University, where I met my darling wife Greta. We moved to Scotland shortly after we got married and I now live on the coast north of John O Groats while researching Scottish wildlife.

John Wiggerman: I understand that you have certain theories about the death on Loch Morar, why don’t you tell us about it?

Björn Culler: Well I don’t really want to just outright tell you about my theories. I suggest you visit my website; www.ManKillers.org.

John Wiggerman: Well, why don’t you tell us now?

Björn Culler: Because then the killers will know I told you.

John Wiggerman: Um okay…well, I’ll visit the site later. How does your wife feel about your…accusations of serial murder?

Björn Culler: Greta left me a year ago. My obsessions with them scared her and she thought I was insane. One day, I woke up and she was gone.

John Wiggerman: I am very sorry for you. Is there anything you will tell us?

Björn Culler: Yes, stay out of the water.


Chapter 4

I quickly took hold of the newspapers and ran back to the news paper agency. I plonked all of the papers on the counter and ran out of the agency and ran home as fast as I could chanting; “www.ManKillers.org”. I slammed the door behind me and dashed past Maw as she stood scrubbing plates in the kitchen, her faint, tear-choked voice straining after me. Reaching my bedroom, I sat down in front of the computer and switched it on, the monitor buzzing into life. I typed the website imprinted on my brain into the search box, and a page entitled, “Man Killers- The Mystery Unravelled”, appeared on the screen. Beneath the title, a huge, digitally framed picture of Björn Culler grinned back at me. He had neck-length brown hair, bottle-top spectacles and wearing a knitted Christmas jumper, three sharpened pencils lined neatly in his pocket. I scrolled down the page and read.

If you’ve come to this site you’ve experienced killings on your local waters. Maybe you have even heard unusual singing and maybe you’ve even seen the girls singing but what ever is happening, you’re desperate.
First sign’s of man killers
It starts with random deaths. The cause of death is always drowning or fatal head injuries caused by the rocks that the boat happened to crash into. Then the deaths become more frequent but the causes of death always stay the same.

You are experiencing far too much death
If people are dying on your waters there are certain tings you need too look out for;
Hypnotic singing
Naked figures
Extremely beautiful girls
Mainly men dying

I am sorry to tell you that you have a clan of Siren’s on your waters.
Kill them. No matter what they tell you. Kill them, before they kill you.

I sat there staring at the things I’d just read. I could feel it burning its way into my eyes and through my brain. I slammed the laptop lid shut and rushed out of the house. I ran as fast as I could to the beach. How would I kill these things? I finally got to the beach and sat down on at the tree stump I sat on not that long ago. I looked around me and I saw out of the corner of my eye something that didn’t belong on a beach. I fully turned around and saw the naked girl from the last time I was on the beach. I watched as she made her way to the water. I hurriedly took of my shoes, threw of my t-shirt and quickly took off my trousers. I crept up behind the girl and dived into the water behind her. The cold was like a strike of frozen lightning, freezing my skin.
Pa.
Determination forced me to carry on. My arms clawed through the green waves, pulling me along. I grunted with the exhaustion. A slosh of white foam knocked me off balance as a speedboat sped past me. The men onboard laughed and the engine roared, coughing out ugly clouds of smoke. Then, as they faded away into the distance, I heard a crash.
The sound of wood colliding with stone.
The island loomed in the distance. It was just how I remembered it from the night Pa died.
Pa
His voice echoed in my head, that foreboding concern in his tone:
“You’ll be the man of the household one day.”
The wreckage, its hull completely split in two, was sinking beneath the waves. A piece of driftwood floated in front of me, so I clung to it for support. Against my weight, it flipped over. I screamed and let go. It was a body. Blood spewing from his chest dyed the water red, while his empty, lifeless eyes stared into nothingness. I felt the soft sand beneath my feet, enabling me to stand up. I gasped. Three more corpses were piled upon the shore and the figure bent over them was one I could easily remember; the one who sabotaged our boat. The water sank to my waist as I drew nearer. His hands searched through the men’s pockets, pulling out various water-damaged wallets and throwing them on the ground. One of his hands stopped, clenched and pulled out, from a man’s pocket, a gold pocket watch. Feeling it with his hands, the corner of his lip curled upwards.
Tucking it in his own pocket, he lent close to the owner’s ear.
“I take it you won’t be needed this.” He whispered. “No? Well, I’ll keep it safe for you.” I felt the anger boil over inside of me.
“Hey!” I shouted at him. Instantly, he turned in my direction, scrambled to his feet and ran towards the cliffs. Once again, I pursued him. However, suddenly he stopped and turned to face me. I had to dig my heels into the sand to avoid colliding.
“Who are you?” He hissed. His face was contorted with anguish, but his eyes, a pale grey, fixed upwards and could not look at mine. He was blind.
“Who are you?” He repeated, “What is your name?”
I paused, then replied; “Kade.”
He inhaled slowly, the angry-red draining from his face. “You? If you had any sense, you would never have come here.”
He turned and continued up the rocks, but I followed.
“How can you possibly know my name?” I asked persistently, “And actually I’m not here entirely out-of-choice, I…”
“A choice?” He interrupted me, “A choice! You wouldn’t know what a choice is. You have a choice, unlike some of us, so take my advice, go back to your mollycoddled existence, date that pretty redhead of yours and live a long and happy life.”
Pretty redhead? It hit me; Isla. Now he really had gone too far;
“How do know about Isla? How much more do you know about us?”
He snarled; “Only what I heard. When you and that redhead’s mother were talking away, you never bothered to notice the solitary man in the corner. That’s how I found out about your little boat trip.”
“Oh yeah, and if wanted me to live, why do you try to sabotage us?”
“Because it would have saved you! It would have saved you both! But you…people…never take a hint. Go home, or never see that redhead again.”
And with that he turned and leapt off one of the rocks. I leant over, but he had gone. I jumped down, wincing as my legs hit the sand. I looked back up. How would I be able to get back up again? Why do I never think about what I do? Then, I saw a cave, though it was obscured by the shadows of the looming cliffs. I crept inside. My tiptoes echoed off the smooth curved walls. A light flicked in the distance. As I drew towards it, two feminine voices locked in confrontation reached my ears…
“…I wasn’t thinking, forgive me…”
“Wasn’t thinking?! WASN’T THINKING?! And you’re supposed to be the clever one!”
“…I was only trying to be kind…”
“Kindness! Did they ever show us any kindness?! When they slaughtered our sisters, our mothers, was that kindness?! When they bound us in chains and beat us like cattle, was that kindness?!”
Another joined in; “Teresea, please, calm down…”
“What happens now, eh? What happens when he tells the others that we’re here? They will hunt us down and shed our blood with their weapons of steel like forest-beasts! Or did you just want another human pet, like your Ambrose here?”
I peered round the edge, having to hold my breath so that I did not disturb them. A huge cavern; glittering with streaks of silver, and pools like green neon lights scattered amongst the sleek, dark rock. The girl who rescued me was sobbing in another young woman’s arms, while another paced back and forth impatiently. The girl called Teresa had long golden blonde hair, icy blue eyes and a small round face. All three women were stark naked; water droplets glistening on their bronze-tanned bodies like jewels. She turned to the blind boy, who was shuffling his feet nervously;
“So, what have you got, then?”
He held out several crumpled papers in his hand; “It was only a little.”
The one I suspected was called Teresa snatched them violently, before tossing each object to the ground as she quickly lost interest in each.
“Is that it?”
“Yes.” He replied, yet his hand discreetly slipped into the pocket containing the gold watch. Unfortunately, Teresea spotted his movement; “What’s in there?”
He withdrew his hand; “Nothing.”
She grabbed his wrist; “Show me…now.”
Slowly, he produced the watch and handed it to her, shaking slightly. Teresea examined it closely, and begun to turn away. Suddenly, she spun round and slapped Ambrose hard on the cheek. He yelped and clutched it in pain.
“That is what happens when you…” She shrieked, wielding her palm again,
The one holding the girl interrupted her; “Teresea, leave him alone, for goodness sake.”
Teresea turned to her, smiling devilishly; “Callista, I never really saw you as a peace-keeper.” She grasped Ambrose by the neck. “I’m sure you remember what she did better than any of us. Frozen for eternity; forever cast in…”
“Enough!” The crying girl cried, her tear-stricken face appeared from the one called Callista’s arms; “Enough, please…”
Teresea groaned; “Very well, I’ll leave you in peace.” She released Ambrose and he collapsed to his knees, retching painfully. As she vanished down a passageway carved in the rock; Teresea called back mockingly; “And to think, I thought for a second- just a crazy thought- that you loved the one you saved…”
Once she had gone, Callista sighed heavily; “Ambrose, fetch me some water, my head is killing me after that.”
Ambrose nodded, “Yes, miss.” He took a shell from a shelf upon the rock and dipped it into one of the emerald pools.
Callista put her hand upon the beautiful girl’s shoulder; “Do not trouble yourself; you showed what Teresea never has and never will, and what frightens her most; the milk of kindness.” Now that the scary Teresa girl had gone I slowly crept around the corner and stood before the sirens.
My saviour stared at me, open-mouthed, while Callista somewhat instinctively turned away from me.
“You!” The girl murmured, “You found us.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I had to see for myself.” It was Callista who spoke next but still without looking at me.
“How did you do it? It’s at least two miles from the nearest shore.”
“I swam.”
“No human could swim two miles in freezing cold water.” replied a young girl in shrill, sweeter-than-honey voice, silver hair flickering in the wind. I hadn’t even realised she was here. A woman stood by her on the far wall of the cave.
“Actually human’s can swim extremely far.” I grinned, proud of my fellow humans.
“It seems there is much we do not know about your kind. You are the boy young Kalliope saved, yes?”
I nodded at the woman stood next to the girl with silver hair it took mere second to realise it was the girl from the beach. I could not work out any of the woman’s features as she was under a shadow of the cave wall.
“Well then she must save you again. You are a worthy human and maybe even a worthy husband of my Kalliope. Maybe even a man that helps conceive many more of our kind.” I stared at the strange woman, mouth agape trying to take in what she was saying. She turned to the girl who saved me and said; “Kalliope, take him back to the shore before Teresa discovers him.” She quickly rose to her feet and walked over to me. Her ash blonde hair floated around her; her blue eyes drawing the light from the cavern.
“You are so much more beautiful than I imagined.” She whispered, “But we must go, before Teresea finds you are here,”
Feeling quite chuffed from her compliment, I took her extended hand, which felt like velvet entwined with my rough palm. As she led me towards the cave entrance, I glanced over my shoulder as Callista took her shell of water from a quivering Ambrose.
“Please, miss…” He begged, “I never revealed anything to him, I swear.”
“You have a sharp tongue, my servant, but I believe you.” She sipped the water; “Explain to me Ambrose, the concept of love.”
Ambrose; “It’s very complicated.”
“But I bet, no love will ever be more complicated, than that of a human and a siren.”
“That is true, Callista but Kalliope and Kade have a strong bond.” said the woman who was stood on the far wall. Kalliope and I reached the exit of the cave as she said “I’ll swim to the shore with you and then we can talk.” I followed her across the sand; we walked past the rocks which I jumped off. How on earth were we going to get to the shore? We came out at an opening and Kalliope dived straight into the water. I dived in after her and swam slightly behind her as I didn’t know the waters as well as she did. It wasn’t long before the beach came into view. The sky was dark; I hadn’t realized it was so late. Kalliope lay back on the sand, and I sat down next to her.
“What are you, Kalliope?”
Her pool-like eyes reflected the stars above “I am a Siren.”
“So, you kill all these men, without a thought.”
Her face flashed with rage; “That is a lie! Your race made up those silly stories about us being heartless killers to cover up the real truth.”
“Then, what is the real truth.”
Sighing, Kalliope began her story in her poetic melody of a voice;
“The Sirens were on this Earth long before you mortal humans. Aphrodite, the Greek Goddess of beauty, has been lamented in many a mankind myth or legend, told as the most beautiful creature that ever had air to breathe. I have only laid gaze upon her once, and I can swear on any human holy scripture that she is more beautiful than any words of literature can describe. No surprise then, that- of all the mortals, nymphs, and godly fellows enticed by her heavenly appearance- she attracted the attention of Poseidon, the Greek God of the Sea. Hence, in his jewel-glittering underwater palace, they consummated their affection. From their passion; a race of godly beautiful creatures that lived alongside the sea were created; the Sirens. The Sirens had a unique talent; their voices could seduce any male and put him under a trance. So, with the teaching of Asclepius, Greek God of medicine, the Sirens utilized their gift by using it to treat the sick and wounded; by putting them under the spell, they felt no pain. And for centuries, we lived in this harmony; the grass on the earth grew lush and green, the sea bore succulent fish for us to eat, the Sun shined everyday but our skin did not burn, and at night, we slept under the stars, since no cold winter wind had any effect on us. Our children played in the fields, while the elders grew wise and contempt. In return, we gave offerings of flowers and wheat to the Gods; no blood sacrifice was spilt by our hand. We were fearless of old age, of sickness, and of death. For we are immortal; and we would carry on in our paradise of sunshine, until the end of time.
Then came the men.
Though we were curious of the outside world, we never dared to venture beyond our island. But one faithful day, which began seemingly no different to any other, young Hali, was picking flowers from the climbing vines scaling the cliffs when she sighted ships as huge as mountains on the horizon. She ran to our home, pointing to the horizon and shrieking with excitement. We rushed to our shore where armour-clad men had landed, some heavily wounded, some sickly with scurvy. With charity and hospitality, we welcomed them with open arms. We showed them our healing powers, treating their injuries and teaching them how simple fruits and foods could cure the most terrible illnesses.
Witches. That’s what they called us. They drew their swords of steel and cut our sisters down like wheat. We ran away, screaming in a terror we had never known before. But still the men pursued us relentlessly, riding upon the backs of these wild, four-legged beasts. Eventually, the last of us were cornered in a cave. They bound us in chains like animals and dragged us away to their boats. In the stinking hold, we comforted each other and prayed through quavering voices that Poseidon would conjure a ferocious storm to wreck the ships and drown the murderers. But in an unluckily calm crossing, the boats sailed to another island, ruled by the ruthless King Silius. As the soldiers dragged us through the port, people stopped in their footsteps and gawked in shock; mothers shielding their offspring as if we could bring harm upon them. I bowed my head in shame. We were brought to the King’s palace, a great monument of beige stone, and forced to kneel before the King himself. He sat upon his throne and eyed us with disgust. Beside him, sat his son; the immortal Ambrose, the one you saw serve Callista. The King ordered us to be locked away in the dungeon.
In our cell, we met Callista, the last Gorgon, and daughter of one Medusa’s sisters. For days, we huddled together- since for the first time we felt the icy breath of cold creeping upon our skin- and wept for those slain by man. Then, we were brought before the King once more, to be witnessed by his entire court; women with grotesque faces and waists so thin they looked like hourglasses, while the men were so large there was wonder in how they could walk. As the doors swung open, the women gasped and fainted at the sights of our bare frames until the King, revolted, ordered us to be given peasant rags to wear. When Teresea refused to wear such lowly clothing, one of the guards threw her to the ground and beat her with a horse-whip. She has always despised humanity the most since then. However, in our cell, we had plotted our escape. As the King inspected us, we lifted our heads and begun to sing. Before they had time to react, the whole court was trapped under our spell. Yet as the drew to the sound like moths to a flame, Callista stepped in front and, with each glance of her fiery eyes, each one was turned to stone, caught in a never-ending scream. Except Ambrose, who cowered like a dog upon the marble steps of his father’s throne. However, no matter how she tried, his ribs still rattled against his frenzied heartbeat. Then, our wise Althea realized, because he is blind, the stare of the Gorgons could not affect him, since those black pupils were no longer the windows to his soul. Eventually, Teresea, whom was so furious the blood beneath her skin seemed to burn and turn her complexion red, prised a sword from a stone soldier and held it to his neck. Callista stopped her. Ambrose knelt before the Gorgon and pleaded for mercy. He took the ring from his finger, gave it to Callista and swore upon his life that, if we let him live, he would serve her until the end of her days, or upon release. Callista ordered he help us escape and by the dark of the night, we slipped from the castle and rowed away down the river. Though we had hoped to find sanctuary elsewhere, we were shunned wherever we journeyed. And as we travelled, we watched humanity in its lifelong punishment; babies slowly starving themselves to death as they refused to suckle milk, children stood at crossroads in the pouring rain, little hands outstretched as they begged every traveller to pass for a morsel of food, and people forced to toil in barren fields through the days and nights, earning only enough pennies to afford a loaf of bread. And for all this we witnessed unwittingly, we felt intensely in our heavy hearts. Many fell sick to human disease and died, buried alongside the road on which they fell. So at last the surviving six came to live on the island on Loch Morar, away from the prying eyes of human activity and for centuries we have lured sailors to their death as revenge for our relatives’ murders.”
I watched as sea green tears travelled down her cheeks, I leaned towards Calliope and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. “How many ov’ya are there?” I asked her. She gave me a wicked look and said “I already told you how many of my own kind there are, you’ve seen every last one in that cave. There are many other creatures lurking in this world, just right for the right moment to either kill you humans are use you for their own purposes. There are not many creatures left who appreciate human life, humans are so cruel to those who are different.” I smiled gave her a comforting smile “Not all humans are so heartless, calliope. Even some of us humans are outcasts in our own kind.” She nodded and said “I should get home.” I put my hand o n her forearm and said “Humans are cruel; I know that but just remember not all humans are cruel. Will I see you again?” she smiled at me and her blue eyes twinkled “If your lucky.” With that she took of into the water and I watched her fade into the darkness. I stood and made my way home. I walked through the door and got a hard slap around my face. Maw stood in front of me with a blotchy red face, as if she had been crying. Her blue eyes looked red a sore and her hair looked all messy. Sat at the table were Isla, Mrs McDonane and my sister’s Bonnie, Chrissie and Maggie. Bonnie’s blonde hair was in a neat blonde pony tail and her bright blue eyes looked red and tired, Chrissie had blood all over his face from one of her many stress nose bleeds and Maggie looked really mad and Isla’s face and eyes were as bad as me maw’s. “What’s wrong with everyone?”
Me maw got up from the kitchen table and walked up to me. She rose her hand and slapped me hard across my face. “Where in gods name have you been?! It’s 11pm! The last time anyone saw you was at 11am and it was John Wiggerman who told us! Where were you!?”
“I went down to the beach.”
“For bloody twelve hours. That’s rubbish Kade!” Isla yelled at me. She had tears flowing from her eyes and looked really mad.
“I fell asleep!” I yelled back.
“Then why do you look so tired, Kade?” Bonnie asked
“Because the dumb twit overslept.” Mrs McDonane told bonnie.
“Stop ganging up on me!” I yelled and then stormed up the stairs.

After a while someone knocked on my door. Well I say knocked but it was more like a tap. “Hello?” I asked the tap.
The door slowly crept open and the first thing I saw was fiery red curls. “I just wanted to come and say hello before we went home.”
I smiled at her and she walked in and stood beside my bed. I took hold of her arm and pulled her down onto the bed. She lied down beside me and said “You really scared us.”
I pulled her closer to me, so that her head was on my chest. “I know. I’m sorry.”
She nodded and snuggled in closer to me. I gently stroked her hair and watched her fall asleep.
At some point I must have fell asleep because Isla woke me up by getting off the bed. “Are you okay?”
I watched as she jumped and made a little shrieking noise. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I was but you getting off the bed woke me up. Where are you going?”
“Home.”
I glanced at my digital watch. “Isla, honey, its 3am you can’t walk home at this time of the night. Come back to bed.”
She nodded and got back into my bed. Except this time she slipped under the covers.
Chapter 5


I woke up and Isla wasn’t there anymore. I glanced at my watch. 4am, so she hasn’t been gone long. Did she walk home on her own? I got out of bed and got my shoes on. I carefully walked down the stairs and out the back door and started walking towards the Siren’s call. Kind of strange that the pubs called The Siren’s Call and we have Siren’s living on our dock. Maybe the people that owned the pub before the McDonane’s new Sirens. I must of got half way to the pub when I heard someone calling me.

“Kade! Please come!” the voice was soft and musical.
I carried on walking towards the pub when I heard.

“You are my dearest lover,
With me to the very end,
You must come and be with me,
So we can live happily after,
You have captured all my heart,
now I must capture yours,
Come with me to my home,
So I can keep you forever”

I walked towards the voice and kept walking until I saw her stood on the beach. I saw her blonde hair shining under the moon and I knew…
I love her. I love my dearest Calliope.
I walked towards her with my arms out stretched almost like a zombie. I whispered through a dreamy voice that didn’t seem my own; “Calliope. How I’ve missed you.”
“As I have missed you.” Her voice sounded strange but that didn’t matter.
All that matters is that she is here and I love her.
With each step my boot sunk deeper into the wet sand. Drawing to a close enough distance I reached out to touch the golden, starlit veil of hair that draped her shoulders. All of a sudden, the intoxicating voice turned into one that was as dark and thunderous as a brewing storm;
“Do not touch me!”
Slowly, she turned her face to me.
I was deceived. Teresea.
She curled her finger and beckoned me to her. I didn't want to follow but that singing is just so beautiful. My feet where moving closer too her.
My Teresea, My beautiful Teresea. Calliope doesn't matter anymore. Only Teresea matters. "Come with me." My beautiful Teresea told me.

Impressum

Texte: me and Sophie Mander
Lektorat: Sophie Mander
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 03.02.2012

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Widmung:
The only person i ever dedicate books to, wrote this book with me. Thank you soph for helping me write this book!