SIREN STORY SURGE continues! You can read about how it started here.

Please welcome our 4th SIREN AUTHOR, Kasten Hidalgo, who says this line describes her best: "You're only as happy as you feel, so sing that song out loud and cry in the rain with me!"

Photo by Brooke Shaden

Siren Story NUMBER 4 by Kasten Hidalgo

Maybe it was the collar on my neck. It itched. It always itched. I couldn’t shake off the feeling. What was different? I lifted my head to look through the small gap between the flat metal bars. I could see the embers in the campfire glowing softly. I stretched my legs forward, my feet touching the cool metal. I lowered my head and covered my eyes with both my hands, the light hurt my eyes, I keep forgetting that. My mind wandered again, the feeling of something that has changed. I looked down at my palms; they were starting to get dry again. I hated waiting for morning and sticking my hand out through the slot for the palm full of water when I feel like it isn’t as scarce as the one they call Philippe makes it seem. 

My back tingles at the thought of him. A hum vibrates slightly in the back of my throat and I control it enough for it not to unbalance the levels on my collar; that is an all too familiar pain. Philippe stares, always staring through the metal bars. He was the one who placed the collar on my neck. That was the last and only time he has touched me, and the only touch that makes me dare to hum. 

But something was different. Philippe had fallen asleep near the embers as usual. The other men keep their distance as they were warned of me, their eyes darting from the cage he keeps me in. I try again and look around the campfire. I don’t see Philippe. My eyes flit back and forth the furthest the embers shine light. It’s empty; abandoned. No, that can’t be right. I get on my knees, no, no, this can’t be right. My nose rubbing against the metal and I follow the gap to its length, to find someone, anyone, Philippe. 

A small cry escapes me and immediately I regret it, the collar shoots its venom into my neck stabbing the back of my throat with a fire that water cannot subside. I bite my tongue as I have done several times in the past always a wonder how I still have one. Tears burn my eyes and blur my vision as I continue to search through the gaps. 

How? Why? When? I have heard Philippe say that I was a prize to be shown. So where have they gone? The embers are now dying quickly, the wind catching their heat away. I cannot calm myself now. I cannot find comfort in the metal cage that has become my home. I lift the slot where I get my water in hopes for a wider view. I see only the mass of darkness growing larger as the campfire shrinks. NO! The voice in my head pounds through the metal walls. Venom pierces my throat as I grunt and scramble to reach the lock through the slot. NO! I say again. 

“NO!!” she echoes back to me.

P.S.: This is the 4th Siren Story. If you want to indulge in more sirenness, here is Siren Story NUMBER 1, Siren Story NUMBER 2, and Siren Story NUMBER 3.