Siren Song

On a perfect, clear sky night in Connemara, Ireland. A small house stood near the beach. Inside the small house was a Grandfather, tucking in his grandson in bed. Yet, like always. The Grandfather must tell a bedtime story to the young grandson.

“Mermaids live in the deep blue! They sing ye a song, that makes ye want to do things that ye have never done before. Their beautiful tails seem to be amazing until ye come close! Their hair will cover their faces, allowing ye to see pearls along their foreheads, and when ye lean down to kiss one of the fish creatures, they’ll drag ye deep below! And ye’ll never be seen again!” The old man exclaimed as the boy gasped and fell back.

The little boy peeked up behind the bed. He saw his Grandfather putting the book down. The Grandfather climbed back on the bed and looked towards his grandson. He patted the bed for the small boy climbed over and smiled towards his Papa. The Grandfather saw the pearl bracelet near the small boy's mother's picture.

“Do you really believe in them, Papa?” The small boy asked.

The Grandfather sighed and looked towards the picture of the woman. His eyes teared up then back towards the small boy.

“Aye,” He replied as the boy smiled and Grandfather tucked him in the bed. “Why do ye think we named ye river?” The Grandfather asked.

“Because you're a fisherman,” The boy replied with a giggle. The Grandfather smiled down at the boy as he pushed back the boy's red hair who groaned.

“Why do you believe in them?”

“Believe in what Aibne?”

“The mermaids, Papa.”

“I saw them!” The Grandfather exclaimed. The boy jumped and looked towards his Grandfather.

“I saw them, the night of the great storm, or what Americans call it over there hurricanes. The fish people were swimming around, cheering for their king to keep the storm going, they cheered for one to fall off that bloody boat! They flipped around, their tails glowing in the storm, singing their blasted song. But I was the one who could keep my head straight, ye see Aibne, ye keep these,” The Grandfather passed the boy a pair of silver earrings. “They’ll leave ye alone.”

“Why is that?” The boy asked as he grabbed the earrings and looked them over. The Grandfather chuckled and tucked the boy in and smiled at the young male.

“Because they can’t touch silver, no creature can. It burns them, allows them to lose the one thing they need. For werewolves it's their wolf forms, vampires it's their fangs, faires their wings, and mermaids, it’s their tails Aibne. If a mermaid doesn't have their tail, then it can’t swim. A non-swimming mermaid is a dead mermaid.” His Grandfather whispered.

The boy gasped as the Grandfather smiled and kissed the boy's forehead.

“Get some sleep Aibne, ye have school in the morning.” The Grandfather replied.

He shut off the light. The Grandfather turns back to smile at his grandson who was holding onto the earrings, smiling at them.