The Siren

I had not noticed her. All morning I had been sitting on the beach, mesmerised by the waves as they rolled in, listening to the almost hypnotising sound of the wind and water. 

I must have looked away, captivated by the flight of a pelican over the wave crests, or of a frigate bird soaring high in the clouds above. Or perhaps I'd been distracted by some scantily clad bather walking by.

But there she was, standing in the waves that broke about her. A long red dress clung wet to her body, her arms folded across her ample breasts, her long hair hanging limp.

Her eyes were hollow but eerily piercing. One could not tell what she saw, no more than one could know what she thought. She was simply standing there with the breakers washing over her. Almost defiant; challenging the world.

She was diminutive in size but large in presence. Alone and seemingly out of place and unknown on that beach. The waves were her security as they embraced her.

Later, I would learn that her heart and her mind had both been dashed. The father of her infant child had abandoned her and taken the baby far away, There was, perhaps, good reason for this; but it had left a young woman standing alone and cursing a world that was no longer hers. The sea her protector now.

I never saw this woman again, although I would return to that beach many times.