{#907 You are the main attraction at an old timey carnival side show}

I was born a siren eighty miles off the coast of the Emerald Isle. The waters were cold, but my beauty was a flame that kept me warm. I swam wherever I wanted, only mindful of the big wooden ships steaming out for America every day. I batted my tail up sometimes, quick as a hiccup, making the sailors wonder if they saw anything at all. Maybe it was just the glimmer of the sun on the water. Maybe they missed their girl already. I dreamed of having sparkling jewelry made of diamonds and sapphires, not these devoid of color pearls. I wanted legs to dance on. I wanted a life on land.

There was one way to obtain it. I could trade my fin forever by luring a man to his death. Girls did it all the time, we were known to be mesmerizing. And we would possess the same beauty on land as we did in the sea, just without our giant, beautiful tail to propel us along. We would be known as vixens.

It would be easy enough: wait for a foggy night with a still sea, begin my enchantment by singing my siren song, beckon them closer, closer, until his eyes go gooey with lust, and then catapult out of the water like I was going in for just a kiss but really going for his heart. Or his legs, be that as it may. He swims with the fishes, I’m launched onto land with the shapeliest legs a girl could ever hope for.

I had the perfect plan; it had worked for countless others for hundreds of years. What I hadn’t planned for was a captain who was more shrewd than I ever thought to be.

I had him, tall, dark, with blue eyes nearly as piercing as my own. I was “caught” in his net and as he worked to bring it aboard I pitched forward nearly into his sinewy arms. He gasped and staggered back. I flipped my mane of hair, sure to fling a few droplets in his face. He squinted, unsure it could really be what he thought he was seeing. I beckoned him closer, edging toward the side of the net to leap out. His fingers clutched the rail, mouth agape. I smiled tantalizingly over my shoulder, patiently tapping my tail like an obedient dog. I tilted my chin and arched an eyebrow. I had him! He was just throwing his leg over when a voice boomed behind him.

“What in the Sam Hell do you think you’re doing?”

“There’s a girl out there! She’s trapped in the net!” He pointed to me, where I was in a straight up tizzy trying to get out of the net. I had swam deeper than I intended and now that the net was almost out of the water I found myself quite trapped.

“Haul away!!!” the man bellowed and the creaks began as the rough net closed around me.

Needless to say I was in a dire panic. I thrashed and somersaulted and clutched at the ropes, searching frantically for a weak spot to tear through and escape. They mistook this for drowning and reinforced their labors. Moments later, I was deposited on deck, where I lay gasping.

“Well, well, well, what have we got here?” The big man walked slowly around me, smoking a pipe. I narrowed my eyes and batted my tail under his legs but he wisely moved away.

“This will do just fine, just fine. Men, put her in the front hold.” Several went off, hopefully to see to my accommodations. He regarded me with steely black eyes over a flat nose. “Can you talk?”

“Of course I kin,” I replied haughtily. By this time, I had my bearings and had propped myself as upright as possible on my forearms, my tail stretched its full length before me. My scales glinted beautifully, iridescent in the moonlight. I was most unceremoniously lifted and carried away by men who reeked of stale pipe smoke and dead fish. My tail dragged painfully across the splintered boards of the ship deck. They dumped me in a hole, filled with chilly seawater. I barely had room to turn around.

Three days later, we made port. It had been full steam ahead since they made their catch, and for that I was grateful. The door was always bolted and latched, they were taking no chances with me seducing them to their drowning deaths, or propelling myself out. But that left me in the dark most always apart from the few moments it took to throw food down. The dashing figure I had almost lured overboard went around with a look of shock, occasionally tossing me some morsel or another. I just bided my time. As long as I was near water, there was a chance of escape. It would be a long swim back, but maybe I could catch a ride with a pod of whales. The men only spoke to leer at me, no kind words were forthcoming. They fed me a varying diet of boiled seaweed and sardines. I was feeling a little green around the gills. It was most disgraceful.

The port was a flurry of activity, everyone bustling around, children and old folks alike jostling to get a peek at me. I hid my face in my hair, but there was nothing to be done about my tail. That was what they were there to see, anyway. I understood I was sold prior to being unloaded to a man with the circus. He regarded me from above my hold in his top hat and spectacles. The bearded man negotiated for some time, and once they reached an agreement, they shook hands and smiled.

Still I waited.

My tail began to fade, it was now as lackluster as the pearls at my neck. It used to be as green as the grass on the Isle. My water grew stagnant, now that it wasn’t being circulated through the voyage. Algae grew up the walls of my enclosure. I longed for the open sea. How stupid of me to desire legs! Now I had lost both lives.

Finally, finally they hoisted me out and into a new enclosure. It was much bigger and took a team of twelve to pull it. It had beautiful shimmering curtains all the way around for privacy and I could swim three lengths without hitting a wall. Compared to my former prison, this was a palace. I swam jubilantly back and forth as the horses snorted and pulled the burden of my new home through the forest.

I was made a spectacle. There were posters with my likeness in every town where we stopped. I kept alert for the smell of the sea, but we were far inland. Children sucked their thumbs and regarded me with wonder, men raised their eyebrows and their browbeaten housewives would pull them back by the arms when they got too close. I batted my eyes and twisted my tail and prayed for Poseidon to intervene.

One day, about two years into this gig, a group of women stood at the back of the crowd, whispering to each other behind handkerchiefs. I recognized them immediately. They were sirens, too. Except now they had their legs.

And they would find a way to save me. I just had to wait.