Siren of the Dead (Chapter 2)

Siren of the Dead

Chapter 2

Life, if you could call it that, returned to normal for the siren. She floated aimlessly through the graveyard, having memorized the entire grounds after being there for so long. The child watched her beloved grave keeper Maurice go through multiple apprentices. All were far too frightened of the haunted winds that brushed their faces and tugged at their clothes. Most of his underlings wouldn’t last more than a few weeks, until now.

The siren would watch him from afar with wonder at his progress, he had lasted an entire season thus far and she'd hardly heard him say a single word. He was tall and lean with tan skin and brown hair. The apprentice constantly had a stern expression that only enhanced his piercing eyes. He had broad shoulders and callused hands from his newfound profession.

The siren was daring to hope. Maurice was much nicer to this boy than the previous ones. Perhaps because he didn't feel the need to fill the eerie silence of the night with nervous babble. Maurice was getting on in years, his face was haggard and what few teeth he still had were crooked and yellow. His breath was as rotted as the corpses he cared for and he stank of alcohol and cheap tobacco. His clothes were tattered and his shoes in need of new soles. Yet the siren adored him all the same. He may be stubborn and crude but he was still the mortal who cared for her resting place.

However, his aging made her sad. She could remember when he'd first started his job as the grave keeper. His father had left it to him in his will. The son had to dig his own father's grave, causing him to be bitter and solitary. He only drifted to town once a week to stock up on supplies and hear the latest news. The siren hoped that this new apprentice would take Maurice's place when he died.

Days, weeks, and months passed and still the siren only watched the unlikely pair from afar. She often hid behind gravestones and statues, peeking out from behind to observe them. They often worked in silence except for the occasional grunt of exertion or the gruff reprimand from Maurice to his new apprentice.

When the clock tower struck three, the two would part ways. Maurice would gather his shovels and meander up the path to his shack and the lad would walk downhill to return to his home in town.

As per custom, the young siren would alternate between following Maurice home or the apprentice. When she chose Maurice, she would float amiably beside him. She would sing softly of the father who left him his occupation and the mother that had followed suit through sickness. The wind would cease its cool temperature and merely nudge the debris on the ground. Occasionally, the lack of breeze would bother her grave keeper and she'd sing louder. Often of the victims of brutal murders or the pain of a grieving mother. He would reach his tool shed and place the rusted instruments inside, lock the doors and shuffle to his doorstep. It was here that the siren would float before his unseeing eyes and whisper prayers of safety and good fortune into his ears. He'd only shudder and tighten his cloak about him as he stepped inside.

Her following of the apprentice was sneakier and short lived. She'd hide behind grave stones and leap through the branches of the trees. The many houses before the graveyard were dark and silent with their slumbering patrons inside. She'd follow him to the iron gate before falling back and murmuring a prayer of protection. The wind would grow stronger and gently caress his hair. He would only increase his pace in response.

-

One night in the crisp air of autumn, the siren grew brave. She descended from her mausoleum roof and floated beside the apprentice as he toiled at digging a grave. She watched the way his mouth curved into a frown and his eyebrows furrowed into a look of concentration. Maurice was a few yards away, fruitlessly raking a pile of leaves in the rare occasion of his trying to keep the area tidy.

The siren settled to sit on a headstone to the right of plot, picking at the hem of her skirt. Her eyes fell closed as she listened to the rhythmic sounds of Maurice's rake grating against the cobblestones and the crackle of the autumn leaves beneath the prongs. The grainy sound of the dirt giving beneath the metal of the shovel and the clang of when it would hit a rock. She kicked her legs and licked her lips, opening her eyes to turn and give the apprentice a closer look. The redhead started as she realized the boy had ceased his work and was staring at her in surprise.

They stayed that way for a tense moment, she felt fear course through her long still veins and she could read the uncertainty and fright in his own eyes. Maurice's voice shattered the silence.

"Whaddya think you're doin' boy? Get back to work you lazy bum!"

The boy didn't show a sign of hearing the old man's words. He simply continued to stare at the transparent girl sitting on the headstone to his right. He swallowed convulsively and his mouth felt dry as his mouth finally closed. She in turn bit her bottom lip in nervousness and she stepped forward.

"Can…can you see me?"

"Yes." His voice was husky and weak, his grip on the handle caused his knuckles to turn white.

The siren only stared at him before feeling the sensation of being moved. She watched in confusion as Maurice marched right through her and whacked the boy on the head with the handle of his garden tool.

"Who the hell are you talkin' to Luke?"

At this, the siren squeaked and dissipated into thin air. The apprentice, Luke, shook his head as if to clear the image of her from his mind.

"No one sir."

"Thought so. Now get back to work I won't pay ya!"

Luke obeyed.