Young Writers Society

*This story is underneath my folder titled “Siren’s Desire”. Gacha Club character designs are under my forum titled “My character designs<33”. Enjoy!*

Israfel Armani pulled up the sails, ignoring how the sun slightly blinded his eyes and how sweat dripped down his forehead. It was work, but the kind that would lead to a glittering reward.

Once the sails were up, he joined the rest of his family as they rowed away. His Mom, Dad, and little seven year old sister, Eve, were all sailing along the waves.

Their sailboat wasn’t much, but it would be enough to take them to the treasure that would wait in a cave. They explored new caves every single day, in hopes to strike it rich.

It all started three years ago, when Israfel was thirteen and Eve was four. Mom and Dad had gotten the bright idea of trying to go out on voyages for treasure, just like in the legends of their seaside town, Moon’s Beach, named after how the moon reflected on the water the way a diamond would split into rainbow colors from sunlight. Nighttime was truly a gem at Moon’s Beach, a sight to behold.

In Israfel’s humble thoughts, he didn’t think that they would ever find treasure, but it was still nice to be out on sea, to smell the salted water and take in all of the scenery. Even if they didn’t find any treasure and they were out in the bothersome daylight, at least he was with family and out in the boundless sea.

“Land ho!” Eve cried out, pointing to a looming, dark cave of which the foaming white of the ocean crashed against.

The sailboat sped up with their frantic-paced rowing as they all reached closer to the cave, to the possibility of glittering stones that could bring them all a fortune.

………………………………………………

“Found anything yet?” Mom called out. Her voice echoed into a million other ones, and Israfel couldn’t help but smile at how vast the cave they were standing in was. It wouldn’t be so bad to live in one, to be away from the screams and screeches of life.

“No!” Dad replied, his voice holding a note of disappointment.

Israfel looked over to Eve, who was standing right next to him. Their parents went off to different sides, but he and Eve always stayed together. He tried arguing with them before about splitting up, but they said that it was better for them to find more treasure.

Eve’s green eyes were weary, she kept licking at her lips as if to keep herself from being parched. Her black hair that flowed from her ponytail was speckled with the sand that blew in the wind. Her small, pale hands were worn with scars and slightly raw from moving around rocks and rowing boats all the days.

It was hard work, what they did. Though a pleasure to go out with family to sea, he did wish that Eve got less of the brunt part.

“You can drink the water, you know.” Israfel said.

“But what if it‘s dirty?” Eve asked, her eyes seeming to question his words.

To show her, Israfel scooped up a bit of water from the cave and drank it for himself. It tasted crystal clear, free of any tarnishes.

“Tastes pretty fine to me!” Israfel said with a smile.

Eve began to crack a grin on her face as she lifted the water to her lips. Israfel continued searching in the rocks, but at least Eve was able to get her drink.

………………………………………………

Israfel lay on the sand, letting the waves of the ocean lap at his feet. It had been hours since his family had gone on another unsuccessful hunt for treasures. The day had passed on into night, and the four of them were back home in their one room house.

Every night, Israfel snuck out to lay on the beach, just to have a moment to himself. He would wake up Eve if she wasn’t so deep in sleep. Their house was a lot more comfortable with one person gone, anyway.

The night was the same as all of the other nights. The ocean waves rustled, the moonlight reflected, and Israfel was lying on the sand in his cotton nightshirt and pants, his feet bare.

Except, there was a figure standing by the water. The figure’s fingers would twitch ever so slightly, but that was the only movement Israfel saw.

He got up from the sand and began to approach the figure. Who were they? What were they doing out so late? What were they so interested in?

When he got close enough, he saw that the figure was a girl with blond, curly hair that flowed over her peach-toned face. Her green eyes were a lighter shade than his own and a darker shade than Eve’s. She wore a black nightgown, which dropped to the ground and over her wrists as if she were hiding away a bony, corpse-like body.

“I come out here every night. I live here. But what are you doing here?” Israfel asked, uncertain if she would even answer him.

The girl smiled softly and brushed her blond curls behind her ears, then bent down to the level of the water.

From her voice, there flowed a song:

“My mother, my father, and me

We are a family of witches three

We live very close to the sea

For the sea is where our power will flow free

For the longest time I hid in my home

But tonight, I wished to go out on my own

I hope I don’t bother you, dear boy

I only wanted to go out for some joy”

She then got up from the ground, and when she did, a string of water followed her extended right hand, as if the water itself were a ghost that trusted her beyond human perception.

Israfel watched in amazement as the string of water danced with the movements of her right hand, then her left hand, then both, until she finally let go and let it rest back in the waves.

“I’m Isadora Winston, and I felt like coming out to the beach tonight. Forgive me if my voice sounds a little off pitch, we witches speak easier in song.” Isadora said.

Her voice did in fact sound like it was delving a fine line between the echoing of a cave and the trill tapping of a piano, as though it were wavering between human and celestial, but Israfel didn’t mind. He had never met someone like her before, and he wasn’t sure if he would ever see her again. Isadora may have had her fair share of people who wanted to hurt her for what she was. It wasn’t like she asked to be a witch, so why look to pick a fight? She must have had feelings just like any other person.

“In that case, it’s my humble pleasure to meet you, Isadora. My name is Israfel. Israfel Armani. Your magic is truly a spectacular gift, and I hope that you cherish it forever. There’s much beauty in the world, and the presence of witches is part of it.” Israfel said, bending in a bow for her.

Though Isadora was dressed in a simple nightgown, he felt her power radiate all around her, and thought it appropriate to bow for her. Isadora chuckled lightly and sing-sang:

“Israfel, you need not bow to me. But why, I ask, do you like us witches out by the sea?”

He got up from the bow, brushing back a strand of his black hair. The cool air was always a little strong from the crashing of the waves, but he never wanted to tie it up or cut it away. It felt too much like a restriction, it didn’t let his hair flow freely.

That being said, he had to keep brushing it away, but that was alright. As long as he could see the beach. As long as he could see Isadora.

“I’m not sure if I like any of you, because I never met one of you until now. But I don’t think that your kind deserves to be harmed. You know things about the world that we do not, and that is to be respected.” Israfel said.

Isadora cocked her head, her green eyes speckled with sadness, and she asked:

“Would you ever love a creature such as I? Or do you think that I am better off far and wide?”

Love? She was asking about love? Respect and love were two different things, but then, why would she want to seek love from him, a mere, magicless human? A future with her wouldn’t be so bad, but what was the point of imagining a life with her if he didn’t know her soul?

“You seem to be a delightful person, but I don’t know much about you, as you do not know much about me. If we were to see each other again, then we might fall in love.” Israfel said.

Isadora got her head back upright, and her lips turned up ever so subtly into a smile. He’d miss it if he wasn’t really looking at her face.

“Very well then. I’ll be out here every night, practicing my magic, and I’ll see you then, Israfel.” Isadora said.

He knew that he was supposed to go back home, but he didn’t move. Neither did she. The two of them were staring at each other, their green eyes looking back at another, studying every line in the irises and sclera, just like the different colors from the light of the moon, until after what felt an eternity melded together, Isadora left, and Israfel felt free to go home.

………………………………………………

As he did since he was a little boy, Israfel snuck off to the beach every night. The only difference was that he wasn’t doing it to see the moon. He was doing it to see Isadora, who had an essence about her that was more fantastical than the moon had ever been.

They sometimes told each other secrets by the sea. Other times, Isadora took Israfel off to the pier, where they would sing songs by the rocking boats. Isadora would tell him all about her days of perfecting her magic with her parents, working to get better and better as her birthdays came and went. In exchange, he would tell her about their modest life in getting what they could at the local markets, and their search for treasure to change their lives for the greater good.

Though the possibility of finding real treasure was as vast as the ocean, love between Israfel and Isadora was becoming as real as life itself.

At first, they were faeries that whipped in and out of sight. A breathtaking beauty to behold, but too disconnected to be considered with any ounce of humanity. Then, they were friends who would huddle close and giggle about the ridiculousness of life.

But one night, as they both sat on the pier, Isadora turned his head towards hers, and as she held his face with both hands, she sang:

“Israfel, oh Israfel, I love you so!

Your endearing presence makes my heart glow!

Is it alright that I steal a kiss?

You may do whatever you wish.”

She loved him? No, she was…in love with him? She saw value in him to be someone to spend her life with, someone to give her whole soul to?

“You’re in love with me?” Israfel asked, just to be sure he wasn’t overthinking anything.

Isadora nodded vigorously, her eyes alight with excitement. In that moment, she seemed just like any other human he would meet on the street, and not like a witch with powers above human understanding.

“I love you too. You’re more than your magic, you are a girl with much happiness to give, and I shall do the same for you.” Israfel said with a grin.

Isadora didn’t open her mouth for another song and instead kissed him on the lips, to which he kissed back, holding her closer than he ever did before, as if at any moment, she would disintegrate into dust.

………………………………………………

It was another day at a new cave. His parents were split up, searching for treasure. Israfel and Eve were on their own side, doing the same. Both of their hands were worn down from rowing the boat and searching, yet they persisted in their journey of finding treasure. Eve because she was too young to be on her own, Israfel because he kept telling himself that they were all a family, they loved each other, it was fun, the sea was wonderful, and they were going to find treasure one day.

Eve had grown particularly thirsty during their journey, and she couldn’t hold out much longer, as she was growing lightheaded, and the world before her was starting to look too distant, like a dream in which she was floating far, far away from.

She sipped the water from the cave just as Israfel told her to, but instead, she fell by his side, her eyes shut closed.

Israfel looked at the brown, dirt-speckled line of water that flowed from Eve’s mouth and out at the muddied water of the cave. He could still feel her breathing weakly, but she was hanging by a thread.

He scooped her up and carried her off to their parents, for they all had to leave at once.

………………………………………………

They had all made it back home just in time, Israfel holding Eve’s hand by her cot as she lay. Dad was out in market, searching for medicine, while Mom was spoon-fed Eve any medicine that she could find.

Nothing seemed to work. Eve was growing more sickly by the second, and all Israfel could think was: I should have been watching her more closely, I should have been watching her more closely, I should have been watching her more closely…

When Mom left to search the shelves for more medicine, Israfel whispered in Eve’s ear:

“I’m sorry I didn’t watch you close enough. This is my fault, and I should have stopped this.”

Eve only smiled and squeezed his hand tighter, trailing out haggardly:

“I’ll…get…better.”

Israfel bit his bottom lip, stopping himself from bawling out. He couldn’t let Eve see him sob, or else she’d begin to break. Before she looked worn out, but in that moment, she looked so skeletal, like she could barely hold onto the threads of life.

Was it even possible that she’d live to see another day?

………………………………………………

During the whole day, Israfel tried to come up with ways to make Eve feel better, to give her back her health. Mom and Dad had not found any medicines that worked, and Eve’s condition was starting to worsen by the minute.

Late into the night, Israfel told his parents that he would sail over to the next town to see if they had any medicine. But he didn’t sail over.

He went straight to Isadora, who waited not by the pier, but right by the water, where they first met. He did not tell his family anything of her, for how would they react if they knew that witches were real? They’d hold onto the false hope that treasure would be found, and that would be far more cruel than the secret he was keeping close to his beating heart.

When he reached Isadora in her sky blue nightgown, he interlocked his hands with hers, and in a shaking voice that trembled with his tears, he implored:

“My…my little sister…Eve…she’s sick…please…can you heal her? Can you help her?”

Isadora didn’t let go of him. Her hands held on tighter to his, and she said in her singing, melodic voice:

“There is a potion that can cure all ailments. Hold on, and I will help thee.”

Israfel did as she asked, holding onto her hands. Purple, bruise-colored smoke began to swell around them, until the beach was becoming no more, until, until…

Until they were in front of a quaint, white-painted home that looked like it housed more than one room.

Isadora let go of Israfel’s hands and walked up the steps to the house, leaving the door open for him. He followed closely and waited as she went into what looked liked the kitchen, the intense opening and shoving of cabinets and drawers heard from the parlor room, where he stood.

From how she seemed to know where to go, he deduced that the home was hers, and that her parents were in one of the rooms, sleeping soundly.

There wasn’t anything too marvelous about the house, yet he felt warmed by the single candlestick burning by the window, by the presence of soft furniture in the house, by the fact that the house was far off from other houses, and…

And what was that rattling noise? It was faint, but he still heard it coming from upstairs, the rattling of chains against a hardwood floor. It was a jarring sound to hear in such a soft, gentle house.

Yet Israfel found himself going up the stairs, following the sound of the chains.

Finally, when the chains were loud enough to pass as despairing struggles for life, Israfel stopped. He turned towards a pink-painted door, like the door of an open-hearted person’s bedroom, where the chain sounds were coming from. There was a slot on the door of which one could pull up, like a tiny window.

He walked up to the door and pulled up the slot, his heart racing with pure, growing terror as he anticipated what waited on the other side.

It was Isadora, all chained up, a gag over her mouth. Her green eyes were wide as she tried to wriggle out of her chains.

But then, it wasn’t Isadora, because underneath her white gown there was breathing. There was the outline of a jagged, sharp-toothed mouth where her stomach was supposed to be. The magical air around the girl felt frantic and frenzied, as though it were on the edge of simmering into pure malice.

“Israfel?!” Isadora’s voice asked sharply.

Israfel turned around. There was Isadora in her blue nightgown, holding a small brown bottle.

Israfel pointed his thumb towards the door, new feelings of great, growing disgust splashing over him.

“Who is that girl and why is she all chained up? Why does she look like you?” Israfel asked.

For a moment, he wondered if Isadora would place a curse on him, given how her whole body tensed up, how her eyes became stoic and without the gentleness that he had become so used to.

But she only said in a smooth, clear-cut voice:

“That’s my twin sister, Elvira. She was not only born with immeasurable power that could change the makeup of living things and objects, but she has a second, monstrous mouth on her stomach. She frightens people, so we keep her in here.”

Israfel turned around, back towards the door. How could anyone lock their own sibling up because of what others thought? How could they shove them away into a dark corner like that? Eve was on the edge of dying as they stood, and-

Eve! He still had to heal her!

Israfel ran towards Isadora and tried to pry the bottle out of her hands, but she didn’t let go. She held onto his hands and took him back home. Only then she let go of the bottle and he ran off to his house.

………………………………………………

The potion worked like a charm. Eve was back to herself once more, in an instant, and his parents thanked Israfel vehemently for finding medicine in the next town.

He smiled and accepted their words, keeping his mouth shut about Isadora and Elvira, lest he doom his whole family to the wrath of a witch.

Isadora didn’t return to the beach the next night. Or the night after that. Or the night after that. She didn’t come back, so he stopped going out at night, for the waves had begun to look like menacing, ghoulish beings and not the gliding shadows he had grown to love.

His parents stopped going out to sea after what happened with Eve, and the family did things together in town, like go on picnics and take walks on the shop-decorated streets. Eve didn’t blame Israfel for the water incident, saying that it was “an accident” and that she was “happy he helped her”.

As long as Eve was healthy and in good spirits, that was enough for Israfel. As long as his family was alright, that was perfect for him.

For a few weeks, life had been as serene as a laid-out, glass blanket lake. Israfel and the rest of his family were more connected than they had ever been before.

Then Prince Rhian Bamford came for his yearly summer vacation to Moon’s Beach. He and his parents, the King and Queen, were from another town, a wealthier town. Most of Moon’s Beach residents, including the Armani family, didn’t take too kindly to the Prince vacationing there, as he never made an effort to help the town get more money, but nobody could do a thing about it, for he was the Prince, and any dissenters risked getting executed.

Everyone tended to avoid Prince Rhian unless he needed directions to get around, as he had short-term memory and often needed help in being guided around.

But on the very first night of the Prince’s vacation, Israfel made a daring move. He took off into the night, not towards the beach, but to the stone castle up on a hill that was specifically reserved for the Bamford family.

His stomach was running on the meager food from the markets and the water from the town basin, which was much cleaner than the cave water. In fact, it was the only clean thing about his side of the town.

Prince Rhian lived in a part of town where there was more wealth than the majority. It was even smaller than the actual town itself, but people loved to visit it for the beauty and completely forget about the dirtied streets just beyond their prettily decorated homes.

When he made it to the stone castle, he climbed up the walls, gripping onto the stones just as he did in caves. His arms had bruises from falling down in past endeavors, but he didn’t stop.

Eve almost died. Isadora lied to him. His whole life they all lived in a home that smelled of feces and mildew. Isadora’s house looked similar to the ones that lay just underneath the hill of the Bamford castle.

Israfel put one leg over the window and then another, landing on both feet in what appeared to be a bedroom richly decorated in velvet curtains and sparkling jewelry.

There was nobody in the room, and Israfel didn’t stop to think about it then. He simply collected the smallest things in the room, planning to bring home more the next night. If he took small things, no one would notice. Besides, his family deserved all of the Bamford’s riches. They were going to get treasure, and he would be the one to give it to them.

Israfel threw the objects and the jewelry out of the window, and then, he jumped out, holding onto pure hope.

He got scrapes on his skin and dirt on his thin pajamas, but he collected the items up in his arms and ran off in his hole-ridden boots and socks, ever so grateful that nobody had stopped him.

………………………………………………

Israfel had left the objects in the one room of his house with a note that said he got it all for them, and that they weren’t to tell anyone else about it. He wrote a note because if he waited to tell them all the next morning, his voice would become all too excited and unintelligible, and they’d either try to return the stuff back and risk getting executed, or they’d throw it to sea and it would be lost to the waters.

That night, there was a feeling within him that hadn’t been there a long time. A feeling of complete ecstasy, of utter freedom. It had been an insane collide of months, but he was okay. They were all okay.

He went out into the beach again. He walked along by the waves again. He took in all that nature had to offer again.

Only, what were the two figures by the ocean, kissing so deeply as they sat on the sand, never letting go of one another?

The curiosity that always lurked in Israfel bubbled up again, and he crept towards the embracing couple, anticipating just as he did when he walked up to the pink door.

He stopped. He knew both faces well. One was of the liar, one was of the money wielder. Isadora and Prince Rhian.

Had they no shame? Did Isadora never care for him at all? No, why would she? She was fine with her sister being locked up, why would she care about him?

Despite it all, he felt tears begin to brim in his eyes. How could they both be so horrible? How could such abominable human beings exist? How could they live with themselves?

Maybe they wouldn’t have to.

Israfel strode up to them both and pushed them apart, beaming from ear to ear as they hit the sand, their eyes looking up at him with surprise.

He grabbed them both by the sleeves of their clothes and dragged them off to the water, ignoring their pleas of “Let us go! Please!”. Isadora was dressed in red, with knee-high white socks and black heels. She wasn’t in a nightgown like he had normally seen her. Prince Rhian was his typical gaudy attire, Israfel didn’t pay much attention.

Isadora had gotten all dressed up for him. The fact that she put that much of an effort sold the fact that he meant more to her than Israfel. No, he didn’t mind her nightgowns. But she must have felt that it was worth it to dress more when the Prince was around than with him.

He didn’t want to hear any explanations. He didn’t want to be reasoned. His heart had enough.

Once he was in the water, he plunged their heads deep in, amused at the fact that a witch and a Prince couldn’t save themselves from drowning. He knew the water his whole life, they did not. They knew nothing but magic and money, fantasy and abundance.

He waited until the both of them stopped moving, then he turned around…

Elvira? Except, she wasn’t all chained up. Her hands were bloody, her dress was raven black, a contrast to her dove white nightgown. The gag was off of her mouth, and her eyes were stewing with hatred.

“You hath killed my sister in cold blood

Your heart now will never know love

You will sing to find your food

To eat away at other girls

And let them sink to their doom

For down in the sea you will be

If you choose to kill me and other Winston girls three

You shalt set the world to be flooded all over

An ocean of pain, caused by you, the unlucky clover”

Israfel couldn’t believe what Elvira had just said. Why was she upset over a sister that didn’t care that she was locked up? Wouldn’t she be ecstatic over Isadora’s death? How did she know what Israfel did? Did she sense it?

“Your sister didn’t love you. She-“

“She hath loved me more than anything in the world. I smell your misery, and it is a most displeasing scent. Writhe under my power, oh prying one!”

Prying? She thought that he was prying too much? Why did she love Isadora? Why did she want to curse him? Wouldn’t someone like her have sympathy? Wouldn’t she, out of all people, understand?

Yellow-mildew smoke rose from the outline of her monster mouth and her very hands. Israfel tried swimming to the surface, but he felt his legs become bound to each other, his skin melting together, his nails growing out into contorted claws.

Whatever had happened to his legs? Why did they feel so close? Whatever had she done? What…

They weren’t legs. There was a glass-like blue tail. His very fingers were long, bony claws, and when he ran a hand through his hair, it wasn’t a comforting black that reminded him of tranquil sleep, but the harsh silver of the moon, just like the moon that had hung over Israfel when he met Isadora, when he asked for help in healing Eve, and then, his curse.

Israfel’s hatred boiled back in after seeing what Elvira had done. She was no different from Isadora, who cared not that a sister of hers was locked up and that she was kissing someone else.

He swam up to Elvira’s ankle and grabbed her, pulling her into the depths of the ocean.

Elvira grinned at him and asked in a taunting tone:

“Giving into your monster nature so soon? Pitiful.”

She laughed in her high voice, and the mouth on her stomach laughed in a baritone, but Israfel didn’t stop. Not once. Not until he had finished eating every piece of her flesh, drinking in all of her blood.

Not until she was nothing more than a skeleton with hair that hung desperately on the skull.

………………………………………………

Israfel used to wander in the ocean, aimless and starving, unable to sing and lure girls to the ocean that went on and on and on.

Well, that lasted for a few months. He succumbed to his urges one day, and from that day on, he didn’t look back. He didn’t think. He just sang his songs and bit into skin and bone, in hopes that he would fill the emptiness within.

He found a cave to hide away in, from all of humanity. He never saw his family again, but he overheard from past victims having a conversation with one another that “The Armanis have grown quite prosperous since Israfel’s disappearance”, which was enough to quell one worry in his heart.

He tried to not eat any other Winston girls, but Winston blood smelled so decadent, so flavorful, that how could he not feast upon the Winston girls?

Israfel was not the wishful boy he once was, but a siren that came from grit and determination, ready to take whatever he wanted and so pleased.