Literature: A Siren’s Island

Jannatul Ferdous :
Jagged bolts of lightning were erupting like fireworks across the dusky skies. Floods of rainwater were showering down from the dense blankets of clouds above. The titanic tides were mightily beating their fluid fists against the rocks splayed across the shore. Branches and leaves
of trees were dancing with the raging winds in a violent rhythm. Ships anchored in
the harbor were consistently sinking themselves into the murky seas below. Mimicking the drowning vessels, our huts were also wrecking. Pieces of stone and straw blended themselves into the beastly stormy madness. My mother’s voice was getting guised as a faint whisper amidst the chaos and fright of the people. Parents had vice like grips on their children’s wrists as they skedaddled in the direction of the vexed waters.
A baffled look from my mother portrayed into my view as I suddenly freed my hand from her grasp. Ignoring her cries of protest, I followed my townsfolk to the once calm oceans. I needed to aid their plights to flee, even if my efforts were quite likely going to be abstracted into a lonely and useless endeavor.
One after another, together, with the families I assembled makeshift rafts. As they boarded and sailed off, caresses of joy stroked my mind. Even if this stunt was maybe going to cost me my life, I did not care. My people were innocent, they did not deserve to demise in paramount pain.
Once everyone was safely off the island, I dashed in my mother’s direction. Thank Lady Iura, She was still where I had last seen her. Her hands had an iron grip on her now unsheathed sword to secure herself on the sand.
“We need to leave, now!” She rasped at seeing me. I nodded in response. As much as it hurt me, I needed to be rational. Grieving over the loss of my birth lands could wait. Even after the nonsensical draught, some stray logs of wood and chunks of stone had remained. Hurriedly, I picked up the lying materials and began to work. Thanks to my late father’s lessons, I knew how to fasten these together swiftly. The coarse wooden square was now hovering on the quaking waves. Once it was finished, mother and I carefully pushed ourselves onto the fickly shifting boat. As we began to move, I silently beseeched to Lady Iura, gratifying her for supporting our attempts.
Our wooden vessel was so far flowing across the oceans smoothly.
It was strange to think that just a few moments ago, we were on the verge of raze; and here, on these waters, it seemed as if though we were traveling on liquified silk.
My mother had fallen asleep by now. Her form strung out across the small surface of cedar. I was seeking rest as well, but I knew someone had to supervise our boat so I couldn’t.
After a few long ages of sailing, we arrived at the sanded bed of an island.
The faintly golden grains were dusting across the edges our raft. I gently nudged my mother. After a meager moment of elbowing, she arose. “Where are we?” She asked mumbling; her left hand was busy trying to rub the drowsiness out of her eyes. “Some island I believe.” I answer, unsure of my own said words.
She nods; her reply signaling empathy with my uncertainness. “Well then, let’s find some shelter, no?” She suggests as she starts to jaunt in the direction of the foreign bit of land. I follow her. As hard as it was for me to confront, for the first time in my 15 years of living, I was afraid. No sailor I knew of had ever spoken about an island that was this close to our village. My whole life I had known that even the nearest relationships we had with the outer world, were thousands of yards afar. But this one was barely above a couple hundred. Noticing my concern, my mother reassuringly squeezed my hand. “We’ll be alright love.” She comforts. I wanted to have faith in her, yet there were still some prickling essences of doubt stabbing into me internally. I took a deep breath, relax Phyta. I console myself.
At last, we finally arrived to a halting stop at our so far unknown destination. My mother’s sudden pause in walking had me bemused. I raised myself to my toes and peek from behind her back. A puff of air escapes my mouth in surprise. My mother hadn’t just spotted some hut or cave. It was a cave of sirens. The tailed women were humming in a melodious tune. Their voice resembling a frighteningly stunning divinity.

(Jannatul Ferdous is a
student of Class-VII at Mohammadpur Preparatory School & College)