Ok. So this isn't really poetry but it's still something to read! I wrote this for Gepard's competition. Enjoy!
The Sirens Cry
The lonely boat swayed and rocked as the waves crashed over the wooden deck. The rigging, tattered and torn moaned as the wind howled across the lake. Minutes before screams and panicked voices rent the air as the swarms of downtrodden humanity clung to the remains of the boat before being taken by silence beneath the scarlet water. Slowly the charred remains of the ship sank into the bloody waters leaving only a crimson froth of bubbles to disturb the now placid lake. Two beings shrouded in a ghostly green glow dived swiftly towards their monstrous feast, as they laughed in unison, a high cruel sound that sent shivers into the hearts of the corpses that lay in a ghastly multitude beneath the death drenched mere.
Time and time again, the two sirens feasted upon the blood filled waters of the putrid lake, calling victims from afar with a beautiful song, which bewitched the minds of all who heard it, with equal parts of grief and joy and the hearts deepest desire. And as their suppers looked upon the faces of the stunning, imperial divinities, fear quelled them as they changed, fangs erupting from their pale green lips, eyes flashing with bloodlust, and as the two sirens shrieked as one, the dignity gone, only a severe, animal madness etched upon their ivy features, they swooped down upon the screaming mortals until their blood flowed like wine, staining the lake with ruby clouds, a cacophony of utter pain.
Deep beneath the Siren’s Lake, guarded by armies of the dead, lay a small red stone, hidden beneath a sea of yellowing bones and rotting flesh. The lake itself was treacherous and hidden, surrounded by a ring of icy peaks that speared the gloomy skies. This stone, was spoken of in hallowed whispers, long lost, yet yearned for by many. None had ever returned from this abandoned wasteland, home of the Sirens. None except for one, a person known as Sam Willows.
Sam Willow woke up from his nightmare, and shivered violently, as the vision seared through his mind in garish detail.
“The Revival Stone”
At last he knew where to find the object of his quest, what he had to do, what he must face.
Sam Willows knew he must seek out this ghostly lake of the Sirens and brave its cold, black depths. Sam Willows knew that he must face the Sirens and capture the stone. For Tommy.
Salty tears streamed down his face as the thought of his friend entered his mind. He remembered what Tommy had become and hoped for his return to humanity.
Sam stood on the slimy pebbled shore as two green streaks of light danced through the misty sky, in anticipation of their feast. And as they dived, they noticed a tall, dark figure, watching their dance. Curiosity showed in their glowing emerald eyes, quickly replaced with horror and then a strange infusion of hunger and contempt. As they sped towards Sam Willows, they laughed together, cruel, high and mocking, yet Sam showed no outward sign of fear. The Sirens spoke in unison, a hissing, discordant noise yet under lied by an ethereal, otherworldly melody as if a choir of thousands of voices were singing a song of grief, despair and deepest desire.
“Sam Willows”
“We know who you are and what it is you so foolishly seek”
The hairs on the back of Sam’s neck, prickled with anxiety.
“Yet we guard the Revival Stone and none shall steal it from us”
“So it has been for ages past and so it shall be for centuries to come”
The Sirens were now spiralling around Sam, their scaly, taloned bodies, entwining and interlacing in a frenzy of anger and lust.
“Dare to plunge beneath the waves and you shall be DEVOURED!”
The Siren’s dance had reached a climax, saliva dripping from their fangs, the otherworldly choir moaning in ecstasy as the Siren’s embraced each other in a tempest of passion, blood and rage, as their forked tongues, reached out towards Sam, tasting the air, the fear emanating from him. The Siren’s reached out towards Sam, to feast and to ravage, to clutch him in their deadly embrace.
Yet Sam Willows had slipped away into the murky waters of the lake, into the darkness and the clammy mournful world of corpses and decay, towards the red gleam of the Revival Stone.
Sam’s lungs were burning as his brain screamed for oxygen, as the corpses rose up from their watery grave. They grasped weakly at him, trying to pull him down into the chilling, dark depths. Faces of men, women and children drifted past Sam in a blur of confusion. Blackness started to descend over his vision, obscuring the green light that was growing brighter and the white blobs of the corpses, and pain erupted through his right hand as he brushed against something small, smooth and round. As Sam fell into unconsciousness, he gripped tightly onto the Revival Stone as the Sirens lifted him out of the lake and began to feast.
