To 2015 - 2016
siren

By Dale kerem

  1. Untitled
    Untitled
    By Molly Friedel, 12
  
Her eyes shimmered in the ghostly light of the moon, flashing darkly before once again returning to their serene blue. With a small smile, she held out her hand.
 
"Don't worry. What could possibly go wrong this late at night? There’s not a soul around to catch us."
 
So I grabbed her hand and she pulled me in, running and stumbling down the sandy bank.
 
She laughed, and fear coursed through my veins as cold as ice.
 
“Come on, Lainy,” she giggled, winding her thin arms around my neck. “Don’t be scared, it’ll be fun.”
 
I grimaced at the unattractive nickname. “Don’t call me that, ‘Lyssa, you know I hate it. Anyway, I’m not scared.” I ducked out of her embrace and sauntered closer to the water, trying so hard to keep my legs steady underneath me. I felt unnaturally brave, like someone else was controlling my limbs; making me step further and further into the warm water. It lapped around my ankles, soaking through my sneakers and socks and making me shudder.
 
“That’s right, Lainy.” She kicked off her sandals and skipped towards me. “Just a few more steps.”
 
The water had reached the hem of my shirt by then, and the crashing waves around me had dulled to a low roar. With each passing minute the tide rose and Alyssa took another step towards me, causing me to stumble deeper and deeper into the dark sea. I was shivering, although not from cold, struggling to keep my head above the curling waves as my toes brushed the sandy bottom. The redheaded girl grinned maniacally, her short skirt flowing out around her legs.
 
“You’re not quite there yet, darling.” Before I could respond she had placed her hands on my shoulders and locked eyes with me. “Take a deep breath now, Lain.” Her eyes glimmered and I complied, gasping in as much air as I could just seconds too late, tasting salt on my tongue and in my throat, trying to scream but only choking more, grabbing Alyssa’s hands, trying to pry her off of me. Sharp nails dug into my shoulders, tearing holes in the fabric of my shirt and slicing delicate half-moons into my skin as I struggled against her. I gasped at the pain, and my vision began the go dark and fuzzy around the edges.
 
Just before I went completely under I remembered her words, could almost hear her laughter, muffled by the waves:
 
What could possibly go wrong this late at night?
  
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