3. Siren

I was in my bed. Crisp Moon light shone through the window adjacent to me, I felt it uncommon that I would leave the curtains parted and blind raised, but I was between covers, so I made no great move to alter their positioning. Still, I scrutinised the room for other irregularities, one of my chess sets was open (coral pieces with stone board, pink in place of white, deep rouge in place of black, which I obtained in New Zealand), but found nothing out of the ordinary. The rhythmic churning of the boiler filled the walls, a cause for further drowzing. I cursed at myself for leaving the old building's internal heating at such a high quarter (I always switch off the boiler come night, a waste of good heat and money). I sighed and willed for sleep.

...

Sadly, at the exact point to which my eyelids had dropped to their eclipse- did I hear it.

...

Sounds came from the bottom of my staircase, a garbled hissing, like a beast of burden who's throat had just been slit for religious feast. It's pained tone drove into me, growing with degree as the boiler shuck furiously. Even from my room I heard the bolts split and felt it rock upon its iron bearing. I lay listening to it for over a minute (or less, or more), in something less than outright fear, studying it's qualities in a vain attempt to define it's species, before it began to wail like a thing dying. Slow, long and loud sobs, wordless and haunting. The Moon fled.

...

Bare feet and body froze as I crept along pine floor and out onto the landing. I handled, quite jocularly, a thick book from the walled case (an impromptu weapon), I moved five paces down the carpeted steps before realising the thing I was looking for had traveled over half way up the stairs to greet me. It moved on all fours, presumedly, body pressed so firmly to the stairs that it's form seemed to move at near perfect right angles.

...

Before feared I marvelled it. From head to shoulder it was a woman of such defined features, unlike anyone I have ever seen, a rare breeding of Mediterranean and Mongol. It's mane was a wet, post-swim jet that crawled along it's back, it's skin was a diseased patchwork of sea grey and tan. It had Caesar's strong brow and nose. It had thin, transparent lobed ears and pronounced lips that seemed to extend just a fraction too far on her left side. Above all this were it's eyes; chocolate iris, pooled black pupils and otherwise human, so human as to call in to question any other sight- and it was such a sight.

In front of this face, out stretched, were two malformed limbs which ended in growths shaped like hooks, with barely a layer of skin hiding thin bone. I am thankful they were not strong as this was it's means of propelling itself.

Beyond it's shoulders was a revolting mess of a body, like a child starved. Like an unfinished, uncaring attempt at a body. It was far too short and weak to be of any use. It's backend was, I noted as it shifted weight, covered in tiny, glimmering scales, the scales most blatantly of a carp.

...

The boiler began to sound off like a kettle, which shuck me enough from it to take myself, eyes fixed on it's own, back to the landing, where I leered at this revolting phantasm. I considered what I could achieve, I could flee, by what sort of person would I be, if I ran from a diseased retch? I could harm it, force it out of my house, but again, where would I stand morally? I watched it for over a minute as it lunged itself up and repeated the process of hinging it's hooks into a decent crevice in the staircase.

...

Then, in so sudden an action I felt it would fall, it arched it's back, resting on backwards bent feet, like a snake, or an eel, and leered at me with the same level of revulsion I had imparted it. It swayed as it glared at me, it's mouth wide. It screamed. It screamed and brandished it's limbs, as if pointing accusing fingers. Only one thought could enter my mind: Surely it was weak?

...

Through the screams I heard laughter; but I could not tell you if it came from the thing, from myself, or another source. I do not wish to analyse this area of the dream.

...

Shocked and frozen, both through fright and Winter's bite, I stood, as the wailing thing swayed and screamed. I almost vomited as I gazed at it, for within it's mouth appeared to be leeches, whats more it's tongue was bulbous, black and may have been a leech as-well. My legs began to buckle under it's acute audio. I felt my blood rising into my ears. I could take no more and did a regrettably animal thing: I threw the book at it.

...

...

...

I awoke nude upon my landing, covered in a cold sweat. Though raw beyond belief, I did not turn the boiler on until I returned from work (which you may conclude is a mere number of minutes before this entry). I have been known to sleep walk and have considered locking my good self within the room at night, but for some untold reason I am not able to.

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