More than 3 words

There is no such thing as a language barrier, only the unwillingness to cross it. Many are unwilling, but those who aren’t, make great discoveries.

Sirens, a not so mythical, mythical creature. Some stories claim they are beautiful mermaids that sing the loveliest tunes to you. Others claim them to be horrid sea demons that lure you into the depths of the ocean, singing promises of your deepest desires, only to drown you once you step foot in the water. Though what if one was neither, they didn’t try to drown you, and they didn’t sing tunes of hope to you. Would they still be classified as a siren? Or something else entirely.

Musia, a siren without a voice. It's not gone, in theory, she can still use it, she just chooses not to. She’s grown up in a speaking -singing- world. A world full of sound and colours. She agrees that sounds are beautiful, the mother humming a gentle soothing sound to her child is made up of colours that could paint a forest. The kids running around squealing and playing could create a balloon shop with theirs. Everyone’s voice has a set of colours, colours that dance around them as they speak, get mixed with the current, fall to the ocean floor when they fall silent before slowly fading out. It's beautiful, hard to take her eyes off of, though too much of anything is never good. Too many sounds make too many colours. With all the colours she can think of swarming and moving through her vision when people are having a simple conversation, it hurts. It hurts to try and comprehend all of the sounds. It hurts to see and try to make sense of the colours, find their owners, it hurts. So, she did what she could, she eliminated a sound, a voice. She got rid of hers.

The others in her colony don’t understand why she doesn’t talk, doesn’t sing, they don’t want her around. Saying that if she wants a response, she must use her words. Because of this, she’s taken to spending her days alone. Near a tucked away cave, she goes when it's sunny, deep under the waves in a sunken ship when storming.

Just like any other sunny days, she’s at the cave, though this time it's not her quiet oasis, there’s sound coming from inside it. A quiet humming, along with the sweet sound of a violin. It’s a peach colour, a soft colour, one that’s not violently dancing through the air, rather gliding along the surface of the water dipping its toes in every so often. It's enticing like it is calling her closer. So, like any siren with social anxiety due to years of neglect, she turns tail and flees.

The sun rises again and Musia returns to her cave, only once again there’s sound quietly floating through the air. Today it’s a pastel sage green. The sound of the violin causing it to jump every so often forming leaves of colour resting on the water's surface. Just like yesterday she turns tail and flees, though not without sitting to listen for a little bit.

It's storming the next day, lightening strikes through the sky lighting up the waves, making the perfect light for gathering shells. Musia looks around searching for uniquely coloured shells of all shapes and sizes, she finds many though only two caught her eye enough for her to keep them. A delicately rounded peach shell, and a slightly spikey but just as smooth sage green one. She adds them to her dedicated seashell bag that she’s found, it's grown quite full, though she has yet to find what she wishes to do with them.

With the sunset and sunrise comes a clear sky. The cave today is yet again leaking a soft colour to accompany the almost ethereal sounding violin. A gentle orange is flooding the air today, swirling in and out of itself, creating a beautiful pattern, like the sun setting the night before a storm. Though today instead of fleeing Musia decided to stay, dares to inch closer, peek out from the water even, and lays eyes on the source of the music that would make you think you’re dreaming.

And there stands a human, the creature mothers would use to scare their children into behaving, the wicked being who they share a face with. Yet, they look nothing like the stories have described. The colour she emitted was nothing like those who cast her out, refuse to feed her until she uses her voice. This human’s colour is gentle and soft, like their music, their sound.

Without realizing it Musia comes out of the water, just her head, but it seems to be enough as the human instantly locks eyes on her. With the newfound audience the human slowly brings her violin to a stop, trying not to make it too obvious that Musia had been found out.

As the music slows to a stop Musia begins looking through her bag of collected shells, remembering one that was the same color as today’s melody. After shuffling through her bag for a moment she finds the shell she was looking for and pulls it out, only then realizing that she’s been spotted. With surprise she launches the shell at the human and flees.

Days pass and Musia is reluctant to go back to the cave, though eventually her curiosity gets the better of her and she cautiously makes her way back. Yet again the human is playing a song, a soft yellow one today. With curiosity and the need to know more Musia creeps her way closer, eventually being just a meter away from the source of music. With the human still playing she searches through her shells to find one that looks like todays sound. A moment of searching later and she’s found a shell that fits.

In the time she was searching the human stopped playing and is now watching Musia with interest. The human, having picked up on the fact Musia is skittish, is moving slow, showcasing each movement before making it. Though Musia might be a tad naive due to having been refused most forms of education, even she can recognize the effort that the human is making and will return it in kind by staying.

With the unspoken understanding there is now a fragile trust shared between them Musia shows the human the shell that represents todays song. The human, who Musia had decided to call Pas, looks at the shell with interest, with a slight raise of their eyebrows Musia points to the violin and back to the shell. Pas looks back and forth between the two objects in question before a slow realization falls upon their face.

With it, a smile. A smile spread across Pas’s face and in turn Musia’s as well. Pas, having a faint understanding of what might have drawn Musia to them in the first place picks up their violin and begins playing a new song.

This one is a faint yellow mixed with white, Musia displaying this by finding and showing Pas a shell that matches. This continues on until night fall, many shells and songs having been shown that day.

Weeks pass with the same pattern as before in Musia’s life, yet sunny days seem to be that much brighter as she has someone to meet, to spend time with. They have done a multitude of things since first meeting. Musia has taken Pas swimming and looking at the fishes near the surface, Pas has been teaching Musia sign language as a way for them to communicate easier. Just like that almost a complete year since Musia’s discovery passes, and with it comes a storm.

Its raining this day, the waves seem unsettled, the sky as though its mourning. Even with it being raining and out of her normal pattern Musia feels the need to go to the cave. As one to have relied on herself and instincts to survive for years, she goes.

The air is heavy when she arrives, wails echoing through the cave, carrying a dark blue with them. Musia heads towards the source of the sound, and there sitting in the middle of the blue is Pas. They look so upset, Musia circles around them trying to find a way to comfort Pas. She chirps, splashes her tail but Pas doesn’t even flinch. With her growing distress driving her, Musia hops out of the water and starts patting Pas on the back.

With this Pas finally stirs, looking up with a shock they lock eyes with Musia. Musia having forgotten that she, does in fact need to breath, starts coughing, causing Pas to smile. The smile morphs into a giggle and the giggle a laugh.

It’s a beautiful color, her faviourt Musia decides, and like with all the sounds she finds beautiful she finds a shell, giving it to Pas chirping all the while.

Author's Note

My first attempt at a short story, i had done this as an english project and thought to post it somewhere and get some feedback on my writing as i'm looking into writing more often