They say sirens are the cruel, man-eating beasts that lure men in with their seductive songs. All ancient Greeks connected it, beautiful sirens are bad, and men are good. It’s really not that simple. I mean, I’m a good person, I just do horrible things.

I don't think that most people realize that I’m a siren. I mean that I’m beautiful (and oh so modest) and I have a good singing voice (oh yes, oh so modest) but I’m not extraordinary. And really, this whole eternal beauty and immortality is sort of a drag. Whenever I start to fall in love with someone, I have to sort of, you know, kill him or her. And I’m eternally sixteen. Yeah, that really sucks. When people read about Greek mythology, they think that we were perfect, but I still have acne. Also because I was born more then 2,000 years ago and people were way shorter then, I’m only 5’3. What else? I live in New York and I’m an emancipated minor. I live in a swank penthouse, with a butler and a maid and such. I play the cello and the piano. And basically, I’m sitting around, waiting for eternal damnation. And it’s boring.

Honestly, I hate earth. There is no one here who I am attached to in any way. I’m in the process of trying to be sent to the Underworld, but it’s sort of hard. I need to get “on the radar” of the MDC (mythological damnation council) by doing something really big. So far, I haven’t been able to think of anything worse then telling people that we’re real. Yeah, it’s a process.

***
What is life but a waiting room for death? Because death always follows life. At least, for mortals. I spend hours a day now practicing my cello. It’s the only time where I can pretend that I’m with my parents and sisters in hell. And I want to be with them so. I sent in n application to be banned from earth today. The MDC said no such luck. Woe is me. I’m miserable. In a comical way.

***
Yet more pain and suffering on earth today. It’s quite ironic, really. I, normally the captor, am being held captive. I just need to scream. I can’t really think, my brain is all stuffed and I need to let it all out:
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
Marsha, my maid, comes in. “What is wrong, Miss Julia?” she asks, obviously worried about my mental state. “It’s nothing, Marsha.” I reply. “No, Miss Julia, you haven’t been happy in moths. You should get out more. Please.” She presses firmly, hoping to make me her charity case. Yeah, no. “Miss Julia! I had an idea. You play cello so well!
The community center is looking for a cellist to accompany a solo violinist. Please, audition!” She says, with only the possible solution in the air, she visibly relaxes. “Marsha, I’m really not sure…” “Nonsense! I can pick up the music for you if you wish.” “No, that’s okay. I can go get it.” “Then get it now Miss Julia, the auditions are in two days.” She holds open the door of my room until I exit.
***

Not only is this music beautiful, but it’s long too. Life is looking a lot better. My audition is in three minutes, and even though I seem completely calm, I’m actually really scared. I really want to play this piece for someone other then Marsha (who insisted on listening to my practices.) WOW. Like, seventeen other cellists are here, and some of them sound really good. I am probably the youngest person here by a good ten or eleven years. One lady must be sixty. She catches me staring at her and raises an eyebrow. I quickly turn away, and hear my name being called. “Julia Smith?” I nod, and follow her into a small room. Sitting there is one of the most dashing young man I have ever seen in my life. He looks quite surprised that I’m auditioning, and even more surprised after I have played the piece. “No need for further auditions,” he tells the lady who saved me from the old women. “I want HER.” She exits to make the other hopefuls leave, and his deep brown eyes focus on me. “Hello,” he says, “I’m Jack.” He encases my hand in his firm, warm handshake. “ I’m Julia.” I reply. “How old are you?” H asks me, his brow furrowing. “Sixteen. How about you?” “I’m sixteen too. Wow, I thought that I was going to have some old person accompany me.” I think back to the women in the waiting room. “Yeah, I could understand why you would think that. “ He smiles, his eyes crinkling ever so slightly. “Hey,” he says after a moment, “ I think that we should exchange numbers. So that, you know, we can make plans for practice. “I give it to him, and smile mysteriously. “See you later.” I say, and turn around and walk out of the room, pulling my cello in its white fiberglass case behind me.

***

The memory of Jack’s deep eyes haunts me. It seamed as if he was staring into my soul. Even though I heard of him only two days ago, when I try to picture my life without this performance, I can’t. Should I text him? I gave him my number three hours ago! Why hasn’t he texted me?
OH! My phone is buzzing? Is it him? Is it him? Is it- YES!!! IT IS!!!!
Jack: 2marow. My place. Ok?
I type back quickly.
Me: Sure. That would be great. Can you text me the time and where you live?
Oh no. Why was I so eager? Do I like him like that? Oh no. Oh no. I was hoping that my inner siren wasn’t going to come out, but I guess that it may. Oh no.
Jack: 103 Maple wood hills. 3:15 to 7.
Yep, I have it bad. Already.

***
I spray my self with vanilla scented body mist and put on my grey V-neck shirt that I love so much. My hair is in a loose bun, and I’m wearing boots with three inch heals. My butler Charles looks surprised to see me looking, well, presentable, and he drives me the thirty minutes to the cool, artsy neighborhood where Jack lives. Charles drops me off in front of Jack’s house and promises that he will pick me up at seven on the dot. I nod, and Charles drives away. I knock twice on the door and some girl who looks about sixteen opens it. “Jaaaaack!” she calls. “It’s the cellist. I guess that I have to go.” I hear clumping and a few seconds later, he’s at the door. “ Hey Julia. Eve, I think that you have to go.” The girl (who I presume is Eve) kisses him on his cheek, I’m guessing as more of a possessive then romantic gesture, and then leaves. After an awkward silence, Jack opens the door. I wheel my cello in in silence and set up. After a moment, Jack says, “Let’s start at the beginning.” And so we do.
***
We play until 5:45, and then Jack suggests that we go get something to eat. He calls to his mom that we’re leaving, and we head out, walking seven minutes to a taco place near his house. I try to start a conversation, “How long have you been playing violin?”
“Seven years. What about you?”
“It seams like forever!” I can’t really tell him that I’ve been playing for two hundred years, can I?
“Yeah, I know.” He replies with a nod of his head. “Hey, Julia? Can I ask you something really personal?”
“Yeah.” I say.
“Have you ever felt like you know someone when you have just met them?”
“Um, I guess?” Can he tell how I feel about him? I’m so enticed. I normally feel that I know everything about guys but Jack, he’s just mysterious. I feel like I know him from somewhere.

He looks at me like he expects me to catch on to something. When I don’t, he turns his gaze away.

We spend the rest of the evening making small talk.

***

After my rehearsal with Jack I feel different. I really have no idea how but… I don’t know. It’s 11:30 at night and I still can’t fall asleep. I stand up and look out the window. What about Eve the girlfriend? And what about, how I get with guys that I like? I’m not even sure. I should just get ready for bed.

***

After three weeks of similar practices, there is only one thing that I can imagine, I really like Jack. And in that way. My phone buzzes, interrupting the flow of conflicting thoughts.
Jack: You as bored as I am?
What? It’s three in the morning.
Jack: Are you in for an adventure?
What? I type back.
Me: What are you talking about?
I instantly regret it because my excuse could have been that I was sleeping.
Jack: Glad that you’re awake. There’s this club that I have wanted to try out… Want to come with?
This is getting a little weird. What happened to my mild mannered violin partner?
Me: What club is it?
Jack: It’s called Heaven and Hell…. it’s supposed to be really cool. What do you say? I can be at your house in 2.
I don’t think that I ever gave him my address, but maybe it came up in conversation.
Me: Jack, do you even know where I live?
He replies instantly and it sends shivers down my spine.
Jack: I’m already here.
I put on a bathrobe and open my front door. Sure enough, Jack is already there. “Hey, Julia. I didn’t mean to freak you out.” I nod, still flabbergasted, “Um, why don’t you come in?” He sits down on the coach, while I get ready. I put o a flashy silver shirt that hugs my curves, and a very short miniskirt. Jack’s eyebrows raise. “Do I look ok?” I ask. As his answer, he walks over to where I’m standing. He leans in, and I think that he’s about to kiss me. But instead, he whispers, “Jaw dropingly.” I look into his eyes and I feel connected to him somehow. Maybe I knew his great grand father or something.

He’s still staring at me, so I spray on some vanilla body mist. Then, we leave.

***


A few songs later, Jack and I start t warm up. I say something, and he starts cracking up. A break in the music falls, and everyone on the dance floor goes to get something to drink. I ask the question that I’ve been thinking from the moment we me, ”Did I know you from somewhere, you know, befor the cello thing?” He looks at me, and then says slowly, ”Yes.”

“From where?”

He doesn’t wan to answer. I can see it in his eyes. But he does. Very quietly, “From Greece.”

“What? From Greece? I haven’t been there in-“ I cut myself off. I haven’t been there for nearly a hundred years. I close my eyes, remembering the warm water, how I killed all of those men with my songs. Then I remember the only man that I met that I didn’t kill. I open my eyes. Jack looks nervous, and he tenses up when I open my mouth.
“I think I-I fell in love with Orpheus.”



With that, Heaven and Hell starts glowing deep, deep red. I try to scream, but the air is pushed out of my lungs. I can’t breath. Jack, or should I say Orpheus, starts changing in front of my eyes, growing older and older, until he is just bones. “I caught her master,” he talks, his voice dusty and his jaw creaking. Suddenly, a chair spins around. I see a man who looks like every man I have ever killed all melted into one. I look away. When I look back, I see the face of Ulysses, one of the most famous men I have killed. With out meaning to, I start to recite, “Come worthy Greek!” He starts to shriek. Ulysses throws a dagger at me, and it hits me. Blood pours out of the wound Orpheus just looks at me, and the ache I feel in my heart is even worse then the stabbing pain that I feel. And suddenly, everything is black. So black that I know that I will be gone forever in but a few seconds. I hear cackling, and then Jacks lips on mine. “Goodbye, sweet Julia,” he whispers, “ But why are all things I love in life to be taken away.” I try to wake up, to tell him that I love him too, but it is already over. I relax, and finally, I fall sleep, to join my parents and sisters in the Underworld.