There was a sharp splashing din from the calm waves that startled Richard from his deep sleep. He jolted up, grabbing the fishing pole that was by his side, and held it out defensively. He looked around cautiously, his eyes peering at the blue sea encompassing him.

After a couple of minutes of trying to find the source of the sound, he gave up. There was nothing. The splashing, whatever it was, had ceased momentarily. He sat back down, and sighed heavily, looking down at himself and his tiny raft.

His clothes, although once pristine, were now tattered and filled with numerous holes and cuts. The long linen garment of his shirt, was stained with dark reddish hue, and his dark brown pants were torn open on his knees. He looked like an dirty, poverty-stricken man, despite being a prince. And now, here he was, on a brigantine that was reduced to nothing more than a couple of planks.

He remembered well what happened to all of the 326 men. It was the storm that took them by surprise. That day, was nice and bright outside, and the sun shined high up above the thick clouds. It was neither too hot nor cold. The waters were serene, shimmering from the sun’s rays; it was the perfect day to sail. But as the hours passed, and the further they ventured in the sea, the murkier the water became. Shills ran up Richard’s spine, and his conscious was warning him to turn back and set sail another time, but he could not miss the important meeting that was to take place between the allied countries. He was supposed to represent the Verhan Empire, and it was his duty above all to set the negotiations for his ailing father.

It had struck fast. The sky suddenly had become dark, and fuliginous. The waves became high, and vicious, causing it to bump into peaked underwater rocks; the pointed stones pierced holes in the ship, and damages that were irreversible. Then, there was the flash of lightning that caused the sails to catch on fire, and deteriorate into nothing. The men no longer had any sails left—anything to hold the ship together. One by one, the violent movement of the waters, caused most of the men to fall off, and drown. If they did not die from drowning, they surely died from something else—whether it be impaled by the rocks or sudden sickness —until there was no one left but him.

That was four days ago.

Honestly, Richard did not know how he survived. He vaguely remembered anything about his own survival, and focused more of the loss of his comrades rather than himself.

Richard shook his head, his grimy matted hair, moving stiffly. He then took in a deep breath, staring at the dull skies. There was no sun only giant clouds that covered the welkin. The air was chilling, but not inhospitably cold, and there was the occasional wind that aided his travel.

His stomach growled loudly, and his body felt feeble. Paranoia and hallucinations began to slip in his mind. At times, he swore that monkeys were flying across the sky, or that his family was there on a giant ship, opening their arms out to rescue him. It varied sometimes, and the more he spent out at sea, the more estranged they became.

Splash! The sound rang, and Richard immediately stood up, his eyes searching for where it came from. Clear waters met his view, and there wasn’t even a slight wave, yet the sound rang again, but this time louder.

Splash!

His heart began palpitating against his rib cage and his eyes dilated as he focused himself on a flash of a fin, that emerged out, then promptly fell back into the pellucid waters. He did not dare to go close to the edge, just in case the creature decided to drag him down, so stayed put in the center of the raft, with the fishing rod in his hands.

It was eerily silent for a moment, and the hair on his skin stood up high, and froze there. His lips suddenly felt chapped, and he licked them, tasting the cold, metallic blood that laid upon them. Beads of sweat made their way from the crease of his brows, to the start of his beard.

He was waiting for the attack, anticipating any possibility that came to his mind, but it never came. Instead a sweet, calming tone filled his ears. It was soft, relaxing, and there was a dream like quality to it; it was resounding with his deepest desires. It was like a hum from an angel—except this creature was no angel, but something malicious. The tone was putting him in drug-like state, and he suddenly felt compelled to get off of the only thing keeping him afloat.

Richard was under its control.

Tardily and uncouthly, he made his way to the edge of the float, and gazed into the water with half-lidded eyes. He smiled dumbly at the clear liquid, until a hand, one that was webbed and had talons as nails, wrapped itself around his neck, reeling him in. Finally, he could see the creature’s face. It appeared to look like a beautiful young woman, with bright lavender eyes, and long, white curly hair. Its eyelashes were long and white, and its skin was a pale creamy color.

When he was fully submerged into the sea, his lungs began to burn from the amount of water he was consuming. It watched him curiously squirm as he tried to find a source of air. It circumnavigated around him a couple times, its long, spiked fishtail bumping against the man’s skin. The siren prodded at him, waiting for a reaction, but the man stared idly back, smiling, completely not aware of his intimate doom.

It was playing, enjoying the way its food offered himself to it. The creature liked him, liked his features. The human was handsome, tall and broad….he would make a perfect meal; he would last the creature for weeks.

It extended its serrated trap, ready to consume the man, but torrid sensation from his lack of oxygen, woke Richard up from his daze before it could strike.

His eyes became wide open, and he grabbed a hold of his nose in attempt to hold his breath. He was running out of air and running out fast. Richard would have immediately swam back up if not for the creature circling him.

It hissed a couple of times, letting out a horrid screeched that sounded akin to a cross between a snake and bird and revealed more of its razor blades for teeth. They were tiny, but there were a myriad in there, all of them which were eagerly waiting to take a bite out of him. It glared at him vehemently, before swinging its large, fish-like tail against him.

He felt like he was kicked by a horse’s hind legs—only the sensation was far more prickled and unpleasant.

Richard gasped out in pain, resulting in his mouth to open wide. Bubbles of air left him, and he inadvertently consumed more of the salt water. He was beginning to feel heavier, and more lethargic than before; it was due to the fact that he had just got the wind knocked out of him, and that he was quickly losing blood. The creature smirked at this, exhaling the scent of it and began making its way to charge at him again. Adrenaline kept the pain from being overpowering, and with strength he did not know he had, Richard hurriedly swam up towards the top of the water, and had managed to grab an area of the float. He lifted himself up onto the the raft, and took a deep breath, his eyes focusing on the pole that was rolling near him.

Before the clawed hands were able to strike, he grabbed onto the pole.