Sirens Call

A Story by A.Lack.of.Hope

They beckon her, but she refuses to come to them. She has a great many things to see and the ghosts of her past deeds must not be kept waiting. Their impatience is almost childish. They know she shall come to them. However she must see some people. Her family is after all her family.

The door creaks open as she walks into the main lounge. The ceilings are draped with silvery cobwebs. The maid stands in the corner.
"Lazy girl!" she thinks as she leaves the coat on one of the mahogany chairs.
The maid stands there, draped in dust and cobwebs. She doesn't feel the maggot fall out of her nose.

She looks at the broken wine glass on the table.
"Clean it up!" she barks to no-one in particular, and there is no flurry of movement.
The butler is stooped over a table. His face is contorted and twisted and he has no lips.
The sharp edges of the glass call to her. They sing to her. They sound so sweet. But she has much to see.

She waltzes to the library.

The fire is out. But this is her parent’s room. She has no place to give orders here. Besides it is so peaceful. Even the stench of rot coming from the dog does not mar the beauty of the room.
The room is lined with old books while magazines and newspapers lie proudly in their proper places. Her father is looking towards her mother who is absorbed in her newest fashion magazine- in another attempt to outdo her country club rivals-when she walks in.
They greet her with sweet smiles and kisses. They are happy to see their "little girl."
Her father’s skull lies on the ground.
The axe calls to her from its corner, but she has much to see.

She goes to glance over at her older sister. She is lovely with red hair, sea-colored eyes and creamy skin. She was the good one who answered letters, decided upon the day’s menus, paid the bills with their father’s money and made sure that the couture made it to the right closets. Guests were charmed by her ability to make them feel like royalty while at the same time family.
She does not look up from her letters.
She walks away.
She has no hair. Her eyes lie on the ground. What is left of her skin is blackened with dust.
The dagger calls from its place on the desk, but she resists. She has much to see.

She peeks into her mother’s room. The closet to be exact. The furs, the velvets, the silks, the brilliant jewels peek out at her. She holds a red one to herself. Her mother shall not miss it, and besides today is a special day.

Her brother’s playroom is her last stop. He kisses her and coos at her and never stops his hugs. Finally she hands him over to the nanny and walks away.
Some special toffees call to her from their box on the dresser. And she almost comes to them, but decides that it would not be prudent over here.
Her brother never woke. Nor did his nanny.

They call to her from the island far from the shore. She is coming! She almost calls to them, but decides not to disturb the peace.

She walks to the shore.
The sand comforts her bare feet.
She walks to the edge of the water.
She hears it gurgle.
She hears them giggle.
She did what they said.
And now the fina