Which Siren Are You?

The next story is almost ready. Almost.

I was this close to publishing it yesterday, but some stories demand a little more time to stretch their wings, adjust their hem, and decide which emotional cliff they want to push you off.

It’ll be up this Sunday. And I think it’ll be worth the wait!!

Here’s a preview:

It follows two friends who weren’t looking for answers, just something to laugh at. But when they download an app called Moros, which claims to predict their death—well, everything begins to fall apart…

In the meantime, while I put the finishing touches on that fun little tale, let’s talk about something equally alluring and dangerous: Sirens.

What is a siren? That depends who you ask. And when.

Homer: A disembodied voice that doesn’t haunt you with beauty or sex appeal, but with the promise of knowledge. In The Odyssey, they whisper:

“We know all that happens on this fertile earth.”

These sirens offer omniscience. And that’s the real trap.

Ovid: Gives them form → half-bird, half-woman.

At one point in Metamorphoses, Ovid pauses the action to pose a question, not to a character, but directly to the Sirens themselves (and by extension, to us):

“Why do you have feet and feathers of a bird, while still possessing faces of young virgin girls?”

Then, like any good myth-maker, he answers it.

The Sirens, he tells us, were once the handmaidens of Proserpina (the Roman equivalent of Persephone). When she was taken to the Underworld, they begged the gods for wings to search for her across sea and land.

Ovid didn’t see them as monsters so much as he branded them as friends who refused to stop looking. Their loyalty gave them feathers. Their grief shaped them.

And isn’t that how it always goes anyway?

Medieval era and beyond: Took that grief, plucked the feathers, and traded them for fish tails. Now we got a mermaid-siren mashup going on.

“Sirens are sea-girls, who deceive sailors with the outstanding beauty of their appearance and the sweetness of their song, and are most like human beings from the head to the navel, with the body of a maiden, but have scaly fishes’ tails, with which they always lurk in the sea.”

—Liber Monstrorum (Latin for “Book of Monsters”)

At this point, we’ve crossed into full-blown temptress territory.

Their song? A warning.

Their beauty? A threat.

The message? When women seek power, or pleasure, or even speak too sweetly—they’re a danger to men.

Best to fear them (& prolly punish ‘em).

So next time someone calls you a siren, ask them which era. Are you offering forbidden wisdom? Grieving a lost friend? Or just trying to lure one more ship onto the rocks?

Anyway, see you this Sunday for The God Who Stayed.

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