 Some kids counted down the days till their birthdays, others to Christmas or Halloween. I counted down the days to July. My family and I would fill our tiny car to the brim with worn suitcases, beach umbrellas, and goldfish and set off on a three hour trek to Montauk. We rented a different beach house every year, never anything extravagant, but a welcome change to our cramped New York City apartment. As my parents would unpack the car, my little sister and I would scramble off to explore the area. We'd throw our shoes off and dash into the blue, the waves crashing on our skin. Eventually mom and dad would call us back to help, and we'd scurry to the house, the edges of our shorts damp with seawater. We knew we'd be back in the waves soon enough. Back then, summer was a welcome escape, but not anymore. I was 15 and life was different now. The two Montauk weeks grew lonelier as I did, the absence from my friends putting a damper on my trips year after year as a moody teen, hanging out with my family was the last thing I wanted to do. But I still love the ocean. I spent most of my days on the beach, reading comic books or drinking a beer I'd snuck from my parents' icebox. This year, the house we'd rented was near a rock formation that sprawled out to the ocean, and I loved to climb over the slippery boulders to the very edge and let my feet dangle in the water. I never worried about falling, I never thought it could happen to me. I shouldn't have indulged my ego. A few days before the end of our trip, I was traversing the sleek rock formation. I'd had a beer about 20 minutes earlier, so I was a bit tipsy, but nothing that I thought could affect me. I was almost at the end of the line when I heard a faint voice singing. I couldn't make out the tune, but it sounded familiar and I wanted to get closer to hear better. My steps became bolder and less deliberate, and in my haste I lost my footing, tumbling down. I hit my head on one of the rocks, and everything went black. When I woke up, our house was a dot on the horizon. I was sitting on a rock, the waves lapping at my bare feet, and my wet clothes clung to my skin. I rubbed my head where I'd hid it. Oh good, you're awake. I heard a lilting voice exclaim, but could find no owner. Then I saw a head emerge from the waves and came face to face with the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. Such sepia skin, curly brown hair that seemed to tumble for infinity, and golden eyes that stared into my soul. But her most striking feature was the pair of black wings protruding from her shoulder blades. I tried to speak, but I could only stare in awe. And then another woman emerged, her blonde hair flowing in the sea breeze as she sat down next to me on the rock, analyzing me with a gaze-like marble trapped underwater. What's going on? I muttered. I heard some music, and then I recounted, remembering my fall. And what her? I cut myself off, not wanting to sound rude. The blonde one grimaced. You must have heard our song, I'm so sorry. We apologized. We didn't mean for you to get drawn in, though I suppose it happens all the time with you humans. I reflected for a bit, taking in the wings, the song, their sing-song manner of speaking. Wait, are you guys sirens? The brunette laughed. The one and only. We're sorry about the fall. We found you sinking a bit out into the waters, and we didn't know where you wanted to go, so we brought you out here. I hope that's all right with you. I nodded, still in shock. Wait, why are you apologizing? Aren't sirens supposed to be evil, luring sailors to their deaths and all that? A tragic side effect, I suppose. The brunette sighed, seeming genuinely apologetic. We don't mean to drown you humans, but our song is irresistible. Then why don't you just stop? I inquired, my tone coming across a bit angrier than I'd intended. The two beings exchanged looks, their eyes grew sad, reflecting on the past, I presumed. Finally, the blonde spoke. We can't. Come with us. We'll show you. The brunette grabbed me by my left arm and the blonde by my right, and suddenly I was going up, up, above the sea. I looked into the abyss, terrified that I'd slip and join the countless souls whom had made the ocean their grave, but the sirens held me tightly. Finally, when the rock I'd been stranded on was hardly visible, they stopped their ascent and hovered. See that dark blue patch? The brunette pointed at a bit of the ocean, that was only a slightly darker shade than the rest, so similar that I wouldn't have noticed it otherwise. I nodded. That's where it lives. She said. What is it? I replied. It's been there longer than we have. When we first awoke, the ocean was a far different place, waves that made your tsunamis look like splashes were commonplace and the few ocean life that remained were scattered across the depths of the ocean floor. But then we started singing and it seemed scared, cowering back. After a few millennia, the waves got better and the ocean became a safer place. But every so often, we hear it stirring and that's why we have to sing. The sailors are a tragic side effect, but we have to do our duty, or the world as you know it would be submerged. I hung there, processing the information. So that's why you were singing today? Yes, the blonde confirmed. It's gone deep down to the depths of the ocean now, but it could always come back. Finally, I heard a guttural moan and the dark spot in the ocean seemed to morph. The sirens hummed out a note and then everything went dark. Mom says they found me on the rocks, clothes dry and coughing up seawater. She and dad gave me a good talking to about the dangers of liquor and all that, but said they were just glad that I was safe. I pretended not to know what had happened, but I knew all too well. I never went in the water again after that day. People told me to get over it, that I'd survived and would have to face my fears eventually, but I refused. Now that I know what lurks down there in the ocean, I'd sooner die than get any closer.