By If you have read enough original Grimm or Anderson fairy tales you know that Disney had to tone them way down to be G rated. The prompt this week was to retell a fairy tale and in the spirit of spooky season – go dark with it.
I don’t think my retelling is really horror but it was a fun writing prompt. What version of fairy tales do you prefer? Let me know in the comments.
The Little Mermaid Retelling
A decade of war, a decade of sorrow and blood and mangled bodies. In times of old the sirens sang to sailors and they were devoured while in ecstasy. Those sailors with sound mind would block their ears and flight back when sailing though infested waters. It was a deadly balance but a balance non-the-less. Sirens were a known danger but they stayed in tropical waters. At least they did until a king ordered them captured and not killed.
Captured Sirens could not sing out of salt water and the king fed them on the blood of his prisoners, underestimating them. Thinking them only flesh hungry monsters. A siren princess spared their meal and when the guard came to execute the next, a woman, siren and convict attacked. Her escape heralded war.
No longer content to stay in their ancestral waters, the sirens expanded to all the seas. Targeting ships with insignia of lords and kings. Killing and taking captives of their own. My father was that king, the fool who captured sirens. Had he released them, the war would have ended before it began. His pride ruined us. No merchants will come near our ports, allies that sent ships at the start have abandoned us, we aren’t worth the risk.
But now, the King is Dead, Long Live the King. Murdered at the hands of bankrupt lords, body thrown into the sea. I have been given one chance to stop the war. If I fail I either abdicate or they kill me too. My first act as king was to release the still living captured sirens, tortured as they had been by my father and his men, maybe they would save us or maybe not. I sent them with a message that I wished to meet with their queen, a redheaded beauty that wields a trident.
Her daughter, a raven haired siren with eyes as green as sea grass delivered the queen’s response yesterday. I alone am expected to meet her just outside the harbor tonight at moonrise. I expect this will be my doom. I am willing if it means my family and country survive. Without sea trade we are lost, coffers empty.
“You came young king,” the voice that greets me is melodic but she is not controlling me with her song, not yet at least. I spin in my row boat and there she sits, red hair, eyes as blue as the sea, and a fish tale where legs would be, resting on a rock, scales sparkling in the full moon light.
“I want this war over as much as you,” I hope. I responded, begging my voice not to shake.
“What if we like our new territory and do not wish to leave?” Her voice was filled with humor, she knew she held all the cards. We were dying on our island home.
“Please,” I was reduced to begging. “Please, what can I do? Not the crown, not the kingdom, me.” I stared at her as she slipped from the rock where she had lounged, and swam slowly through the moon-silver water towards me. She pulled her lithe form into my small boat.
“A trade,” she said and smiled with teeth. Her teeth were sharp and gleaming, meant for ripping flesh from bone. “A treaty sealed in blood and you and we leave back to our ancestral waters.”
“What do you want in the treaty?” Blood, self sacrifice, the language of magic.
She ran her fingers up my arm, making me shiver. “No more captured sirens. We go back to the way things were: predators and prey in equal measure. If your kingdom breaks it they all die.” She leaned in, her cold lips touching my ear, “and so do the other human kingdoms that our waters touch.”
I swallowed, the fate of the human world was on my shoulders. “Agreeded. When do I die?” She had said she wanted me, I was happy to make the sacrifice.
“Die?” She cackled, throwing her head back in the moonlight, hair rippling down her back. “Oh no, little king. There is work to be done. You will be my consort.” I stared at her in horror and fascination. Would I be betraying my own people? Why did the idea of being her consort excite me? This life of mine would not be as I expected but I would happily take this over death.
Thank you KW Photography for allowing me to use your wonderful photos!
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McGee Travel Tales 