That night I tossed and turned in bed, replaying my conversation with Lorelei in an endless loop. My mind was flooded with mermaid legends and lore. They were said to be the sirens of ancient mythology, and in the stories the siren’s song was dangerous, more often than not resulting in disaster. One of the recurring themes was of their seductive voices making them irresistible. I thought about how the mermaid sounded to me, and I was reminded of a man I once heard playing hand bells on a street in San Francisco.
Evie and I had stopped, transfixed by the glorious resonant tones that seemed to vibrate right through your chest and into your soul. We both stood rooted to the ground until the last ringing note reverberated off the buildings all around us. I could still remember the look on the bell ringer’s face when Evie tipped him lavishly, took me by the hand, and walked away without a word.
Lorelei, I thought, remembering her beautiful voice. How on earth was it that I could hear it when my friends couldn’t? I resolved to find out more as I drifted off to sleep, lulled by the rumble of the surf, dreaming of distant chimes ringing out a beautiful tune.