Prologue

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The train rocked slightly as it rumbled down the track, riding eastwards through the night. The windows to the left showed the highway that ran parallel to the tracks, the windows to the right showed empty fields. There werenÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t more than a handful of passengers, and all of them were asleep. All except for one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The siren stepped quietly into the train car. Her dark eyes glinted in the pale neon lights that lined the ceiling. Her skin was a rich shade of olive that made it seem like she had stepped right of some sunny beach in the Mediterranean. Her hair was an impossibly dark shade of blue. It cascaded down the back of her head, tied together in a loose ponytail that ended between her shoulder blades. Her long dark coat covered her from her neck to her ankles. The fabric somehow made no noise as she swept onwards.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She hummed a soft, lilting melody under her breath as she walked down the aisle, her graceful stride completely unaffected by the trainÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s constant rocking. Her eyes darted back and forth, scanning the passengers. He wasnÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t in this car either. The melody of her hum became more frustrated. She pulled the door to the next compartment aside. Again nothing. She continued down the train. Nobody seemed to notice her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then, in the last compartment of the last train car she found him. He seemed to be the exact opposite of her. His hair burst from his skull in short red [bleep]es. His skin was drawn tightly over his skull, worn down by insomnia and malnutrition. The denim jacket he wore seemed to be held together almost entirely by safety pins and band patches. The jeans he wore were filthy, torn and faded. He was leaning against a khaki duffel bag, snoring softly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ãâ¦Ã¢â¬ÅSimonÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬ÃâæÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬ÃâÃ

aahhh!ahhhh! aghggg!!! (panics, running around in circles!)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ok, that was weird, and I've read some wierd things in my day...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

so is this a siren as in the odyssey? Or something different?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Mediterranean sun indeed)

Part 1

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Simon shifted around nervously, wanting to disappear into the shadows of the booth. For some reason, Irene thought it would be a good idea to drag him to this jazz club. He was used to sticking out, but this was ridiculous. Irene seemed to be oblivious to his discomfort, quietly sipping on her drink while watching the blind pianist on the stage. He sighed and closed his eyes, patiently waiting for his girlfriend to grow tired of the music and ask him to leave.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ãâ¦Ã¢â¬ÅLadies and gentlemen, we have a special treat for you tonightÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬ÃâæÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬ÃâÃ

How many times do I have to tell you. Forget all these different attempts, write a novel and get published!

Part 2

 

 

 

ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ãâ¦Ã¢â¬ÅHi, this is Simon. IÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢m not here right now but if-ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬ÃâÃ

Cripes...Dammit...This reminds me too much of the Odyssey...creepy...And you write so awe-inspiring...Dammit...

 

 

 

Okay...Go write a book, get it published, become famous, then blame the tipiters when your famous for nagging you to write a novel, where we go world renown and all of the famous movie stars come on tip.it...Thus we nag them... :-w