Attempting to sing away the pain brought on by the cursed item digging into her wrist, the Siren found that her voice had brought calamity to creatures both in the sea and on the beach. Terrified and in agony, she was unsure what to do next. You chose for her to give in and follow the pull of the cursed message. Now our siren must walk the streets of Salem toward the message’s intended recipient. And so Witchever Path Presents Message in a Bottle, Part Three: Currents.
This episode starred Valentine Buchannan as the Siren
Read the transcript below (spoilers beware):
Narrator
Curiosity killed the cat. But what if you’re not a cat but a siren from the sea? After opening the bottle and reading the message it contained, the siren found herself bound, quite literally, to the pendant and message as they wrapped around her wrist and tugged her toward shore. Her voice seemed to soothe the cursed object’s painful grip but at the cost of attracting the attention of predators and the beaching of a pod of dolphins.
Desperate to remove the painful chain and ribbon from her arm, she considered her options: attempt to cut through the cloth and chain, risk more of her singing, or get dressed and allow herself to be led by the pendant to where it wished to go.
The audience chose for her to follow the pull of the message. And so Witchever Path presents Message in a Bottle Part Three: Currents
[sound of ribbon and chain tightening, people still yelling outside]
{SIREN grunting a bit from the pain before the narration}
[drawers opening, looking for clothes]
Siren
I can’t sing now. My neighbors are on the beach, fighting over how to help the dolphins get back into the water. My call will wear off soon if I get further away. They’ll stop trying to land on the beach. But they were responding to my pain. This is my fault.
I pull the wet sundress off, my wrist throbbing.
“Just let me finish; I’ll take you where you want me to… just let me get ready.”
I use the towel I had been drying over our chair to scrape some of the sand off. I change into a black jersey dress, struggling to get my right arm through without causing more pain. I need to wash my wrist and try to bandage it.
[faucet]
{Siren wincing in pain}
[sound of package opening]
[faucet turns off]
There. The gauze over the ribbon and chain should help, but I can feel the cold pendant pressed against my forearm continuously shifting as though it’s trying to find its way out of the dressing. I find a new mask for my face, a black cotton one. One that breathes well. I grab my purse and sling it over my left shoulder—time to go.
[the door opens]
[sound of the outside calamity. Rescue trucks coming, news vans]
The neighborhood is filled with screaming sirens, helicopters, and news vans looking for a place to park on our tiny streets. I take shortcuts through the little alleyways between the buildings to avoid reporters or the gaze of anyone who may use today to speak with me later. I get to Derby Street and cross the road. The laundromat is abuzz with excitement as the people inside are watching the marine rescue and crowds making their way in the opposite direction toward the beach.
I’m cradling my arm and feeling the pain shoot up my arm. I’m unsure where to go. I raced here on my own, with the pain increasing with each step. I stop on the corner and breathe. I let go of my arm. And it straightens and lifts on its own, pointing toward the town center. Where most of the people who visit this little city will be. I pull my arm to my side and walk in the direction it pointed.
I walk for ten minutes, and the morning sun gets brighter. I should have worn a hat. I just remembered that I forgot to bring my water bottle. I walk past a church and then a bronze statue of a Puritan who would have likely hanged the Catholics who had built that place of worship. My right hand trembles at the intersection, and I feel it pulled to the left, so I make that turn.
My steps are not my own as I walk past a fake British pub and three shops owned by authentic witches if their signs are to be believed. The smell of frankincense and jasmine floats on the breeze. The sidewalk changes from pavement to brick. Few people out here this morning notice me and fight the urge to stare. They avert their eyes and pretend they don’t steal glances when they think I won’t notice. My peripheral vision is better than most, and as I pass each of them, I see their heads turn. In the morning light, the thin scales on my arms and chest look like scarification or a skin condition.
The pain in my arm and the people around me have my full attention, and so by the time I notice the dog, it’s too late.
[barking]
[fall]
[apologizing and offering to help her up]
[dog stops barking but panting]
The owners are apologetic. The big black dog steps back from me and sits. The brown patches above its eyes make it appear puzzled and concerned, like it regretted lunging at me. It has a kind face now. I look at its massive paws, which look somewhat off. The toes look longer, set further apart. I accept their apology and take the man’s hand when he offers it. He helps me to my feet. He and his wife notice my hand and ask if I need help. Their dog sniffs at my bandage and then pushes himself between me and the man, growling lightly. His concern is gone. He is telling me to leave.
I assure them I will be fine, but my voice is strained as the pendant scrapes against my inner arm, urging me forward. I follow its pull through side streets, further away from the tourists, into the old neighborhoods of tightly packed homes and apartment buildings.
Far away from downtown foot traffic, I’m relieved the only people who see me are in their cars. The alleyways and small roads would be more interesting if it weren’t for the persistent throbbing of my arm. The smell of fresh water from the North River is in the breeze. And when I get to River Street, I feel the ribbon and necklace loosen for a moment, and I take a breath before…
[snap and twist]
[Siren grunts in pain]
The ribbon tightens again, and my hand is pulled up from my side and points to a small, yellow house wedged between two larger homes.
All right, stop hurting me… I’ll go.
The home has a little green yard and a white picket fence about waist-high. There are window boxes filled with green herbs. My arm jerks toward the house, and I grab it with my free hand and pull it down as I walk toward the little gate. I start to reach for its side latch.
[birds and city sounds stop]
Everything goes quiet. No birds, no cars. No white noise. It’s just my heartbeat. The world is still. The clouds swallow up the blue sky. Sitting on the Adirondack chair in the yard is the waterlogged form Richard… White cataracts over his pupils. His black hair is clinging to his mottled flesh in wet ropes.
His neck is broken, and his head rests on his left shoulder. He has a look of terror on his face as though his last moments were a horror. And then his mouth starts to move…
“Mom, there’s a lady at the gate!”
[door slams]
[The sound of the streets comes back]
He’s gone. The sky is blue… and I look in time to see the door opening. A Black Woman with long braids tied up in a ponytail walks out of the house. There is movement behind one of the windows. A little girl is watching us.
The ribbon saws into my flesh. The woman is holding a claw hammer.
“Can I help you?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “ I was led here.”
My right-hand gestures to the gate. The pain in my wrist makes my nails protrude out from my fingertips, and my claws are on display. The woman’s eyes are wide. She takes a step forward.
“Don’t touch that gate. Why are you here?”
“I opened a bottle in the sea. What was inside… it led me here.”
My hand reaches for the gate.
“Bitch, keep your hand off the gate.”
“I can’t control it… It’s hurting me. It made me hurt the dolphins… I’m cursed.”
And at that, the woman takes a step back.
“What hurt you?”
“The message… I read it, and it… wrapped itself around my arm.”
“Show me your face.”
She is squeezing the handle of the hammer tightly. She will attack me if I get closer. My hand is fighting me to free itself.
“I can’t… I’m… you won’t help me. And I need help.”
“Then show me your wrist.”
“ I don’t know if I can control my hand anymore. It started pulling me here, and I don’t know what it will do.”
“You want me to keep talking; you’ll do one of those. Otherwise, you’re going to leave now. Your kind don’t get free help from me.”
My kind? She knows… And then I see in her eyes a power that I haven’t seen a human being possess since I was just a girl… And I am more afraid than in pain.
“All right,” I say.
Our siren’s choices are:
- Show her face.
- Show her wrist.
- Or Sing to calm everything down.
Make your decision now at WitcheverPath.com/vote. You have until September 25.
- Valentine Buchanan is your Siren.
- Journee LaFond returns as Makayla
- Eva LaFond as Lilly.
The theme song was by Rydr.
The following songs come courtesy of EpidemicSound.com:
- Warning Signal by Max Anson
- Rise From the Shadows by Hampus Naeselius
- Tourbillon by Edward Karl Hanson
Foley by Witchever Path, with supplementary effects by Epidemic Sound, and Audio Hero.
If you like what you heard, there’s even more to this story at patreon.com/witcheverpath. Not only will you get extra episodes and behind the scene content, you’ll also help support our show. Consider a subscription today.
That’s it for today’s episode. Take care of yourself and sleep with a clear consequence. Choose the Path.
