Sailors hang from wooden bulwarks and riggings, straining to identify the source of the ethereal singing drifting through the air. You look around and see the enthused expressions on their faces, their smiles in complete contrast to the vacant stare of their eyes. A lithe, sensual form sits on a rock by the ship, and you feel yourself drawn forward. Right as your senses recalibrate and your mind pulls you sharply back, you notice the form has become an old, deformed woman with a grotesque grin, waving her hands as if pulling on an invisible rope.
