Author's Note:

Welcome everyone to this little dabble of mine. Whilst I wait for inspiration to return to me for my Persona story, I felt I needed something else to keep myself occupied. What better way than to watch 'American Horror Story'? I was totally hooked and I became OBSESSED with a certain ghostly figure, who I'm sure you have figured out by now. 'Freak Show' is undoubtedly my favourite season, and I just felt I had to write this. Hopefully you will enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Now, without any further ado, may I introduce you to... the first chapter of 'The Siren and the Spectre!'

(Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this other than my OCs, so far Mistress Madeleine and, obviously, Siren!)

They called her 'Siren'. It was the only name she accepted, if a little reluctantly. If she could have chosen, she would have preferred something else… but upon reading the old stories of sirens and sailors, she found herself strangely satisfied by the name, even if she often accompanied it with a bitter smirk.

The first Freak Show she was a part of was run by 'Mistress Madeleine', she was brought to it in 1948. She had only been young when she'd first been wheeled in, her wide eyes taking in everything around her. Though those big eyes did not shine with curiousity or the innocence of childhood; no, those eyes reflected the horrors only seen by veteran soldiers or detectives from stories.

Given her own caravan, a makeshift ramp up to the door, she was carried inside and settled onto the bed. Mistress brushed her hair slowly with her fingertips, the white of her costume now less dazzling in the dim light of the blank canvas of the caravan. This woman, her saviour, kept on petting her head as if she was a frightened kitten, whispering sweet comforts in this strange 'French' accent, pretending to occasionally forget herself and so slipped back into French once more.

'Mistress Madeleine and her Merry Band of Freaks and Oddities'. Quite a mouthful, she bitterly joked; the place which she'd now forever call home. She was no longer sure which part was the joke.

Curled up on a bed of alien materials, the softness feeling strange against her skin, she stared into space. The Mistress did not move for a long while, her hand lingering on the child's blonde hair, idly suggesting how she knew a great hairstylist or something that would clear up those tangles and bring out her true beauty. Siren cared not but did not voice her disinterest.

"Now, my little mermaid," Siren winced but the Mistress continued, "I shall leave you to get acquainted with your new home…" The woman stood, a false grace defining her every movement. She was a middle-aged woman; if it were not for the vibrant colours she coated herself in she would be just as unimpressive as the next chunky broad walking down the street. She spoke with the voice of culture, a 'French' accent. Yeah, that was bullshit.

"Just…" She waved her fingers in small circles for a moment, as if trying to pick out the right word before she forced it out at a greater volume, "Call for someone when you need help moving." Strange how a woman so very clearly born in Europe was unable to keep her accent straight, sometimes it ventured into the lands of Germany, Italy or even England. A poor actress, indeed.

The woman stepped out, closing the door behind her. Such tenderness… Siren frowned, lifting her hands up to wipe her cheek, a lipstick stain still lingering from when she was first brought into the camp. At least it was lipstick worn by Madeleine… however false the kindness could have been.

Imported, like a foreign good to be consumed, she now lay on this bed of fancy coloured, tasteless fabrics that made her look almost like she was to be treasured. Far from it. She blinked slowly, looking towards the open window, clearly envisioning getting up and running over the hills she saw from that pane of glass. A dream she would never be able to fulfil, even in the smallest of ways.

Green eyes, blonde hair, a vision of childhood beauty. Though appearances are always deceiving, aren't they?

Tucked up in a soft blanket of foreign warmth, this new little freak ran her eyes up and down the pale walls, the blank white curtains, the cheap wood. This new place of safety and pretty colours, banners all around, her face being painted at that very moment, she imagined… It was her new life. A prison, she believed.

She sat up slowly, her small fists grabbing at the sheets about her knees. She was thirsty.

Her head snapped to the side, eying the door with hatred. She closed her eyes tightly, willing things to be another way, any other way.

She turned her entire body to face the door, her eyes still closed. In her head, she imagined herself standing and running away once more. Running to the world she dreamed of, somewhere she could be happy again.

She did push off, she did try.

As she lay there, crumpled on the caravan floor, her eyes drier than ever before, the last remnants of her childhood died.

Like the little mermaid surrendering to the sea to become nothing but lifeless sea foam, the thirteen year old girl surrendered to the darkness that consumed her. Her heart beat steadily but all life seemed to drain from her.

She could have called for help, but she didn't. They'd find her eventually, likely when it was time to prepare for the show. She didn't care. Headliner or not, she couldn't care less.

What she would have given… to stand once more. To run in those infernal cross-country runs she always used to hate, to do that last minute dash to school and hear the yell of normality in her ear. Now, she could no longer do anything for herself. Now, she was nothing but a deformed freak.

She glanced down at what 'grew' from her mid thighs. The skin was joined, all the way down to her feet. The sides of them joined together as well. Not natural. Discoloured, patchy, scarred and ugly. A hellish tail created by only the most devilish of hands.

She looked away, stretching out her neck as if to get her head further away from that monstrosity. No one should have to see it, but now everyone would. She would sell that tail to be seen, sell her voice to be heard.

She smirked, resting her forehead against the wooden floor. The more she thought about it, the more it became like some sort of strange fairy-tale, like one she would have read as a child… Except there was no happy ending in sight.

Only freaks.

Author's Note:

There we have it, the opening and introduction to my newest OC, 'Siren'. Hopefully, the following chapters will be a bit longer than this as this was to try and set the scene a little bit...

But anyway, please do leave a review (I know there's not a whole lot to comment on so far but I promise there'll be more next time) and I hope you enjoyed! See you next time!