The Cry of the Deep Sea

(Part 1) As usual, we were preparing to go fishing. Me and my 15 fellow laborers, who work with me on the boat, were getting ready. Before dusk, we packed the nets, flashlights, food, and everything else, then set sail. Crossing the river, we slowly moved into the deep sea. The wind was cold, the stars twinkled faintly in the sky. The sea was calm, yet an unfamiliar emptiness seemed to linger in the air.

As night deepened, the fishing began. Everyone was busy—some casting nets, some hauling them in, others sorting fish into buckets. It was nearly midnight when suddenly, a strange, mournful wailing sound reached our ears. At first, we thought it was the waves, but no—it was unmistakably the cry of a woman’s voice.

I glanced around but saw nothing except darkness. Yet, everyone froze. No one pulled the nets or spoke. Breaking the silence, I said,

“It’s nothing, brothers. Probably an animal’s cry or the wind. Focus on work—we’ll lose the fish if we waste time.”

Hearing this, everyone resumed working. But soon, the crying returned—louder and closer this time. The sound was so grotesque and heart-wrenching that even the bravest among us had fear in their eyes. We couldn’t stay silent anymore. Grabbing a flashlight, I shouted,

“Let’s check it out. Something’s definitely happening.”

Three of us moved forward. Shining the flashlight toward one side of the boat, we spotted a small yacht floating about 150 feet away. The strangest thing? There were no lights on it, even in the middle of the deep sea at this hour. It looked abandoned—no movement, no sound.

As we approached, a cold dread settled in our chests. When we reached the yacht, we saw a girl sitting there, her head bowed, dressed in white clothes soaked and clinging to her body. Her hands rested on her lap, her hair dripping wet, her face hidden.

I called out,

“Sister, are you alone here? Are you in trouble?”

No answer.

I tried again,

“Come to our boat. It’s not safe here in the deep sea.”

This time, she lifted her head slightly. Even in the dark, the flashlight revealed what I’ll never forget: her eyes were red, lidless, her face streaked with water, her lips twisted into an unnatural smile—a cursed blend of weeping and laughter.

One of the crewmen gasped,

“Brother, that’s not human! It’s something else!”

I screamed,

“Get back to the boat! Don’t go near it!”

But it was too late. Suddenly, the girl stood up on the yacht and, with a jerk, leaped into the water! Yet there was no splash, no ripple—her body dissolved into the sea as if she were a waterlogged ghost!

We scrambled back to our boat, drenched in sweat, shivering. Our boatman muttered,

“We should’ve avoided this area. There are old stories about this place. Years ago, a girl drowned here with her family during a storm. No bodies were ever found. Since then, people sometimes hear cries here late at night.”

I couldn’t believe it, but what we’d seen was undeniable. No one wanted to cast nets anymore. We sat in silence and sailed straight back to shore.

By dawn, we reached the coast. Everyone looked grim, eyes heavy with exhaustion and terror. For years after that, we avoided that part of the sea.

But even now, sometimes a piece of a white scarf gets tangled in our nets… and in the darkness of the deep sea, an unknown cry still echoes…

[To be continued...]