To the Depths, We Sink

Summer. The novelty of it has rapidly diminished for me over the course of thirty-two years. Another spin around an ol’ dying star. A star destined to die. The experts all concur. That day is far, far off. It’s a day all of us currently shuttling through space will never bear witness to. Still, I can’t help but picture the sun's final moment. A vast, gargantuan blinding light, then a forever blackness. Nothingness. A whimper slips out from my lips.

“It’s quite a sight to behold.” Lost in my head, I never heard the fellow approach. His name escapes me, but I nod to him just the same, feigning acquaintanceship. “The Baltic Sea. How do the Swedes say it?”

“Östersjön.” My pronunciation is a little off as I am not a native speaker. It’s of no consequence to this fellow, who just nods his head, giddy to be engaged in human interaction. “Have we heard from the team yet?” I remove my pipe from my coat pocket.

The fellow shakes his head, frowning a bit. “Not a peep since the team broke 50-meters. Something down there must be interfering with our equipment.”

Striking a match, I light my pipe and take a deep puff. The sound of the waves gently nipping at the ship's hull lulls me into a false sense of serenity. I smoke. Below me, a check rests on the desk in my cabin. Screaming profanities at me. Insulting me.

I pat the fellow beside me on the shoulder. “I’m gonna head up. Don’t fret. We’ll hear from them soon.” I nearly convinced myself.

Halfway up the steps, the boat suddenly dips drastically to the starboard side. I steady myself, then bound up the remaining stairs. The boat dips spastically again as I burst through the door to the bridge.

“What’s the situation?” Inside the bridge is bustling with activity.

“Seismic spike. Looks like an explosion.” Succinct and to the point. No muss. No-fuss. Verifying the data on the monitor, I nod my head.

“Son of a…” Another wave rocks the boat.

Put enough zeroes on a check, and the most asinine proposal seems feasible. We all have a price. Had I been blind to the utter preposterousness of this expedition? It's too late now. Time to batten down the hatches and weather the incoming storm.

Out of my peripheral vision, I catch something long and dark, breaking the surface of the sea. Dizziness overcomes me. Darkness crashes upon me like a tidal wave.

--

Black swirls into the blue. Biting cold. Tingling pain. Centuries flash by in a blink. The hunger inside grows. There is a pain as steady as the ticking hands of time. I’ve been sleeping. Now I am awake. Hunger and anger are all that I feel now. Just below the urge to pass on my pain. Inflict pain and relish in it. Bathe in the blood of the uninitiated. As they scream my name before I send them into the void.

--

”Daddy! Please don’t go to the ocean again.” I kneel. The child runs into my arms. I squeeze him.

“I have to go, son. I shall return promptly.” I ruffle my son’s blond hair. “Close your eyes and then next thing you know I will be back! Then never again shall I leave you.”

“Promise?” Calvin’s eyes are clouded with tears. I catch one of his tears with my index finger and wipe it on my jeans.

“Pinky promise. The most sacred of promises.” Calvin and I entwine our pinkies.

--

My eyes flutter open. The world is a blur. Slowly I gain focus. Staring down at my pinky, I remember. Remember the promise. A promise I have no intention of breaking. I force myself to a sitting position.

The room is coated in blood. Every inch is dripping with gory bits and crimson sludge. Looking down upon my hands, they too are soaked in visceral secretions. Overcome with emotion, my tears too may as well be blood. I stand, then instantly sink to my knees and weep. I scream. I want to give up. The kinetic energy of the sea pleads for me to fight.

Something lurks nearby. Somewhere. Laughing, waiting to rain it’s pain down upon me. I wonder to myself, how I can know such things. Visions flicker in my mind. I’ve seen inside its mind somehow.

My mind grasps for intel. Protect yourself. Protect your crew, at all costs. Deep in the recesses of my mind, I see it: “Those operating large boats (longer than 12m in length) must carry one axe on board at all times.” An axe to cut the flesh of anything that threatens my crew or myself. Alas, it seems it is only I left to battle. I call out to the beast a warning: “If you bleed. Then, you shall bleed. It will be I that makes the first cut. My promise will be kept. Your blood will amplify my oath.”

As if to vocalize my threat, the sea rises up and tosses the boat to and fro. I clench my teeth as I wipe my bloodied hands upon my slacks.

--

Blood. My tongue salivates the indulgence of the copper sweetness of severed veins. I am satiated. I hear the puny cries of human dialect. I know these words. I know it all. A feeble threat. The last cawing of an insignificant pest. I shall inflict centuries of culminated anguish upon this speck of inconsequence.

--

I shatter the glass with my elbow. It stings, for sure. With the axe wielded in my hands, I pay no mind to the bruises and cuts. The ax is heavier than I imagined. I lower my head. I feel a great sadness that nearly glues me in place. It feels like trying to wade through tree sap. “Remember the promise.” The voice in my head is stern. It will not let me forget. I make my way toward the front of the ship.

--

The sea is angry as am I. The beast rises from the sea. Massive. A god. Eyes burning with fury and hatred. Tentacles dripping with blood and seawater. I sigh thinking of the check. Some things are better left unknown. However, we humans love to repeat the mistakes of our past. It’s a cyclical never-ending merry go round of suffering. I tighten my grip on the axe.

“This is it then? Anyway, we can talk this out?” I raise the axe a little, trying my best to be threatening.

The beast cackles at me and raises its tentacles to the sky. Water rains down on me as I lift the axe.

“To hell with you then beast!” I charge at the beast and lunge towards it with my axe ready to strike. I have promises to keep and gallons of blood to shed before I sleep.