The dull roar of the open sea surrounds a small fishing vessel and a man stands proudly at the wheel.
The stinging spray of the crashing waves, whips against the weathered glass rattling it. His gold tooth glints as a fork of wicked lighting, arcs across the storm blackened sky, illuminating the deck before him.
His crew had retreated to their bunks when the viscous waves had made work impossible, though none of them could sleep as the wood and metal around them groaned.
The man faced the raw fury of nature with an iron will, and knew that if he kept the bow faced into the waves, at a slow speed, then they would all live to see morning.
Another crash against the the ship, but something was wrong.. He hears yelling off somewhere in the hull as he feels the entire vessel suddenly jolt left, the rivets and wood groan and pop.
Had he run aground? no.. impossible. He was 30 miles out into the North Atlantic ocean!
Another crash, this time the bow pitches up hard and sends him tumbling back as the glass window shatters!
The man’s head bashes something, and gash opens up along the side of his temple. The sting of salt water bringing him back to his senses.
He squints through the blown out window into the full force of the storm. CRASH! Another blow tears into the ship and this time the metal hull screams and buckles. Wood splinters. Water surges in & the crew members start scrambling from below, towards the life boats. The aft end of the captains livelihood disappears into the inky depths of the atlantic behind them.
They could not see what the man staring out the window saw, the dark twisted and skittering shapes crawling up the sides of the boat, over the railing and onto the deck. Misshapen claws biting deep into wood and metal alike.
The man calls out to his crew, begs them to cast off without him. To get away.
Then from the oceans depths a great tentacle breaches the surface, it sways lazily, yet with incomprehensible weight and strength.
The crew call out for their captain, telling him it’s not to late. Never acknowledging death arching down at them. And with a great soft meaty thud the tendril crushes them as it curls over and begins to coil and twist about the ship.
The man doesn’t move, he can’t.. this wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. No part of him accepts or understands the nightmare he found himself in. He slumps to the floor with his back to the wall, his hand clutching the pendant over his chest as the cold ocean water begins to flood the bridge.
Downward he and his ship are pulled, prey to a monster no man could ever accept as real.
The fishing vessel disappears beneath the waves, and the shrieking fury of the storm is silenced. The bow tilts forward, dragged ever deeper.. and reveals what lay below. A great single slitted eye stares up at it’s prize glowing with grotesque orange light, surrounded on all sides by jabbering snapping jaws belonging to no animal the man could identify.
He screamed into the water, bubbles of his own lost breath momentarily obscuring his vision as he was pulled ever closer to that gigantic eye. His ears ache from the pressure of the ocean surrounding and crushing in on him.
His savior had abandoned him surely, and he would never see his dear beautiful wife again.
The man disappears into the blackness of the abyss, sinking towards that great monstrous pupil, into it..
For the people of Williams Port the night had been long and terrifying. Families huddled together for warmth and comfort as the storm raged outside, and quietly prayed to the gods that their roofs would withstand the wind and rain. The oil fueled lamps decorating the cobblestone streets had long gone out or been doused leaving the inky darkness of the night, save for one. The largest flame still burned brightly atop the light house. And at attention the lighthouse keeper sat at his station, eyes vigilantly scanning the harizon.
This wasn’t the season of storms, and truly they had earned the wrath of the gods. Penance would be given at first light.
Something caught his eye down the beach front, a light far off in the distance. Who would be crazy enough to be out in this storm? He turns his attention to it and waits.. lighting flashes and in a brief instance illuminates it’s source.
The lighthouse keeper launches from his chair and rings the bell, yelling for help through the wind and rain. “SOMEBODIES DOWN THERE! – SOMETHING – IS DOWN THE BEACH!”