The world’s oceans contain many dark secrets

I’m breaking so many of my own rules by posting this account on an online forum and under an alias. In my long and (dare I say it) distinguished career as a freelance investigative journalist I have never taken such an action. Nor have I ever published a story without first checking and double checking my information.

In actual fact, I only have one source for the majority of the stories I plan to recount. One man who was branded a maverick and lunatic by the authorities – the people in power who were so eager to silence him.

I’ll confess that I was very cynical when I first heard the old seaman’s outlandish tales. I’ve never been a believer in the supernatural world and have based all my beliefs in hard scientific fact. But recent events have changed my mind, and my source is a man I’ve grown to trust.

Even so, I wish I had the opportunity to further investigate the claims made and obtain conclusive evidence. But alas, I fear my time is limited. The government may come after me. Certainly, they have the incentive to silence me. Still, during my career I’ve faced down many petty bureaucrats, secret policemen, and tinpot dictators. Governments don’t scare me anymore, but what lies beneath the deep blue sea certainly does.

I’m sure you’re all familiar with thalassophobia – that is, the persistent and intense fear of deep bodies of water. This was never a phobia that affected me to any great degree. In times past, my rational mind would have written such fears off as an evolutionary response or a result of watching so many killer shark movies.

I never would have dreamt that our oceans were home to so many dark secrets and evils almost beyond human comprehension. Some say ignorance is bliss, but this was never a philosophy I adhered to. In fact, I have always prided myself on my thirst for knowledge and passion to pursue the truth. That’s why I became a journalist after all.

But, given what I’ve learnt and the sheer terror which has now invaded my conscious mind, I’m left to wonder whether its all been worth it. But I can’t turn back the clock or erase this knowledge from my memory. Nor can I escape the dark power which has its icy grip upon me. In the end, I feel compelled to write and tell this story, even if it’s the last thing I do in this world.

What can I say about Jack Brady – my fearless source and a legend of the oceanic community who risked everything to tell me the truth. Jack was in his early 70s by the time I made his acquaintance – a man with a full life’s experience behind him but still filled with a steely determination and defiance, visible even under his world-weary eyes and wrinkled skin.

Its hard to believe that it’s only been a month since old Jack first contacted me by email to request a meeting. Jack hinted that he had a story of great importance which he wished to impart to me, and only me. Apparently he’d read some of my previous exposés and felt I was the right man for the job.

I’ll confess that I almost dismissed and deleted the unsolicited email out of hand. I receive a lot of hoax and crank messages given my career, and Jack’s vague descriptions of ‘the secrets of the seven seas’ frankly sounded like a lot of BS. But I didn’t delete the email and instead sent a reply to arrange a meeting.

I can’t say why exactly. Call it a journalist’s instinct, but I got a whiff of a story and had to follow the lead. I didn’t walk into the meeting blind however. As always, I did my due diligence and looked into Jack before going to meet him. I soon discovered that my source had lived an interesting life and varied career – although his passion for the sea was a constant.

Born and raised in an Irish Catholic family in Boston, Jack had left home to join the navy at 18 and spent the next five years in the service. After his honourable discharge, our hero worked as a diver in the West Indies for several years before an unspecified incident made him suddenly quit and seek a new career.

His employment history was rather vague after this point, at least according to the official record. He was formerly employed by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration for nearly four decades, although I noted how Jack was officially listed as an ‘independent contractor’ on their roster.

It was unclear what work Jack Brady did for this seemingly mundane and unremarkable government agency, but his email strongly implied the NOAA was a part of a wider conspiracy. But what were they covering up? Jack’s initial email didn’t provide the details, but he did send a number of hyperlinks leading to obscure and seemingly unrelated articles.
I read the collection of news stories, scientific journals, and Wikipedia articles which covered everything from biblical sea monsters to the lost city of Atlantis and unexplained underwater sounds. I could only see one thing which linked these stories together, and that was Jack Brady’s lifelong passion – the seven seas.

We met in a ‘spit and sawdust’ bar in the harbour district, the type of place where the patrons glared at you suspiciously when you entered. I found Jack sitting at the bar nursing a large glass of whiskey. His appearance was much as I would have expected. Jack was a large man, not overweight but well-built. I noted an old scar across his right cheek and how his deep blue eyes were focussed despite the alcohol he’d already consumed.

Jack greeted me cooly, shaking my hand firmly and nodding his head. He offered me a drink which I politely declined and motioned me over to a corner booth where he said we could talk in private. For whatever reason, Jack refused to let me record our conversation and so I did my best to transcribe his words in shorthand.

I started by asking him questions about his upbringing and early career, just to get a feel for the old timer. His answers were short and to the point. He’d grown up in a sea-faring family and was taught to sail at an early age. Jack said little about his time spent in the navy, only saying that he’d served as an enlisted sailor on a destroyer and was deployed to the South China Sea during the fall of Saigon.

It was clear that he didn’t wish to talk about his personal and family life, but he was keen to recount a story from his time working as a rescue diver in the Bahamas.

“The thirteenth of July 1982. I’ll never forget the date. I know it’s a cliché, but that was the day which changed my life forever. I got a call that morning from the Nassau police asking for my help with a body recovery offshore. A fisherman had reported seeing a corpse standing upright in the shallow waters.”

“Standing upright?” I interjected in confusion.

“Yeah.” Jack replied, “His feet were encased in concrete. Real mafia shit…sleeping with the fishes, you know?”

I raised my eyebrow in surprise.
“Wow, that’s unusual. No?”

“Not really.” Jack responded with a simple shrug of his shoulders, before he took another swig of whiskey. “At the time we were right in the middle of the busiest drug smuggling route in the Western Hemisphere. Drug runners have disputes and corpses end up in the water. Body recoveries were pretty common. The circumstances were strange, but it was only once I got into the water that I realised something wasn’t right.”

“How so?” I asked, my interest now piqued.

“Well, it was a hot day – temperatures in the high 90s. The water should have been warm. But, when I made the dive, it was ice cold. I remember shivering once I breached the surface. It made no sense, but things only got weirder from that point.”

He paused again to take another gulp of hard liquor. I guess Jack needed the Dutch courage to continue and I noticed how the colour had drained from his face.

“The body wasn’t deep – only twenty to thirty metres down. We weren’t far from the shore and the water was crystal clear, and so I could see the body from the surface. So despite the warning signs I made the dive.

Like I said, the water was impossibly cold – but there was something else. There were no fish anywhere in the vicinity. Now, I’ve dealt with a lot of body recoveries and, when a corpse is underwater for any length of time, its going to attract scavengers. The bottom feeders come first and the bigger predators follow once they smell blood in the water. Nature takes its course, and before long nothing’s left but bone and cartilage. But on this dive there wasn’t a living thing to be seen.”

I was puzzled by the direction the story was going but also intrigued. I noticed how Jack’s voice had lowered in volume and he appeared reluctant to continue his account, so I had to prompt him.

“Go on.” I whispered.

Jack broke eye contact, staring down at his glass before continuing. “Like I said, I made the dive and saw the body close up. I already told you about his feet being encased in concrete. I don’t know who did that to him, but I guess they had their reasons.

The body was male and about 6 foot in height, but that’s about all I could tell about the victim. His clothes were ripped and torn and his flesh was rotting. There was no evidence that any animals had feasted upon him, but nevertheless the man’s body was falling apart.
The decomposition was advanced and it seemed like the corpse had been in the water for a long time. But this made no sense, because the body had only been seen and reported that morning. The victim wasn’t in deep water and was visible from the surface, so there’s no way it could have been missed for any length of time.

I was puzzled by the body’s condition but my main concern was how to get him up to the surface. I knew I’d need specialist equipment to do so and was preparing to ascend back up and return to my boat. But then I saw it and my whole body just froze…”

“What did you see?” I asked impatiently.

Jack finished the rest of his drink before he answered, his voice shaking as he spoke.
“The dead man’s eyes were closed, and then suddenly they weren’t. He opened his eyelids and stared straight at me. God, those eyes…they were like nothing I’ve ever seen in my life – jet black and soulless. Truly monstrous eyes.

I was frozen for a long moment, not believing what I was seeing. But there was more. The corpse opened its mouth and revealed a gaping black hole, which to me looked like a portal to hell itself. Water seeped into his mouth, and I think he was trying to scream. But the sound was muffled underwater.

He couldn’t move his feet but the monster reached out towards me with his bony, claw-like hands. Thankfully I was just out of his reach, but I stumbled backwards and fell down to the seabed. The monster was still screaming, desperately trying to get at me as his black eyes burnt with pure hatred…Well, what can I say? I got the hell out of there and swam back to the surface, leaving the raging monster trapped on the seabed.

I reported what I’d seen back to the Nassau police and the investigating detective looked at me like I was crazy. I began to think that I’d just imagined the whole incident. Had I hallucinated it? Was I going nuts? I did doubt my own sanity, but then the police sent out another diver and I guess he had a similar experience to me. In fact, I believe he was injured during his dive as the monster clawed through his suit and skin.

After that, the situation escalated. The local authorities didn’t know what to do with that creature and so an expert was called in from the States. I don’t know for certain what happened next, but I believe the US government extracted the creature and transported it back to the States. Why, I can’t say and frankly I don’t want to know.”

Jack’s first account ended at this point. I’ll confess that my initial instinct was to burst out in laughter, but thankfully I stopped myself after reading Jack’s tense body language. I could tell that he wasn’t deliberately trying to mislead me or waste my time. His story was ridiculous and surely impossible but he seemed to genuinely believe this incident had occurred.

I imagined he’d hallucinated the encounter with the undead being on the seabed. Perhaps there had been something toxic in the water, or maybe he was suffering from PTSD as a result of his military service. Either way, I didn’t believe his account.

In that moment I didn’t know what to say, literally being left speechless by the absurdity of Jack’s story. In the end it was Jack who broke the awkward silence as it seemed he could read my mind.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” he exclaimed cooly, “You think I’m full of shit.”

He looked me straight in the eye as he asked his loaded question, and I suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry Jack, but its just not plausible. I’m a professional journalist and I don’t chase after ghosts and ghouls.”

Jack smirked and shook his head, but he still maintained eye contact across the table.
“That’s okay. I didn’t expect you to believe me, not at first anyway. And I don’t have any physical proof for this story. But I have many more accounts to tell you and the evidence to back them up. I’m happy to share what I’ve got but I appreciate there’s a leap of faith needed on your part. If you want to walk away I won’t hold it against you. No harm, no foul. But if you want to dig deeper, you have my contact details. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need another drink.”

I left the bar soon after, my head spinning from the bizarre encounter. I’d seen and heard some crazy things during my career, but never anything like Jack’s story. Normally I’d write off any tales of the paranormal out of hand. But there was something about Jack Brady which impressed me. He didn’t seem like your average fantasist or crackpot and I couldn’t help feeling there was an actual story here.

I did do my research into the Bahamas incident but found little to back up Jack’s account. My attempts to reach out to the Nassau police came to nothing. But then, Jack had claimed the incident was covered up by the authorities.

I did find one short article in an archived newspaper which confirmed that a body had been reported at that location on the same date. What I found interesting was that there were no follow up stories in the paper, which one would have expected to see if there was an ongoing investigation.

I had experience in this field and the whole thing did stink of a cover up and media suppression. I think this was what persuaded me to get back in contact with Jack and arrange a second meeting. I still didn’t think he’d encountered an undead ghoul off the coast of the Bahamas, but I did believe he had an insight into a world of secrets and conspiracies.
Our next meeting took place on a sunny afternoon at the marina, as the two of us walked along the jetty and looked out to sea. Jack was keen to show me his sailing boat – a beautifully crafted and maintained twenty-five-footer called the Nautilus, its name neatly emblazoned upon the ship’s hull.

“She’s a beauty.” I said enthusiastically whilst noting Jack’s pride. “Will you take her out today?”

Jack’s face turned pale upon hearing the question and I wondered what I’d said wrong. There was a tense pause before Jack finally answered, and I noted a terrible sadness in his voice when he spoke.

“No, I haven’t been out to sea since my retirement. I doubt I ever will again. Really I should sell the old boat, but I just can’t bear to be parted from her.”

I didn’t know how to respond to this statement but I filed the information away for future reference. Whether Jack’s experiences were real or imagined, it seemed clear he was suffering from significant trauma.

We walked back down the jetty and took a seat on a bench under the warm sun. It was then that Jack told me about his career change following the incident in the Bahamas.

“The Nassau job was a good gig. Sure, I saw some bad stuff – but I also saved a lot of people and did some good. And it was a beautiful place to live – a real tropical paradise. If it hadn’t been for the incident I might have stayed down there indefinitely.

But seeing something like that changes a man. Its like my eyes were opened and suddenly I could see through the looking glass. I was also intrigued by the ‘expert’ they’d called in to deal with the creature I’d encountered. The fact that a team had been sent from my home country suggested this wasn’t a one-off incident, and our government knew what was really going on beneath the surface. And, as it turned out, my suspicions were well-founded.

I started asking question through my military contacts. I guess it was pretty foolish to be poking my nose into dark places and shadowy government agencies. But thankfully the men-in-black didn’t come to arrest me and ship me away to an off-the-grid prison. Quite the opposite in fact, because I received a phone call offering me a job.”

I raised my eyebrow but couldn’t help but feel excited upon hearing this revelation. Was this the government conspiracy I yearned to hear of?

“The call was from a Mr Smith…and no, I’m not kidding. That was really his name. Andrew Smith worked for the NOAA, which on the surface was a pretty dull civil service job. But Andy headed up a department which wasn’t officially on the books. In fact, their entire existence was and still is denied by the federal government. The section Smith managed was called the ‘Oceanic Special Investigation Unit’. Again, it’s an innocuous name – but what this unit does is extraordinary.”

“So, this guy gave you a job?” I asked.

“Yeah.” Jack replied with a nod, “He’d heard I’d been asking questions and looked into me. I guess Andy saw something in me and reckoned I could help them out. He was the expert they’d brought in to deal with the ghoul in the Bahamas.

His team successfully captured and contained the creature before handing it over to the military. He doesn’t know what happened to it next, nor do I. Hell, the zombie could still be locked up in Area 51 for all I know. By my intuition was correct. There were a lot of unexplained mysteries and phenomenon in the world’s oceans, and the OSIU was tasked with investigating them.”

Jack spent the next few minutes explaining the structure and remit of the investigative unit and describing his early years working for the agency. He began in the position of junior investigator but soon worked his way up the ranks under Smith’s mentorship. During this time he was sent around the world on various cases relating to bizarre incidents and sightings in all of the planet’s oceans.

Jack confirmed that most of these reports were either hoaxes, local myths, or had some kind of logical explanation. The unit might go for years without any legitimate paranormal or cryptid activity and there would be constant threats from the legislators to cut their funding. But then a real case would come to the fore and the powers-that-be would take notice.
The story he told me on that sunny afternoon at the marina was short but unsettling, as he described sightings of an entity simply known as ‘the swimmer’.

“This one started out as another legend, so at first we thought it was more BS.” Jack explained, “There are accounts of the swimmer throughout history, going back to the time of the Roman Empire. What’s interesting though is that the same story is replicated across different cultures and civilisations across the globe.

In all accounts the details were eerily similar. Sailors spoke of a single swimmer – a man with bronzed skin…sometimes naked, other times wearing clothing or even a swimsuit. But he’s always seen way out at sea. I mean, sometimes this guy’s hundreds of miles from the nearest land, way too far for any normal human being to swim.

When he’s sighted, there are never any other boats in the vicinity and no indication of how he ended up in the open ocean. Weird huh? But it gets weirder. The captains of many ships have attempted to save the man, but every attempt to hail him or even physically pull the guy from the water have failed. This man or entity remains oblivious and just keeps swimming.”

“Wow.” I said in the absence of any other words.

The legend was indeed strange and quite chilling but it sounded like nothing more than a myth. But of course, Jack had more to add.

“I took the case during the winter of 1988 after reports of the swimmer being sighted in the Atlantic, about two hundred miles east of Bermuda. Mr Smith didn’t give much credence to the reports but he sent me to investigate all the same.

I hitched a ride on a navy frigate on patrol and we were allowed to use their recon helicopter to search for the entity. Honestly, it was potluck that we found him given that we only had an approximate location. But find him we did, and this time I got proof.”

At this point, Jack removed his phone from his pocket and played me a video. The original footage was grainy and rough and did seem to have been recorded on an 80s camcorder, presumably being later converted into a digital video file.

The clip had apparently been filmed from a helicopter flying over open water, and I could hear the din of rotor blades through the phone’s speakers. The chopper was flying in poor weather and the grey waters below were rough, with heavy waves emerging and breaking with a violent intensity.

Suddenly the cameraman zoomed in, and that’s when I saw him. The lone swimmer was face down and dressed in bright red trunks. I couldn’t see his face but the man’s actions were extraordinary. I watched awestruck as he swam against the waves, not panicking and somehow remaining above the surface.

He didn’t look up when the helicopter flew over him and didn’t react to the hails from the chopper’s loudspeakers. Instead he just kept on swimming, even as the waves threatened to overwhelm him.

The camera focussed on the man for several seconds before zooming back out. Next, the cameraman scanned the horizon, confirming that there was no land and no other ships or planes anywhere in sight. All I could see was endless ocean in every direction. And then the footage abruptly ended.

I looked up from the screen and saw Jack watching me intently.
“Wow.” I repeated but didn’t elaborate.

The footage was convincing but I couldn’t guarantee it wasn’t staged.
“Did you find out who he was?” I asked.

“No.” Jack confirmed with a shake of his head, “Its an unsolved case to this day, but I have my theories.”

“Oh?” I said with genuine interest.

Jack paused briefly, appearing deep in thought as he looked out to sea.

“Have you ever heard the legend of the Wandering Jew? It’s a medieval fable about a man who taunted Jesus on the cross and was cursed to walk the Earth until the Second Coming.”

“The story sounds familiar.” I confirmed.

“Well, I believe the swimmer is his nautical equivalent. He was once a mortal man but committed a grave sin. Now, he’s cursed to swim the world’s oceans until the end of time. He doesn’t tire, can’t sink under the surface, and can never stop. No-one can help this poor soul and so we must leave him to his fate.”

I felt sick after hearing Jack’s theory. I wasn’t a religious man and hadn’t been inside a church for years. But there was something truly chilling about the idea of a lost soul – a cursed man who was exiled from the land itself and doomed to swim the world’s cruel seas for all eternity.

Our second meeting ended soon after with Jack telling me to get in touch if I wanted to learn more. Once again I did my research after the encounter. There are numerous mentions and accounts of ‘the swimmer’ or ‘swimming man’ throughout history and across the globe, so that much is true.

But I couldn’t find the video footage Jack had shown me anywhere online. I didn’t believe the video was doctored. Its possible it was staged. The man swimming might have been dropped from the helicopter and then recovered after the film was shot. But why take the risk in such bad weather conditions? It just didn’t add up.

Nevertheless, by this time I was hooked, and I wasted no time before arranging my next meet up with Jack. For our third interview Jack invited me to his home, which I took as a good sign because this surely meant I was gaining his trust.

He lived in a small, spartan one-bedroom apartment not far from the harbour. The flat was tidy and well-kept but very basic. I noted the various liquor bottles stacked up in the kitchen and wondered whether Jack had a drinking problem. In any event, he offered me a cup of coffee which I accepted.

We sat in his small living room and I noted the collection of well-thumbed books on the shelves. As one would expect, Jack owned many publications on sailing and naval history. But I noticed other editions on such diverse topics as religion, philosophy and mythology.
I was also surprised to see a pristine copy of the King James’s Bible sitting on the coffee table. Jack hadn’t struck me as being the religious type, but perhaps what he’d been through had changed his outlook. As for me, I was intrigued but still cynical – yet to be persuaded by Jack’s outlandish tales.

I watched as Jack set up his TV to stream a video from his phone and was mildly impressed to see a man of his age who was tech savvy. He didn’t play me the video straight away, instead offering me an explanation.

“I apologise that I’m not able to share this file with you. The same goes for the swimmer footage. I’m not meant to have these videos and I’m certainly not allowed to show them to journalists. I’m breaking multiple federal laws by just talking to you now. Call me uncommitted if you will, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in prison. If and when I die however…that’s a different story. I’m happy to bequeath all the evidence I have to you on the condition that you break this story wide open.”

“Okay.” I answered, not quite sure what else to say.

Jack leaned in close before asking his question. “Well friend, I’m sure you’ve heard of the Lost City of Atlantis?”

This time I couldn’t help myself from laughing at the absurdity of his question.
“Sure. Don’t tell me you guys found it?”

Jack shared in my amusement, sniggering amicably as he answered.

“No, I’m afraid not. That would have really topped off my career, don’t you think? No, we didn’t find Atlantis – but we did discover and explore another legendary city which was lost beneath the waves….an ancient city whose very existence challenges everything we thought we knew about human history.”

With that cryptic introduction, he pressed play on his phone and the video was beamed onto the TV screen. What we saw was footage from an underwater camera, seemingly attached to a small submarine.

“It’s a remotely operated underwater vehicle or ROV.” Jack confirmed, “The footage was taken in 1996 and the technology was state of the art at the time.”

The film continued as the sub navigated through dark waters and was clearly far below the surface, with the main source of illumination coming from the lights attached to its frame. The sub continued its descent towards a large number of stone buildings which were inexplicably spread across the seabed.

The site was substantial and I could see a number of smaller, flat-roofed buildings surrounding a trio of large pyramid-type structures. Clearly we were observing a lost city on the ocean floor, long abandoned by human beings and left to sea creatures and deep water predators.

I continued watching the extraordinary footage, awestruck and mesmerised by what I was witnessing. I had never seen a site like this before and couldn’t help but ask the question.
“Where was the footage taken?” I enquired.

“The Mascarene Plateau.” Jack confirmed in a matter-of-fact tone. “Northeast of Madagascar and west of the Seychelles. This location is about 150 metres below sea level.”

My jaw dropped as I continued to watch the submersible’s camera as it approached the largest of the lost city’s pyramids, perhaps fifty to sixty feet tall and built with stairs ascending to their summits.

“I’m no expert in ancient history, but I’ve never heard of a lost city in this region.” I said.

“No, you wouldn’t have done.” Jack replied, “There’s no official written records of this civilisation ever existing. In fact, all of the historical and geological records say this city shouldn’t be there, and yet here it is…”

“What did you learn about this site?” I asked impatiently, “And why was the discovery never made public?”

“Honestly, we don’t know much.” was Jack’s answer, “The archaeologists can’t explain the structures and pyramids. They say the building designs include aspects from several different ancient civilisations – Egyptian, Mayan, Cambodian. It seems that this sunken city predates them all. I could well be tens of thousands of years old, and yet the structures are remarkably well preserved. As for why we didn’t make it public knowledge…well, the reasons will become apparent.”

He pointed back towards the screen as the ROV descended into a small open entrance which led inside the submerged pyramid. I watched intently as the remote-controlled submarine was navigated through a tight corridor inside of the pyramid, its headlights illuminating the path as it dove deeper into the guts of the structure.

What really interested me was the mosaic-like pictures displayed on the corridor walls – images which apparently told the story of this lost civilisation’s disturbing and violent history. I saw depictions of robed priests standing on top of the pyramids, torrential rains falling upon them as the ‘holy’ men used knives and daggers to slaughter chained prisoners, the blood of their victims flowing down towards the water line.

In the next image, I saw sail boats out on the waves and seamen throwing the bodies of slaves or prisoners overboard into the dark waters below. But most chilling was the monstrous predator under the surface which was feasting upon the human bodies.

The huge creature appeared to be a sea serpent with green scales covering its body. And the monster had three heads. The depiction of the beast was chilling, as I saw three pairs of burning red eyes and a trio of mouths filled with razor-sharp teeth.

Jack surely noticed my shock upon seeing these horrific depictions, and he surprised me by launching into biblical verse.

“He maketh the deep to boil like a pot. He maketh the sea like a pot of ointment. Upon earth there is not his like, who is made without fear. He beholds all high things. He is a king over all children of pride. He is Leviathan, and this is his kingdom.”

I gasped, staring at my companion in astonishment. But he didn’t elaborate, instead motioning for me to continue watching. Eventually the submersible exited the lengthy corridor and entered a vast chamber in the very centre of the pyramid.

My blood froze when the camera focussed, and we saw what lay within this chamber of horrors. Inside of the pyramid were the bones of hundreds if not thousands of human beings. The walls were decorated with skulls, their empty eye sockets looking down accusingly at the small seacraft which had invaded their long-forgotten tomb.

I looked away from the screen in disgust and towards Jack, who ended the video before turning to face me.

“There are legends of a lost continent of Lemuria which was supposedly located in what’s now the Indian Ocean.” he explained, “It was written off as a myth, but now we’ve discovered proof of its existence. It seems this nameless city was the capital of the lost civilisation. As you can see, their leaders and priests practiced human sacrifice on a vast scale. But, as horrific as their massacres were, it seems they did serve a purpose.”

I raised both eyebrows in disbelief and shot him a hard glare. Jack lifted his hands defensively before replying.

“Hey, I’m not trying to justify it.” he said, “But the Lemurians were at the mercy of the beast.”

“Leviathan?” I asked in confusion.

“Yeah.” Jack answered in all seriousness, “Our anthropologists have studied the paintings their people left behind. The Lemurians believed it was necessary to offer up sacrifices to the beast from the deep. This is how they kept their civilisation safe. It seems this system worked for a time, but ultimately the beast had his victory and their city was taken by the sea.”

“That’s not possible.” I exclaimed, as finally I reached my limit. “There is no creature like that in the world’s oceans. It’s simply not possible.”

Jack smiled knowingly and nodded his head.

“There was a time I would have believed you. But I’m sure you know that less than 20% of the ocean has been explored, and in truth we have very little idea of what’s down there.”

“Okay, I get it.” was my defensive reply, “But I don’t believe a monster like that could exist. A three-headed serpent? Come on man! Where’s your evidence?”

“Well, it just so happens I have another story to tell you.” said Jack, his blue eyes filled with a fiery intensity. “I will ask you to reserve judgement until you’ve seen and heard all I’ve got.”

I shook my head in disbelief. It seemed I was being led down a rabbit hole and I didn’t like this. But still, Jack had me on his hook and I couldn’t walk away without hearing the full story.

“There was a strange incident which occurred in the early noughties. Actually, it was quite widely reported at the time. The news got out before we had the chance to bury it. But of course, the public didn’t hear the full story.”

“Of course.” I repeated, my cynicism returning as I once again questioned this entire enterprise.

If Jack picked up on my tone he didn’t let is show and instead continued his account.
“In November 2003, a research team tagged a nine-foot, female great white shark off the coast of southwestern Australia. Four months later, records show the shark abruptly dove 2,000 feet with a 32-degree temperature spike. Then the shark disappeared without a trace.
Soon after, the tag washed up on shore – but no signs of the shark. The researchers guessed that a large animal came up under the great white and dragged it to the bottom. Now, the question is this – what animal could have taken and killed a nine-foot shark?”

I shrugged my shoulders dismissively before answering. “A bigger fish?”

Jack laughed in amusement.

“Yeah, good call.” he said, “They reckoned it was a larger great white or possibly an orca. There was no definitive answer but this theory satisfied most in the scientific community. But there was more that wasn’t made public.”

I sighed aloud but didn’t interrupt as Jack went on.

“You see, the nine-footer wasn’t the only tagged sea creature which ended up dead. In total there were four great whites killed in that part of the ocean in the space of a few months – the biggest of which was a 16-foot male. Two fully grown orcas were killed too.
They didn’t recover the trackers in all cases, but the recordings showed these animals all died the same way. In all six cases they were taken by something below and dragged down into the deep.”

My eyes widened as I made the connection in my head, but surely it couldn’t be true – could it? Even if all those animals had died there must be a logical explanation.

“What we did was set up a trap of sorts.” Jack continued, “We obtained the body of a recently deceased twelve-foot great white and secured it to a buoy fifty metres below the surface and right in the middle of the unknown predator’s hunting grounds. What’s more, we attached underwater cameras to monitor the situation and hopefully catch a glimpse of…it.”

I felt my heart beating faster in my chest as I pushed him for more.

“What happened?” I demanded.

Jack smiled as if he enjoyed keeping me on my toes.
“The shark’s corpse was floating in the water for three days. We were about to give it up and cut the body loose. Then this happened.”

Once again, he operated his phone and streamed another clip onto his TV. This video was a short one, barely ten seconds in length. It was that quick.

One moment we were looking through an underwater camera facing downwards – down into the dark abyss. Suddenly, something huge emerged from the depths – propelling itself upwards and towards the camera. I only got a quick glimpse of the beast, but its horrifying features were unmistakable.

The giant predator which emerged from the darkness had three heads with six burning red eyes and a trio of gaping jaws filled with so many rows of sharp teeth.

I literally recoiled in my seat, letting out a startled cry as my frightened brain tried to make sense of what I’d just seen. The video cut out a second later – the screen turning to black in an instant as I guessed the camera was swallowed up in the monster’s jaws.

Even though the monster was only on camera for a brief few seconds Jack was able to show me a still image. The water was dark and the picture blurred, but I could clearly see the predator in all its hideous glory – a nightmare of teeth and rage with three wide maws which looked like entrances to hell itself.

And those eyes, all six of them burning red with rage but also with intelligent malice. I had never seen such a creature before but couldn’t help but acknowledge the stark resemblance to the depictions within the sunken city.

I left Jack’s place soon after, still in a daze and feeling sick to my stomach. I didn’t make arrangements for a further meeting but muttered something about getting in touch as I shuffled towards the door. Jack made it clear that he had more information to share with me, but I think he knew I needed time to process all I’d heard and seen.

I’ll confess that I poured myself a stiff drink when I got home, and it took me some time to calm down. But once I regained my senses, I started thinking logically and the doubts returned. The footage I’d seen in Jack’s apartment was unsettling but certainly not conclusive. The videos of the underwater city and three-headed beast could have been staged or created by CGI. I don’t know why Jack or anyone else would have gone to so much bother to do so, but I couldn’t rule out the possibility.

If Jack was telling me the truth then there must be supporting evidence – logs, data, witness statements etc. Maybe he had access to this information, but for now I couldn’t be certain of anything.

I told myself that this had to be bullshit and I was being taken for a ride by Jack Brady. All of my professional instincts told me to walk away…to cut off contact with Jack and abandon the investigation. But there was something deeper inside which stopped me from doing so.

It wasn’t just the hunch that I was chasing an important story – sure, this was part of it. But what I’d learnt had awakened something within me. Call it a primal fear or evolutionary reflex, but I was beginning to believe that Jack was right and there really was something wicked and terrifying in the ocean depths.

That was when the nightmares began. I didn’t sleep well in the nights which followed our third meeting. But when I did finally drift off, I was plagued by vivid and terrifying visions.
In the first nightmare, I found myself sinking into the abyss – powerless as I descended into the darkness and towards a seemingly bottomless pit.

The light faded as the water filled my lungs. But in my dream I wasn’t drowning and I felt oddly at peace. Don’t get me wrong – it was terrifying to be so helpless…to be surrounded by endless water as I slowly sank into a near infinite abyss. But there was beauty in these depths – a feeling of awe and wonder whilst witnessing the glory of the natural world.

But sadly, the peace I felt in my dreamlike state was not to last. I saw it out of the corner of my eye, turning my head sharply to see the creature hurtling towards me. I tried to scream as the monster rapidly closed the gap. I kicked with all my strength but couldn’t get away.
My blood froze even as the water around me boiled. And then I saw the monster – a thing of nightmares dragged up from the depths of hell. This was Leviathan – the terror of the deep, come to feast upon my flesh and claim my soul. I screamed and kicked for all my worth but it made no difference, as the three hungry mouths fought each other for the privilege of devouring me whole.

I had the normal reaction to the nightmare, waking up screaming and drenched in sweat. That was a bad one, but I guess it had a traceable origin. I’d seen images of the Leviathan during my last meeting with Jack and they’d scared the shit out of me, so it seemed only natural that I’d have nightmares of the beast.

But the terrors I suffered through on the next night were more difficult to explain. Once again, I was plunged into an underwater nightmare – this time finding myself at the very bottom of the ocean. I don’t know how deep I was, but when I looked up I couldn’t see the surface above me. In fact, the only light in this submerged hellscape came from fluorescent sea creatures and flora which were dotted along the seabed.

There was darkness all around me and I was chilled to the bone by freezing water. I didn’t want to be here. This wasn’t a place for mortal men.

I desperately tried to swim up but I couldn’t move from the spot. I started to panic as I looked downwards, my heart thumping hard in my chest when I saw how my feet were encased in concrete, just like the ghoul Jack had encountered in the Bahamas all those years ago.

I fought with all my might to free myself but to no avail. Eventually I exhausted myself, coming to the terrifying conclusion that I was trapped in this watery hell. But there was worse to come.

Suddenly, the water temperature around me rose dramatically – going from freezing to near boiling in a matter of seconds. And a moment later, the dark water around me turned blood red as a dense crimson cloud surrounded me.

I choked as a toxic substance forced its way down my throat and I guessed whatever had polluted the ocean water was pure poison. I prayed I’d wake up, but the nightmare wasn’t done with me yet. My eyes adjusted as the red cloud parted and something emerged from behind it – a creature which shuffled across the ocean floor.

My body tensed as I watched the dark entity marching towards me. I couldn’t move and could not scream. My lungs were filled with sea water but drowning was impossible. This would have been my preferred fate, but something far worse was coming for me.

Its difficult for me to describe the horrific entity which emerged from the red mist. It took the physical form of a man, but I was sure this creature wasn’t human. It walked on the seabed as if it belonged here, oblivious to the currents and intense pressure all around it. I couldn’t see its face. In fact, I’m not sure it even had a face. All I saw was a dark shape gliding towards me – a shadowy form which seemed to have total control over this hostile environment and was entirely focussed upon me – an intruder in its realm.

I couldn’t make out its face but, when the entity came closer, I saw its eyes – burning, orb-like eyes which lit up the darkness, but instead of bringing light to the darkest places, its fire only brought terror to my heart.

I struggled once more against the concrete shoes holding me firmly in place, while my screams were drowned out by the rushing water. And the monstrous entity kept on coming, its horrendous eyes burning through me as the darkness it brought with it consumed everything. That’s when I awoke to the usual routine – screaming and cold sweat.
I couldn’t get back to sleep that night – I didn’t dare. As soon as the sun rose I rang Jack and arranged to meet him that same day. For better or for worse, I needed to hear the conclusion to his tale.

My voice was shaking when I called Jack and I’m sure he picked up on my discomfort over the phone. On this occasion, I invited him to meet in my own home. I normally would never do this with any source. But I justified the decision in my head, telling myself that it would be better to be on my home turf to ensure he didn’t play any tricks when presenting his evidence. But in reality, I felt very unsettled and didn’t feel comfortable leaving my home.
Its crazy when you think about it. I’ve faced some significant challenges and dangerous situations during my career, but the vivid nightmares I’d experienced recently had really shook me.

Jack arrived at my apartment early – just after 9am as I recall. I’d tried to make myself look presentable but couldn’t hide the bags under my eyes and cold sweat on my brow. Jack looked his usual self when he arrived at my front door, with a tough exterior barely hiding the sadness and vulnerability within him.

My visitor gave me a suspicious look when he first saw me but made no comment as I invited him inside. It was only when he was settled and seated in my living room that he asked me a question which was really more of a statement.

“You’ve been having nightmares, haven’t you?” Jack asked.

My jaw dropped as I stared into Jack’s deadpan eyes. I experienced a combination of emotions and a tense moment passed before I was able to speak.

“How the hell did you know that?” I eventually asked.

Jack nodded his head, his eyes dropping as he appeared to look guilt ridden.

“I’m sorry pal.” he replied, “I should’ve warned you this was a possibility. All of the staff in the OSIU have suffered through them. I thought the nightmares wouldn’t affect you because you’re only hearing these accounts second hand. I guess I was wrong.”

I took a deep breath as I collapsed onto my couch and tried to process what I’d just been told. What Jack said didn’t make any sense. How could the stories he’d told me infiltrate my sub-conscience to such a great extent? Surely it must be a coincidence. But even so, it was my job to discover and investigate uncomfortable truths and I knew I had to emotionally distance myself to do this work.

So why was I so angry with Jack for exposing me to this? I did my best to suppress my negative emotions and remain professional and hospitable.

“Can I offer you a cup of coffee?” I asked my guest.

Jack shot me a half grin and a wink before reaching into his jacket pocket and withdrawing a quarter bottle of whiskey.

“I thought we might take something stronger?” he said coyly.

I did my customary raising of my eyebrow before I glanced down at my watch.
“It’s a bit early, isn’t it?” I said in a self-righteous tone.

“Trust me, you’re going to need a stiff drink by the end of this.” Jack answered firmly, “Now, I suggest you fetch us two glasses.”

I reluctantly pulled myself up from the couch and shuffled over to the kitchen. At first, I only took one shot glass from the cupboard, but then I thought again and picked up a second. I set the two glasses down on my coffee table beside Jack’s bottle. By then my hospitality had reached its limit as I demanded answers from my guest.

“What have you got for me, old timer?” I asked firmly.

Jack smiled faintly, perhaps impressed by my ‘straight to business’ attitude.

“Well my friend,” he began, “you’ve done your due diligence, so I’m sure you’re familiar with the Bloop?”

I thought for a moment before remembering where I’d heard this odd name before.

“Yes, I believe so.” I eventually answered, as my exhausted brain retrieved the stored information. “I understand the Bloop was an unidentified underwater sound detected by the NOAA during the late 90s?”

“Correct.” Jack confirmed cooly, “The sound was detected in the South Pacific in 1997 by a system of listening devices used to monitor undersea seismic activity, amongst other things… It can be categorised as an ultra-low frequency and high amplitude. Initially there was a theory made public that the source was a living creature – one which would have a much more powerful call than any known animal in Earth’s oceans.

Officially it remained a mystery, but in 2012 the NOAA stated that the sound was consistent with glacial movements and most likely caused by ice calving.”

I laughed nervously as I believed I knew where this was going.

“Let me guess, the 2012 story was a cover up and there really is a gigantic creature swimming around out there?”

Jack didn’t replicate my laughter as he answered in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Maybe so. I can’t really say for sure. It wasn’t my case and so I didn’t receive a full briefing. Saying that, its quite possible the bloop came from a huge and yet undisclosed sea creature. We’ve discovered a number of animals in the depths which have never been revealed to the public, and its safe to assume there are a lot more down there, waiting to be found.”

He paused for a moment to let this statement sink in. “But I’m not here to talk to you about sea monsters, not this time. I’m afraid I need to tell you about a far greater threat – an ancient, unspeakable evil we unwittingly unleashed upon our world. And it all started with an unidentified underwater sound – one which led us to a very dark place.”

“Sounds ominous…” I said in an attempt to make light of the situation, although my stomach was actually in knots.

Jack sighed deeply as if reluctant to continue, but he eventually did talk.

“Two years ago, our sound surveillance system detected an unidentified signal from the South Atlantic, about 300 miles south of the Falkland Islands. Now, we’ve picked up mysterious sounds before of course, including the bloop. Most turn out to have natural origins – underwater avalanches, whale songs and so forth. But this sound wasn’t like anything we’ve detected before.
The initial recording was scratchy and of poor quality, but one thing was clear – what we heard was a human voice…a female voice to be precise.”

My blood froze and eyes widened as I stared at Jack in astonishment.
“How is that possible?” I exclaimed in dismay.

“We had no idea.” Jack answered truthfully, “But the top brass wanted us to investigate. We sent a listening ship down to the location the signal was first detected and I was a part of the crew. We sailed south from Port Stanley, anchored in the icy Antarctic waters, and switched on our hydrophone array. And then we waited.

I’ll admit that I was sceptical and believed we’d come home empty handed, but we were only on location for a few hours before our sensors picked up the signal, as clear as day.”
With that, Jack withdrew his phone from his jacket pocket with a shaking hand, his finger poised over the screen for a tense moment before he pressed down and played the audio file.

I sat forward and listened intently as the recording began with the familiar sound of rushing water, but after a moment this sound was interrupted by a clear voice which spoke in perfect English.

I don’t know how exactly to describe the voice. It was clearly female but monotone and emotionless, as if reading from a script. There was something chilling and foreboding about the vocalisation. The woman’s voice sounded eerily familiar, yet I couldn’t quite place where I knew it from.

I will provide a transcript of the communication here but will exclude certain details for reasons that will become obvious. And what she said was this…

“This is a message to the beings of the mortal realm. To those who inhabit the lands above us. We have the answers you seek. The mysteries of the land and seas will be revealed.”
What followed was a series of numbers which Jack confirmed were co-ordinates and a specific date and time, details which I will not publicly reveal.

“Come to this place and speak these words – ‘Ex nihilo nihil fit. Sanguis meus tibi’. Come to us, and all will be revealed.”

Jack stopped the recording without delay, his body trembling and face pale.
“I’m going to need that drink now.” he said shakingly.

I complied without question, pouring my companion a large glass of whiskey and getting one for myself too. We shared a stiff drink before Jack composed himself enough to go on.

“The message continued on a loop for about an hour.” he explained, “At which point our microphones malfunctioned and we lost the signal. But that wasn’t the scariest part. In a matter of minutes, the water temperature rose dramatically. I mean, it sent from sub-zero to near boiling, like hell itself was rising to the surface. This should have been impossible and yet I swear it’s the truth…”

He paused for a moment to take another deep gulp of hard liquor.
“As you can imagine, this event caused considerable fear amongst the crew. But thankfully, the water temperature soon dropped and we wasted no time in lifting anchor and leaving the area. Our equipment was fried but we had the audio recording which we brought home to our superiors.”

I nodded my head in fascination. Jack’s story was insane but I was hanging on his every word, and now I really did believe the old sea dog. I had many questions but one in particular came to mind.

“The words in Latin, what did they mean?” I asked shakingly.

Jack delayed for a long and tense moment before answering, although he was unable to meet my eye as he whispered the translation.

“Nothing comes from nothing. My blood for you.”

My heart almost stopped and I took a deep breath before asking my next question.
“What did you do next?”

Jack snorted before taking another drink. “I’ll tell you what we should have done – nothing. I argued strongly that the message should be ignored. We were dealing with powers we didn’t understand and there was a distinct possibility we were being lured into a trap.
The co-ordinates communicated in the message were located right in the middle of the Challenger Deep. You’re familiar with this region?”

“Sure.” I replied after a second’s thought, “The deepest point of the seabed, located in the Mariana Trench, Western Pacific. I believe the Trieste was the first sub to descend to its depths…in 1960? And didn’t James Cameron do a solo descent?”

“Yeah.” Jack replied with a laugh, “The Hollywood bigshot went down in the Deepsea Challenger in 2012. There’s been a number of further descents in the years since, although I doubt anyone will be going down any time soon. Not after the incident…”

“What the hell happened?” I asked through trembling lips.

Jack emptied his glass, pouring himself another before answering.

“Andy Smith was the former OSIU head who recruited me. He was retired by this time. I won’t name his replacement but you can probably uncover his identity with some digging. Suffice to say, the new boss was a real arrogant son-of-a-bitch…and ambitious too.

Like I said, I argued against the expedition and I wasn’t the only one to do so. But in every generation and organisation there’s some asshole who thinks he can take on the gods…Who keeps pushing the boundaries and doesn’t think about the consequences. And of course, this occasion was no different.”

He set down his glass, angry tears forming in his eyes as he held his phone in a shaking hand.

“We had the time, date, location and instructions.” Jack explained, “And we followed them to the letter. The submersible used for the operation was called DSV Voyager. Its design and specifications were closely modelled on the Limiting Factor, which has made several expeditions to the deepest point, but Voyager was specifically modified for this mission and put under the control of the OSIU.

Voyager had a two-man crew – Collins and Rodrigeuz. Both were navy men with decades of experience working and piloting submersibles. These guys were professionals and trained to deal with every conceivable scenario. But nothing could have prepared these men for the hell we sent them into, just like lambs to the slaughter. Those poor bastards…”

He paused, sighing deeply as he looked down at his glass.

“I’m going to play the final communication with the Voyager’s crew on the day of the mission. I must warn you – its not an easy listen.”

I braced myself, not quite knowing what to expect but realising it surely wouldn’t be good. I heard a two-way radio call between the Voyager and their HQ on the surface. It reminded me of a conversation between astronauts and their command and control back on Earth – ‘Houston, we have a problem’. This transmission wasn’t coming from outer space, but the pioneers were in an environment just as alien and dangerous.

Nevertheless, the aquanauts were calm and professional whilst delivering their updates, initially at least.

“Touchdown. Welcome to the bottom of the world gentlemen. Ten thousand, nine hundred and twenty metres below the ocean’s surface.”

“Roger that Voyager.” said a male voice at the other end, “Please provide your status updates.”

“We’ve safely docked on the ocean bed at the precise co-ordinates provided. The pressure hull is intact. The environment is stable. We’re ready when you are commander.”

“Very well.” said the anonymous naval officer.

There was a lengthy pause before the next transmission which I guess was due to discussions taking place on the surface. Finally though, the commander communicated his orders.

“Very good Voyager. You are authorised to proceed. Please broadcast the message.”

“Roger that sir.”

A moment later and we heard those ominous Latin words being blasted through the speakers, the sound muffled by the intense pressure but somehow still audible.
“Ex nihilo nil fit. Sangius meus tibi.”

The voice continued on a loop, repeating over and blaring out into the deepest, darkest ocean on Earth. I shook my head in disbelief, stunned that anyone in a position of authority could order such a reckless mission.

Whilst doing so, I looked Jack in the eye and was met by a hard stare. We continued to listen to the audio recording as all hell broke loose. It started with a low rumbling sound which slowly grew louder and more intense.

“Eh command… We’re getting some significant seismic activity down here.” said the pilot, his previously calm voice now beginning to crack.

“Please repeat Voyager.” came the confused reply from the surface.

A second panicked voice called out from the submersible.

“Oh my God! The seabed is opening up!”

“Stay calm Voyager. Enact the emergency protocols.”

“The external temperature is rising rapidly.” said the pilot, “The water is turning red. Sweet Jesus, what the hell is happening?”

“Voyager. Tell me what you see. Do you copy?”

“They’re all around us! They’re coming for us!”

“What’s all around you Voyager? What is happening down there?”

“They’re not human. They look like men but they’re not. These beasts…these demons. They come from the shadows. Their eyes…oh god, those damn eyes. They see everything!”

“God damn it Collins. Pull yourself together!”

“Its too late. They’re inside us. We can’t fight it any longer. Rodriguez…he’s gone. The air’s running out. The pressure is building! On my God!”

There followed several seconds of maniac, blood-curdling screams…and then silence. Nothing but static from the submarine as the commander pointlessly screamed down the line.

“Voyager. Do you copy? Voyager. Answer me, damn you!”

At this point Jack abruptly ended the audio recording, leaving me in stunned silence. There was so much for my terrified brain to process in that moment, but one thing in particular came to mind – the shadowy humanoid entities with burning eyes.

The aquanauts had apparently been attacked by these creatures at the bottom of the ocean, but I was already familiar with these demons, because they’d haunted my dreams only the night before.

It was some time before I was able to speak again and ask my next question.
“What happened down there Jack?”

My companion could only shrug his shoulders before answering honestly.

“We don’t know for sure. The most plausible explanation is a hull breach and implosion due to the immense pressure. The crew members may have hallucinated as a result of oxygen deprivation. There wouldn’t be much left after such an incident. Still, we sent an unmanned submersible down to the site to search for any signs. But we found nothing. No debris. No human remains. No evidence that the Voyager had ever been there.

And according to the official record, it never was. The Voyager wasn’t on the books, Collins and Rodriguez were supposedly killed in a training accident, and the whole ugly incident was covered up.”

I nodded my head, as suddenly I was back in familiar territory.

“An undisclosed mission gone wrong. Good men killed due to the negligence of the higher ups, and a cover-up by those in charge. That’s quite the scoop, even without mentioning the more…unusual aspects.” I muttered.

“Indeed.” Jack replied solemnly, “But sadly, that’s not the end of the story.”

I felt my stomach drop as those words sunk in.

“The message. The creatures that emerged from the depths. They’re not going to stop, are they?”

“No, they’re not.” Jack confirmed with shame in his voice, “We unleashed something that day. An ancient evil which was trapped in the ocean depths for thousands of years. And now, thanks to our reckless actions, this evil is free.”

He sighed and lowered his voice to a whisper before elaborating. “I resigned my position shortly after the Challenger Deep fiasco. It was either that or end up murdering my commanding officer. Still, I have friends in the OSIU, and I hear what’s going on.
The activity over the last year or so has been off the charts. Disappearances at sea, unidentified creatures emerging from the depths, disembodied voices heard on the coasts, and shadow people sighted on oil rigs and isolated islands.

There’s been so many incidents that the unit can no longer cope. Something very frightening is happening in our oceans and its only going to get worse.”

The rest of our conversation on that morning is something of a blur in my memory. I remember we shared at least one more drink before Jack left my home. I do recall his parting words as I saw him to the door, his eyes bloodshot and half crazed.

“Beware of the nightmares my friend,” he warned, “The demons don’t just haunt the seas. They can get inside your head, if you let them.”

And with that, he was gone.

That night was even worse than the previous as even the alcohol didn’t help me get a good night’s sleep. The nightmares weren’t as vivid as they had been, but instead I was assaulted by a series of horrific images – men drowning at sea, sirens drawing children to watery graves, and hideous monsters beyond description which ascended from the icy depths.

And all the time I saw those hideous shadowy demons. Every time I closed my eyes, I was assaulted by the burning orbs they had in place of eyes. It seemed like they were staring into my very soul, that they knew every one of my darkest secrets and desires and would exploit every possible weakness to destroy me. I genuinely fear that I’ll never be able to rest again, not after all the horrors I’d seen and heard.

I rang Jack at 5am the next morning and found he was already up. He sounded strange over the phone, but we arranged to meet at the marina shortly after sunrise. Jack told me this would be our last meeting and he would provide all the evidence I needed to publish my story.

I hoped he wasn’t serious about this being the final time we’d meet. This story has affected me like none other, infecting my sub-conscious and taking over my entire life. There was no-one else I could talk to about this. Jack Brady was the only other person who understood.
I arrived at the marina shortly after dawn, sitting on the bench for almost an hour while I waited for my companion. I looked out to sea and saw a storm forming on the far horizon, with black clouds and powerful waves clearly visible. I thought little about this at the time however.

Jack was running late which wasn’t like him. I tried ringing his number but it went straight to voicemail. That’s when I started to worry.

I remembered from our previous meeting that Jack’s prized yacht – the Nautilus – was docked in the marina, and I wondered whether he was working on the boat. I made my way along the jetty, keeping a weary eye on the water and the stormfront which was rapidly moving in my direction.

To my surprise, the Nautilus wasn’t in its mooring. I scanned the marina and saw Jack’s boat afloat and gliding towards the harbour entrance with its sails down and motor running. And Jack was at its helm – steering the boat and heading out to sea.

Panic overcame me as I ran down the jetty and shouted out his name. I remembered what he’d told me on our second meeting – that he hadn’t been to sea since his retirement and never intended to go out again. He might have changed his mind of course, but something felt very wrong.

Jack was sailing directly out towards the incoming storm and he didn’t respond to my increasingly desperate calls. Instead Jack looked directly out to sea, a steadfast determination on his face whilst his eyes were extremely focussed, as if he was bewitched or stuck in a trance.

I ran to the very edge of the jetty as the storm closed in and I was assaulted by heavy winds and rain. I continued to scream until my lungs could do no more. Jack didn’t turn back, and his boat sailed straight into the violent storm.

I contacted the coast guard right away and they began a search as soon as was possible. The storm was intense and violent but short-lived. The Nautilus was found later that day, capsized and barely afloat. Jack Brady wasn’t onboard and was nowhere in the vicinity. The search continued for three days, but no trace was found and eventually it was called off.
The authorities concluded that Jack was lost at sea and drowned. No-one could explain why an experienced seaman had set out during a severe storm without taking any of the standard precautions. Many thought he’d taken his own life, but I knew better. Surely whatever evil had been set free had finally overcome Jack Brady, forcing him to make the fatal sea journey which claimed his life.

Jack was gone but he’d left me a parting gift. Due to the chaos of that day it would be several hours before I checked my emails on my phone. When I did so, I discovered a message from Jack’s account – an email with no subject line and only containing a hyperlink.

In normal circumstances I would have deleted the email as spam, but instead I clicked on the link which led to a drop box. Saved inside the folder was a literal treasure trove of evidence and data – all of the video and audio recordings Jack had played for me during our meetings and much more. This included logs, witness statements, intelligence reports, and countless other photographs and documents which surely proved beyond reasonable doubt that Jack’s accounts were true.

If I had the time I would still do my due diligence, investigating and studying every document and confirming their veracity whilst following up on leads and seeking out further witnesses. But alas, I fear my time is limited, and so I’m reduced to writing this quickfire article. Because you see, whatever evil took over Jack is now firmly entrenched in my head.
Its not just my dreams which are plagued by nightmarish images. During the daylight hours I find myself drawn to the ocean. I spend hours at the water’s edge and staring out to sea – an overwhelming urge rising from inside me as I’m pulled towards the cold and unforgiving abyss.

I’m fighting with all my strength but fear its only a matter of time before the demonic forces now controlling our oceans take my body and soul. And so I’m reaching out in a last desperate act. Its clear that our government is incapable of stopping the evil they unwittingly unleashed, and it seems their only priority is to cover up their own complicity in these events.

But, even if I am doomed, I still have hope for humanity. I’m sharing Jack’s story in the belief that somebody reading can prevent this evil from destroying us. The clues are surely out there – the ancient knowledge or white magic which kept these aquatic demons at bay for so many generations. There must be a way.

This can’t be the end. Please God, save us now – before it’s too late.

Credit: Woundlicker

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