Cetus

To this I tell you my story. I have no home but the boat and the sea. I spent the majority of my life out at sea, on the ship. We sailed to parts unknown back and forth, carrying goods and trade.

That was my life and it came to an abrupt end one particular night at sea. We were sailing from the coast of America to Portugal, having only left Charleston a few days ago. It was a stormy twilight, the moon shining through dark clouds pouring rain down on the ship. The waves were rough, tossing the ship left to right. I was attempting to tie down the cargo above deck more sufficiently and it was then that a rough wave hit the ship and caused me to slip. My fellow crewmen saw me slip out off the ship and cursed, calling out that a man had gone overboard. The waves were too rough to turn back for me, and though they tried, though I cursed, though I screamed for them, I was merely drowned under rising waves. My last thought, last sight, as I fell deeper in the water, looking at our ship floating away, my ship, floating away... my last thought as the waters rose and the light from the surface got darker and darker, that I lost breath and simply fell unconscious, knowing I would not awake.

I awoke however, coughing out water and mud on a rock. I looked to my sides, arising, and I was shin-deep in a thick brown muddy liquid. I attempted to remove myself from the liquid, trudging, clothes soaked and heavy, onto dry ground. I looked at my surroundings and it appeared as though I was on the coast of a large, rocky, mountainous island. Wooden planks and torn masts were washed up on shore, as well as a large wooden hull of a ship. It appeared to be a large caravel of some classification, 17th century, most likely. Old, tattered and torn tarps lay across the ship and ground. Upon entering the ship, I found it abandoned aside from books and decorations in the cabin. A small journal or log dictated that the ship had wrecked ashore on a deserted swamp-island (I can only presume this one) and that the crew set out for inland, within the swamp. I decided I should get to alpine ground I was to look for civilization. They were most likely no longer alive, but perhaps there would be remnants of a camp. Things I could use. I began looking for a way up the mountains. The rocks were large and trembling, but I began to make my way onto solid ground. As I climbed the grassy, mossy dried dirt and rock mountain, I looked down the horizon. It could only be hours until sunrise, the sky a dark purple, clear sky. I looked at the swampy mires beneath me, and the jungles were thick. I could see nothing but a small clearing in the jungle, leading to a large lake in the center of the island flowing into the ocean. I began to make my way down into the swamp-jungle to head for the lake. As I began to descend, I thought to call out for anyone. Is anyone there? I screamed for somebody, somebody to help, and there was the echo, and silence. As I continued my descent, the earth began to tremble. An earthquake, most likely. Rocks would be falling down the unstable mountain any moment as the earth shook, and I lost my footing.

I fell, sliding and flipping over the ground down the mountain, every time I flipped, hitting my head and back. when I finally stopped, I was at the edge of the mountain and jungle. My back ached with pain and face was hurting, my nose most likely broke. I began to move into the jungle, stepping through vines and hearing the chirping of crickets and buzzing of mosquitos. every step I made crunched on the twigs and sticks on the ground. As I stepped for what seemed like an hour, the sticks and trees began to thin out and I saw the grassy ferned clearing. I ran towards it, looking for signs of camps, civilizations, anything. But it was clear. Abandoned. I moved towards the lake, where the grass stopped growning and a rock formation encircled the entire lake. Stone spires surrounded the circumference of the round lake, and in the center was black, thick, swampy water. Something in my gut told me I was in the wrong location. As if something was certainly...wrong.

My suspicions and premonitions were confirmed when the ground shook a second time, this time the swampwater began to bubble. This time the trembling was so great I fell flat to the ground. The rumbling shook my body, bouncing it violently. As I tried to regain focus I was only hit against the rock ground harder. When the quake finally ceased, I reclaimed my focus and began to look towards the lake. Nothing seemed to be amiss, but the water splashed across the rock formation. Something had fallen into, or emerged out of the water. I glanced around to identify what this was, failing to spot anything out of the ordinary. Then, off in the distance, I heard crumbling. I turned to direct my focus towards the sound and thus is when I saw it. The visage of something, a monster, a colossal abomination towering higher than the Washington Monument. Its back turned, tentacle-like arms swung against the mountain, still dripping blackwater onto the ground, its squamous body slowly turning from the mountain to face towards me. As it turned, I saw its underside body, lacerated from the rocks, bleeding green thick liquid. Its rugose head angled to confront mine. Its eyes, black all but the center iris, a deep crimson-vermilion faced and stared back at me. I stood, amazed and horrified, as its gigantic, hideous head turned and bowed towards mine, proceeding ever closer, its eyes of fire now staring back, capable of driving the strongest minds insane.

It was that particular moment I lost my mind. I had stared into the depths of monstrousities unimaginable. Thunder crackled in the sky and I fell to the ground. What happened from then remains a blur. I remember little, only waking up on board an incoming vessel. I had not ever seen such indescribable horror in my lifetime, only able to ponder where it went. The crew who had rescued me had adventured into the island, recalling the lake I had remembered but did not mention to them, lest they deem me mad.

I know that should I ever mention these horrors to the public ear I would be deemed insane and locked away like a lunatic. I know that one day the creature will rise again, this time it will make itself apparent to humanity. It knows me. It would recognize me. I know it comes for me. I know it has followed me, its only living witness.