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In 1960, a journal belonging to a Mr. Christian Devaul was discovered in a glass container on a small island, just south of Guam. It was discovered by a team of researchers working for the U.S Department of Defense, who at the time were scavenging for a new island to test their latest atomic weapon. I was one of five people who were allowed to read its contents, and who were sworn to secrecy. However, as the years have crept forward and my tumors show no sign of slowing. I have lost the fear that had once held my tongue so tight. For the secrets found within this journal are of grave world importance, and are of horrifying revelation.

June 13th, 1901[]

My name is Christian Devaul, leading Marine Biologist at the esteemed Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution. I will be joined by Mr. Johnathan Cress, who shall be piloting our vessel and Mr. Benjamin Lern, famous ocean cartographer and navigator. Our vessel, aptly named “The Deep Whale”, is quite possibly the first and only vessel of its time able to reach depths exceeding 10,000 feet, as well as being self sustainable for a period of three weeks. To say that we are excited would be an understatement, though we have been sworn to secrecy for the time being. While I find that this is fair, I find it torturous to gaze into the eyes of my sweet Abigail and not tell her the truth of my coming adventure.

Alas, my mouth has stayed shut on the matter. From what I have been told from higher-ups, we will be exploring a recently discovered region of the Pacific Ocean known as the Marianas Trench. There have been several attempts to map out the depth of this area using sound, but we shall be first to do it by exploration. My heart races with excitement and fear just thinking of it. I shall get some sleep, as to be as focused and prepared as I can be for our initial descent tomorrow morning.

June 14th, 1901[]

Oh my sweet Abigail, how I wish you could’ve seen the beauty that I have gazed upon today. The vibrant and bright colors of the fish swimming in the bright blue water reminded me greatly of you’re wonderous red hair and blue eyes, but I digress. The initial descent, which was poised to be very seamless ended up being rather cumbersome, due to the agitation of a very hungover Benjamin Lern. Though, once we reached around 300 feet, his mood quickly shifted to that of awe. All around us, thousands of fish, some which I have yet to see in any publication, swam and played as our vessel sunk deeper and deeper. Part of me wished that we could’ve stayed at that depth for longer, so that these creatures could be properly documented. However, I know that time is a scarce and precious commodity on this ship and that sticking to our schedule of the utmost importance.

As I write this, we are currently around 500 feet below the surface. Tomorrow our goal is to reach that of 1000 feet. After this, we shall descend at roughly 1000 feet per day to reach our goal of roughly 10,000, at which time we shall do our experiment.

June 15th, 1901[]

My dear Abigail, last night (or what I presumed to be night) we heard a strange sound coming from the black abyss below us. It sounded low in pitch, yet at the same time it sounded that of a crying woman. To say that we were disturbed by this noise would be an understatement, as Lern has been quiet ever since. But we shall not let a measly noise deter us from our task at hand. I reminded the crew of the large sum of money and international recognition that would come from our voyage, and this seemed to have elicited some extra morale from Cress. As we descended further, the once comforting blue of the ocean has been replaced by an impenetrable darkness. A darkness our light could barely shine through. Around 1500 feet down, our vessel began to make several creaking sounds.

I assured the crew that this was merely a product of the ship’s hull regulating to the rising pressure, but this did not seem to provide comfort in Lern, who had begun to show signs of regret for partaking in the voyage. Due to this, Cress and I had come to the conclusion that 1,000 feet per day was too slow and that if we kept this pace, poor Lern would go mad. Instead, we intend to shorten our trip by descending 2,000 feet a day instead. This added haste has seemed to liven Lern’s spirits a bit, as he’s spent less time at his bunk and has joined us for dinner and cards. Knowing that I shall see you sooner has livened my spirits as well, my sweet. For two days without you seems that of an eternity.

June 16th, 1901[]

My lovely Abigail, how dreadful of a sleep I have gotten. Once again, we were awoken by that damned sound, only this time it seemed to be closer and more dynamic in its range of pitch. It’s perplexity is both astonishing, and beyond comprehensible horror. How a creature could make a sound so dreadful has my mind racing for answers, each of which give me increasingly horrifying images. The creaking in the hull has also begun to come more frequently, causing Lern to become increasingly agitated. Around 4,000 feet he started yelling at Cress and I, saying that we should turn back while our ship is still intact. I tried to assure him that this vessel had been tested thoroughly as to make sure it would be safe for long term travel, but he didn’t heed any of what I said. Instead opting to say that we’re going beyond the realms of sanity.

In order to calm his nerves, Cress brought out a bottle of bootleg whiskey he had snuck aboard the ship, and it seemed to have done the trick, for Lern is now fast asleep, and our voyage is once again peaceful. While I find the mere idea of drinking while on such a groundbreaking expedition to be morally reprehensible. I may ask to take a swig before bed, as to allow myself to get a full night's rest.

June 17th, 1901[]

Something has changed, my sweet Abigail. I cannot put my finger on what, or how, but something sinister has taken hold of this voyage. Last night, while it may have been tempting, I refused to drink. Instead I told Cress that I would stay up and monitor the descent, so that he could have a full night's rest. Oh how I wish I took that drink now. Roughly an hour after Cress had fallen asleep, I heard that damned sound again. Unlike the previous times, where I had not been in the proper mental state to report what I’ve heard, this time I was able to jot down exactly what I heard. At this point, the noise was so loud that I could tell that it came from several hundred feet in front of us, and around 2,000 feet below. Unlike the previous times, where the sound was very dynamic in pitch range, this noise sounded only high pitched. As much as I hate to write this, it sounded very similar to you my love. In temperance, in tone, in pitch, even matching the human rhythm of speech. I have yet to decide what to do with this information. As the lead researcher of the crew, it is up to me to keep my crew informed on any potential dangers at hand.

However, the selfish and adventurous side of me wants to keep going, at the very least to finish the sound mapping of the Trench floor, and ideally, to figure out what has been making these noises. I can hear Lern rustling, so I shall stop writing so he doesn’t learn of my horrible discovery.

June 17th, 1901[]

My love, I do not wish to scare you, but I have started to fear for my safety. Several hours after Lern had woken up, our rather uninteresting conversation about food rationing was interrupted by the screams of Cress. We ran over to his bunk and watched in horror as he seized violently. Remembering our brief, yet effective training in First Aid. We were able to get him through his seizure alive. When he came too, he rarely spoke, and Lern and I chalked this up to potential brain damage from the seizure. However, when we both agreed that it would be best to abandon the voyage and ascend to the surface, Cress lashed out in a fit of rage. He screamed about how it was imperative that we continue the voyage at hand. When pressed as to why our expedition outweighed that of his mental well-being, his response will forever be engraved in my memory.

“Because the call beckons us.”

Luckily for us, we are at 8,000 feet now, so we only have one more day’s worth of travel to go. It’s times like these that I miss you the most Abigail.

June 18th, 1901[]

I awoke to find that I had a strange message in my journal. It read the following. “Destiny cannot be undone, answer the call that beckons you”. This message makes me fear even further for my well-being. Not because of its contents, though those words make me shudder on their own. But because the handwriting in which they are written do not match my own. When I discovered this, I promptly asked my crew if any of them had written in my journal, to which the obvious answer was no. How can I possibly trust these men if they are willing to breach my trust and privacy by writing in this letter?

June 18th, 1901[]

Oh my God; to say that a disaster is in the midst, would be to downplay the situation at hand. For the last three or so hours, Cress has been laughing and mumbling incoherently. As a safety precaution for Lern and I, as well as the wellbeing of Cress, we decided it would be best to tie him down to his bunk. During this struggle, Cress took his pen and stabbed it straight into Lern’s chest, causing Lern to fall over, writhing in pain. Luckily for me, we were just about finished with tying him down, so I was able to finish the job on my own. Once finished, I quickly tended to Lern’s wounds and was able to successfully stop the bleeding. Though without proper medical professionals and equipment, I am not sure how long he can last. Due to this and the recent violent tendencies exhibited by Cress, we had decided to abandon the experiment and ascend back to the surface.

However, it was to both of our horror that our controls have become unresponsive. Whether that is due to engineers miscalculating the pressures of the ocean, or some outside interference, it does not matter. For in either case, we are still trapped in this vessel, traveling further and further from salvation.

June 18th, 1901[]

At around 9,500 feet, we heard that blasphemous sound once more. Though this time, it appeared as if it was coming from mere feet below us. The velocity at the sound travelled as enough to shake our ship, causing a weakened Lern to fall out of his bunk, rendering him unconscious. I am starting to greatly fear for Lern’s health, as around 9,000 feet down it had taken a major turn for the worst, and I fear he may never regain consciousness. It seems like eons since I’ve been able to feel anything except dread and hopelessness. My only hope at this point is that whatever problem has led to the loss in control will somehow come back to life. Though I fear that only by divine intervention this may occur.

June 19th, 1901[]

Time: Unknown

Name: Benjamin Lern

Cause of Death: Stab wound

Rest in peace, my friend.

I hear the noise again, and it appears to be right below us. I’ve decided to go down to the small half dome viewing area to see what has been making the noise. As I descend the ladder, I could hear Cress’s shrieks of laughter.

June 19th, 1901[]

I Have Seen It.

The source of the call.


The source of my misery.


I peered into its mile long eye.


An eye that has seen the rise and fall of many empires, past, present, and future.


It’s filling my mind with its knowledge.


It told me what I must do.


I went upstairs to forever silence the shrieking maniac, but when I reached the main deck, he had already succumbed to death’s will. After I finish writing this, I will put my journal in a glass container, as to not damage this journal's contents. May God, whatever it may be, take pity on me for what I am about to do. To my sweet love, I am sorry. I wish it could’ve ended differently, but I am afraid I have no choice. Humanity must never come to this place again. It is not too late to stop the madness of our curiosity. For some things are better left to secrecy.

June 19th, 1901[]

Time: Unknown

Name: Johnathan Cress

Cause of Death: Unknown

I am so sorry John, may God pity us both.

June 19th, 1901[]

Time: Unknown

Name: Christian Devaul

Cause of Death: Internal Breach in Hull

Abigail, please do not be sad. For at least in death, I will never hear its call again.



Written by Mr.HeavyRadio
Content is available under CC BY-SA

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