The Shark that Walked

[Clock]

This is an olde story. I wrote it awhile back, and decided to polish it up and make it presentable. A quicky TF with no real plot, but more of a snapshot. Critique for what's there is appreciated! All that aside, on with the show!


Entry 1
The boat pitched and yawed within each wave’s passing, frightful as it was--there was a steady rhythm. Up--down, up-down. On deck, rain belted all of us, churning the wooden deck into a swirl of salt and fresh water. Along with it dribbled the red essence of my lipid sailors, death freezing each one’s features. Energy crackled around me as brilliant arcs of electricity pierced charred clouds. Mixed colors of black, purple and white thrashed about in the sky, as if raging painter struck his canvas in spite. On our boat, nothing signified order. Beasts of the aquatic nature had pulled their wretched selves from the depths of that ungodly pit and waged war upon our people, my people. We only were armed with spears. Built with a mouth full of teeth and hands equally arrayed, they stood as tall as man and did nothing but grimace. Their eyes were sunken inside their petrified skulls, having a sort of sheen of emerald skin, smooth but rough. They stand on legs such as ours. They possessed a tail shaped that of a shark’s, a snake that drifts side to side. Mounted on their back stands the bastion of which that is worldly recognized, a slender, sleek dorsal fin, serrated as much as their teeth. I stare at one right now as it bleeds to death. Listlessly do I write this, beneath torrent of rain, and the steady rocking of the ocean.

Entry 2
Between sobs do I continue to write, knowing full well what fate may await me. Though the crew managed to take a dozen of those damned creatures with them, I sit in a room, bolted shut, as the coward I am. I’m ever fearful that more of them will pour onto our empty decks, haunted by the specters of my fallen friends. Their last cries still echo within my head, a sound shriller than any scream. The entire world is turned upside down; fish don’t hunt us, we attack them! Do birds swim now? Can I breathe water? Is fire cold, is water hot?
I’m not sure if the day has risen, or if the rain let up, or for that matter if anybody’s alive. All I know is I’m wasting away in this place, while one of these creatures lies on it’s back, impaled through the heart with a spear. The room is a stark blanket of darkness, but the source of light, of all things, resides in its eye, emitting a faint glow. Almost like the kiss of a dying ember. It beckons for me to lie next to it, to lie there, tell it that all is ok, that I did not kill it, no, did I kill it? No. no…


Entry 3
I think half a day has passed and gone. Outside the door, I hear the sound of people, murmuring through the rusted iron that all is ok, their voices distant, yet soundly clear. When I press my ear against the wall, all I hear is the rough scoffing that is unmistakably the creature’s feet, occasionally a harsh grunt. I will always pull away from it, huddled in a corner, with only this paper and pen to comfort. My clothes reek of fish and blood of both races. A steady rowing motion as the ocean caresses the boat’s form gently nodded me port and starboard. Even the air hangs heavy, burdened with the new scents. I hope that concentrating on these particulars will help me regain control and calm down. It’s a shallow hope, but a hope nonetheless. One thing restricts me from doing so, however. Over on the opposite side, where darkness reigns, the creature still eyes me, begging to remove the spear, the pole that restrains it. I think, perhaps, it may be still alive. Maybe? When I look at it, I see a tiny child, its face scrunched up in agony, crying to me to let it out. It promises me great things if I do this simple deed, it will make things better…it promises me. That’s a lie, of course. But maybe if I follow along with it, I can think clearer. It’ll certainly stop bothering me. And if course…it couldn’t hurt, could it?
After much debating, I did decide to do it. When I clutched the pole, relief seemed to drain back into its composure, heartened by my grip. What was I to do! In shock, I could only watch as, gaining inch by inch its head pulled up, and cracked its sallow lips into a grin. Drawing backwards, as soon as I was back where I was, it’s posture went limp and sunk back to the floor. No matter where I crawled, the eye did follow. I cried and closed my eyes, hoping for peace to wash over. Even through my eyelids did the light pierce through, growing brighter and brighter. It cries to me! Calls to me! It tells me to release it! Begs me! What do I do? What will it do to me? Why can’t I hear the men cheering out there in victory, that they drove them back? Why won’t the creatures pull themselves back into the sea?
Why?


Entry 4
Today I pulled the spear out of the creature, regardless of what I felt. Doing so, its corpse was now able to tumble freely with each drop and swell. Without warning or reason it grabbed a bolted-down piece of furniture and grappled me with its other hand. A fleeting moment and it would be over, I told myself. But the moment didn’t come. Instead, I received its two eyes in a corrupt stare I will not forget it. I, in turn, trembled and feebly protested, yanking at my shackles. Of course this did nothing. The creature drew a haggard breath, one that was tainted with the soon departing, and pinned me against the ground. Each breath was one of a gasp for air, shorter and quicker then the last. In turn I felt its vice grip slacken, the strength within it waning. With a frenzied gaze, eyes piercing me as did the very spear, it stared at me intently, eyes shining with a sort of ethereal light. Within these bottomless orbs of fire I saw the other side. They beckoned that I traveled with it, travel with it to the lowest levels of the ocean, it’d show me great things, it would. I barely felt it grapple me desperately by the collar as it told me of these wonderful things, things beneath the surface that only it had the pleasure. As its breathing slowed, it promised me that I would see them. It had just enough time left alive in it’s now pallid face to pull it into a grin; a weary one. Finally, the grip around my collar was released, its body tumbling back to the floor with the next wave. Now, I sit where I once was before, the creature dead from blood loss. The faint glimmer in its eyes now gone, part of me mourns the death. But I am still where I was before. Stuck, inside this closet, my body dying from within. But with the last breath, and the grin still wide on its face, indeed it reassured me that I would see good things.

Entry 5
Words fail me. I cannot begin to express what I’m feeling right now. Nothing. I stare at the hand that writes these words and continue to reflect what happened. No hand left to stare at now, per say, only a talon-adorned appendage, the one that I and my comrades once had fought against. Desperation knew no bounds when I first was hit by the transformation. I screamed and screamed as my body deformed, the changes advancing without care of how I felt, or how loud I screamed. The very same pelt of that blue-green hue now belonged to me, my head having bulged out with an intense pressure. Teeth, once dulled and more of a flat-head, now are arrayed in spikes. That damned tail! I can recall distinctly how that damned tail split through my backside and slid out, fins and all, destroying whatever’s left of my garments. I now stared through eyes of a fish. A fish! No longer can I walk among man; nix; I’m bound to the sea as a prisoner in shackles. These webbed hands are not mine! If I have to I’ll kill myself! No, no, that won’t do. I must remain calm. I need to think, and this paper will imbue me the strength to do that. What can I do? All options are gone, yes, gone. All options human that is. Unless. There is a slim, slim possibility, where once before there was none, that I might have a chance outside. Maybe I can survive. Maybe. I stare at the door now, the handle tantalizing, urging me to step outside. My eyes idle to the floor, what I see now lying before me pushes me to the brink. On the ground lies my form, staring at me with human eyes. It tells me that I am not welcome. Tells me that I need to go. It tells me that I’m no longer me. Not the human anymore. No…this can’t be true. It can’t be true! Tell me, that it is not true, that this is only a dream?! No! Please, somebody! Hear me!!

These entries were found on the corpses of a ghostship (an abandoned fishing boat to be specific) drifting out at sea, brutally disemboweled. The killer is unknown, and thus at large. Little is known about his motives, except on the sheltered roof was an etched message, carved carefully and the last sentence inked with blood.

Little did they know that I did indeed follow them. I watched them leave me in cold blood, in haste that they did not want to be changed. In haste, that they did not want to see what I see now. The gift, it’s a glorious gift. I can see everything clearly now, the deep water no longer a mystery, oh, such a glorious gift. I want them to see what I see now, the whole world too, that they might join me and the others. One day, it will come to pass. One day, the entire world will see blue again.