Shark week on Drabblecast has never been so unnerving! Enjoy an original Drabblecast story this week from Evie Mae Barber about what lurks even deeper in the depths…
The great white looked like he was having a good time, swimming upside down, bone-white belly above water, teeth gnashing playfully. Like a puppy dreams of finally catching a squirrel.
Just off the verdant coast, boaters came to see him play. Some reached out as he swam by, trying to stroke his luminous stomach, but he was out of reach.
-get them out-
I warned them to be careful. Something wasn’t quite right; the shark was clearly distressed. Nothing too strange—I’d seen this before—but I had to come out with my crew just to see if it might be research-worthy. Even a byline on a derelict local news site would be nice at this point. Hell, a quote would do fine.
i cant get them out-
Another boat rolled up. One of the boaters said it was tonic immobility—playing dead. “Might think we’re predators. We may want to back off…”
IN MY BRAIN IN MY BODY
Evie Mae Barber
The great white looked like he was having a good time, swimming upside down, bonewhite belly above water, teeth gnashing playfully. Like a puppy dreams of finally catching a squirrel.
Just off the verdant coast, boaters came to see him play. Some reached out as he swam by, trying to stroke his luminous stomach, but he was out of reach.
-get them out-
I warned them to be careful. Something wasn’t quite right; the shark was clearly distressed. Nothing too strange—I’d seen this before—but I had to come out with my crew just to see if it might be research-worthy. Even a byline on a derelict local news site would be nice at this point. Hell, a quote would do fine.
-i cant get them out-
Another boat rolled up. One of the boaters said it was tonic immobility—playing dead. “Might think we’re predators. We may want to back off.”
“Might be some kind of cardiac thing,” another boater offered.
None of these suggestions seemed quite right to me. And thank God. There was no research left to be done on such mundane topics.
“Let’s try to help him,” someone else said.
-they are inside they are inside-
We piloted our modest boat over to the shark. It swam the backstrokes through the water in lulling curved lines. Even as a biologist, knowing full well something was wrong, a part of me wanted to join the gentle beast. The water would be cold but my wetsuit would help. I could swim in opposing symmetrical patterns.
-in my brain in my body-
I hit the lever, lowering the fishing net. We needed a closer look. The electric pulley system would be too slow to catch him. It’d have to be done by hand.
We waited for him to swim over the net but his movement, while slow, was unpredictable. A toddler’s looping scribbles.
-i cant i cant i cant-
He swam closer to the net, drifting left then right, then—
“Pull!” I shouted to my shipmates. We reeled in as hard as we could, snatching the beast, a young one I could tell now that we had him close.
He didn’t thrash, just remained calm, belly up on the net.
-Less of fin bite your tooth of long through my sk—
“Bring him in,” I said quietly, not wanting to disturb him. “Easy, easy.”
We laid him down on the deck. A stench of rotten death permeated the brisk ocean air.
Nothing looked amiss. We had to turn him over.
But I hesitated.
I touched his belly, rubbery and wet, but felt nothing. I took a breath and regretted it for the smell. An irrational fear swelled up in me, twisting my guts.
“T—turn him over,” I said to my crew. They did so, oblivious to my fear, flipping him onto one side at first.
“What in the name of God is that?” one of them asked.
Something protruded from its skull. Something white and porous.
“All the way,” I said. My excitement began to outweigh my fear. All manner of parasites and other strange creatures lay hidden beneath our oceans. This one was new and I saw my full name printed beneath a thousand possible article titles.
With a wet thud, the crew turned him the rest of the way.
“My God,” I whispered.
A long thick tentacle had burst through the shark’s brain. What I had thought were black holes covering the tentacle’s surface were actually spots, slightly inset. The trypophobic circles made my skin shiver and my breath catch. I reeled back, away from the still-living shark.
“What in the hell is it?” my shipmate asked.
Slowly I stepped back toward it. “I don’t know,” I said and kneeled back down, controlling my breath. I looked at the tentacle, staring at one of the black indents. My shipmates, the boat, the shark, even the ocean faded away for just a moment.
I ran a finger along the tentacle, feeling its black concavities.
“What are you?” I don’t know if I asked it aloud.
One of the larger indents moved with a squishy sucking sound. It turned, like a sphere, and I found myself staring into an eye. A great white’s, where it shouldn’t be. Not black and lifeless like Captain Quint would tell you. But complex, blue, alive, and focused.
Focused on me.
The wet squishing sound amplified. Every concavity began revolving. Soon a hundred little shark eyes were staring at me.
People were shouting all around, their voices indistinct. I heard only one. Something boring into my skull.
-take them less of fin take them end this-
I had to say something back. I had to. I opened my mouth. Hands were grabbing me, pulling me from behind by both arms, but I fought them off.
The tentacle lurched, sprang up like a striking snake, and lunged into my open mouth.
-thank the depths they are yours they are yours thank you-
I leaped into the water, scratching that itch to swim, and headed deep into ocean’s dark.
-They are mine now they are mine, thank the depths, the murkiness subsides-
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