“There was a deep sea I once dared to cross,
Pitch black and devoid of life.
The cold, bitter sea cannot be bothered
with almost certain uncertainties.
The tips of the waves were razor sharp;
Imposed is a gentle reminder that my flesh is not steel.
What exists beneath the water's ragged teeth?
..I don't need to be told,
for I am well acquainted with that darkness & that fear;
We've shared a bed, twin-sized, for twenty-two years.
The winds lashed and the waves churned.
"Get out now!" they screamed at me.
But where, how, when there's nowhere to go?
The only possible direction is down, straight below.
The ocean stole my soul, as it swallowed me whole.
Down here,
air is a luxury that I'm denied
again and again,
regardless of time spent
begging for the weight of
the water to relent,
and set me free.
But, it took water filling up my lungs
for me to finally feel peace--
to live where silence exists without grief.
I am at the ocean's whim,
I follow, and it leads.
All the while, I beg and I plead,
"Take me home, wherever home is, please...."
The current reacts violently to my request.
I'm spun around, turned upside down
and I have lost my way.
But my way can't save me anymore.
The waves push. They pull. I give in to their will.”
–Chelsea
. . .
Maybe it was his mother’s spirit nagging at him, even in death, but one rainy afternoon, young Raven Fall–on a whim, mind you–decided to start cleaning the house from top to bottom.
And it’s not like he had anything better to do really, other than binge-watching some movies or anime (no thanks to the stupid virus) for hours straight on the internet that left his eyes puffy-red and kind of hurting… and besides, it’s his mother’s 46th birthday this year–or it would have been, had she been alive to actually, you know, celebrate it with him.
This is the least that he could do for her memory.
You see, ever since his mom suddenly passed away on a freak of a car accident six months ago, Raven had been rather resigned with the idea of living on his own.
He’s not in a relationship, had no siblings or cousins that he was close with… or any that he knew of. His dad died on a violent shootout while he was on duty on the bank he was working on as a teller way back when Raven was still a little kid (while his biological mother died right after giving birth to him) and he and his mom–his dad remarried when Raven was three–used to visit her dad in his classy penthouse back in New York on special occasions but that didn’t really mean Raven was lonely growing up.
Well, he was… sometimes, mostly because of the pandemic, if he was really being honest since he’s literally alone right now. But hey that happens to anyone who’s been forcefully made into shut-ins, right?
Chunky–his mother’s old and flabby Persian longhair–suddenly meowed rather loudly, causing him to jolt in surprise, as if to remind Raven (who had been a bit preoccupied for the past few minutes on trying to hoist himself up on the attic with little improvement) that the mere mortal was now being graced by one Mister Grouchy-puss’s royal presence after hours of peaceful napping and must now be fed… pronto.
He gave the pale-yellow feather duster of a feline who was weaving and rubbing itself madly around his legs the stink eye.
It didn’t care.
Raven’s expression turned flatter even more, “Buddy, as you can see… unlike you, I’m in the middle of something here!”
The cat yowled too loudly at that, as if in protest, reaching up to paw at his thighs rather aggressively. Raven winced, trying to shake the persistent thing off of him. Chunky’s sharp claws were lightly digging on his skin and Raven made a mental note to trim those later.
At least, the grumpy kitty’s claws are not that sharp enough to actually draw blood, but they were long enough to hurt quite a bit, as if to issue out a warning.
If cats had the ability to talk, Chunky would have most likely been screaming: “FEED ME! FEED ME, MORTAL!”
And Raven rolled his eyes at such a ridiculous thought as he finally pulled himself right up inside the attic, leaving the cat to growl and glare up at his socks-clad feet, tail swishing belligerently.
Feeling a bit childish, Raven stuck his tongue out.
Seriously, leave it up to his cat (who had way too much fat for his own good) to get all dramatic on him. It’s not like Raven was even starving the old rug on purpose!
…Okay, maybe he is.
(But hey, it was on Vet’s orders!)
And it’s not his fault the cat’s well on his way to obesity!
Making a face, Raven pointedly ignored the cat’s theatrics as he looked around the attic for the first time in what seemed to be over a year, sneezing a little too loudly not even a second later.
Without his Mom’s OCD and her usual ‘I-must-obliterate-every-single-microscopic-dust-and-dirt-at-all-times’ routine, the place had finally seen its fair share of dust… but not to the point of being turned into a whole new ecosystem, nothing unmanageable that the room will be infested with weird creepy-crawlies like rats. Or spiders.
He’ll just wipe and vacuum the place up right after he make sure everything’s in its proper place and then he’s going to put the stupid cat on a time out.
. . .
At some point, Chunky had managed to successfully jump in the attic (a feat Raven found rather impressive considering the cat’s weight) and was practically a loud, growling machine by his side while Raven tried to sort out some old documents his mother had left behind.
Normally, Raven wouldn’t have taken so long (his cat often demands to be pet so the not-so-little chonk is definitely to blame for that too) but he couldn’t help but be engrossed at the interesting contents on some of the old newspapers that seemed to be strewn clumsily around with old researches, copies of written reports or notes that were now scattered around him in a messy circle, highlighted with bright blue markers that never failed to draw his attention from time to time.
Raven was rather intrigued at how well-kept it all had been despite how long it must have been here in the attic, just sitting here gathering dust.
Leave it to good ole Mom.
There were at least three written reports about maritime life or activity inside the trunk she had it sealed in rather meticulously, more than ten newspaper articles circling about people or vessels that had somehow mysteriously gone missing at sea (if he were to guess, Raven’s betting such incidents could be caused by pirates or foul play even) that have been reported all over the world and there were also four, serious-looking books about marine biology–Raven pointedly decided to stay away from those, the books looked so judging and intimidating as is–one was even a thin novelette about some horror story (okay so… where the hell does this one fit in?) with a contact number written on the first page in glossy blue ink, neatly signed by one ‘Blessing’.
His mother wasn’t even a fan of horror stories.
Raven raised an eyebrow.
…Well, that was weird.
Chunky meowed loudly again.
What a frighteningly cute sound.
The cat’s ridiculously fluffy tail suddenly struck Raven straight on the mouth, causing him to splutter, coughing, and waving the little grouch away from his face.
The cat seemed to huff in annoyance at being shooed off like a pest (which he is!) and so Chunky whirled–quite a bit dramatically, might he add–to stalk off a bit further away to give himself and his human much-needed space.
As the fluffy fur-ball began to groom himself, leaving Raven for a moment in peace to carry on skimming around on some of the newspaper articles scattered around him. February 3, year 2018 was probably the most recent around here… but…
…
Wait.
Wait a minute.
His eyes widened.
What the hell?
* * * * *
SONG OF THE SEA
Written by: Leeka Yah
November 17, 2012
A group of marine biologists situated in the coast of Guam, (names redacted), managed to pick up strange noises coming from somewhere deep within the Pacific Ocean around 2 in the morning.
It was claimed to have lasted until sunrise.
They managed to track it down and pinpoint the location where the noises are said to be coming from: and much to their surprise, it was coming somewhere deep within the Mariana’s trench.
However, much to their confusion, the exact source of these strange noises was so deep that it was theorized to be possibly located somewhere within the depths of the Challenger Deep and that the noises are even loud enough to be heard in almost any oceanic microphones they had initially planted to surround the area in hopes of recording some maritime activity and the shifting of the tectonic plates.
The noises were described to have happened all of a sudden that it caught everyone completely off-guard and some of the staff that have been present on the scene even claimed that the noises were indistinguishable at first but the longer it went on, it seems to have a tone, a pattern–similar to that of a melody.
It was said to be eerie and enchanting all at once.
“Unlike anything we’ve ever heard before,” said (name redacted)
“It almost sounded like a mother singing to put their child to sleep, you know, like a lullaby… and whatever could have made those noises… they were bound to be big because it was loud enough to be picked up all the way from up here,” said Dr. (name redacted), “And they were begging to be heard, to be known.”
Some of the other marine biologists hypothesized that it could possibly be an undiscovered type of whales living and swimming in a pod together but this assumption was rebuffed almost immediately due to the location of the noises’ source. However, some backed up this theory, claiming that it may been due to the cause of an echo and some even argued that the creatures that live within the Mariana Trench have solid evidences that they have somehow adapted… so much so that even though they’ve adopted terrifying appearances in exchange to survive the depths even better, it could still be possible while some still believed that these mysterious noises were caused by shockwaves or the movement of the tectonic plates itself.
Questions upon questions piled up amongst them with no concrete answers to be found. But unfortunately, none of them were able to descend in the Mariana’s trench to know what it was.
However, one question lingers in everyone’s minds:
…what if there really was something down there?
* * * * *
Absurdly enough, Raven suddenly felt like an ice pick had poked him on the back, goosebumps littering on his skin as he shivered and hurriedly browsed through some of the other newspaper articles as well.
It’s just…
It couldn’t be…
Ship Gone MIA–May 20, 1999
A Tragedy in Saipan–February 3, 2018
Descent of SS. Saint–February 8, 2002
Raven frowned and hurriedly browsed through some of the other written reports as well, his hunch soon being proven true the longer he browsed through the papers and dig a little deeper.
Because all of these documents, they…
They are all about strange happenstances at sea throughout the years in different places (but curiously enough, most had occurred all over or somewhere near around the Pacific Ocean), and all are borderline creepy what with the number of casualties that had all been lost to watery graves or worse, pronounced as dead even without the retrieval of their usually mangled or bloated bodies as proof of their gruesome fate.
The stories he had skimmed through were all mostly unexplainable, almost like they were all caused by major freak accidents or–or even sheer bad luck–which was very dangerous and dare he say it, almost… disturbing…
Had his mother been compiling some sort of research in her spare time? For real, what’s with these weird articles?
What are these things supposed to be for?!
Something suspicious and something like alarm slowly wormed its way on his gut the longer he looked around him, documents and sources all but citing implicitly about something… sinister.
…Like he was missing something.
He sounded paranoid even to himself.
And Raven didn’t like the feeling.
That’s probably not the worst part. No, the worst part is seeing some of the ripped-out notes (that he suspects had been taken from some sort of journal since they were all made of the same aesthetics, probably from the same material) and old medical files that once belonged to his mother when she had been somewhere around his age, perhaps even younger.
Something about the various institutions his mother had once been committed into over her teenage years…
Raven was rather appalled when he came upon the words ‘shock treatment’, the dosage of the medicines that have been prescribed, video tapes, recordings of his mother’s conversations with various therapists that all concludes a severe case of delusion and the word ‘thalassophobia’ popping up here and there due to the consequences of ‘bottling up trauma’…
Raven had been more than aware that his mother didn’t like the idea of going to beaches for as long as he remembered (or any large bodies of water, for that matter) but he didn’t know that it was this serious. He just simply assumed that she wasn’t a fan.
He had never known to this extent…
And Raven instantly felt like he had stumbled upon something that should have been better off left alone.
But like a man possessed, especially with his curiosity peaked at the height of nothing better to do, Raven grabs the thin novelette with him as he immediately hurries downstairs to grab his cell phone, a cold thrill of anticipation rushing through him.
He’s gonna get answers.
Raven was practically buzzing with so many questions at once, he just knew he had to make a call… and he had a very good feeling that whoever this ‘Blessing’ was, they most likely know more than he ever had.
And as Raven impatiently waits for this person to pick up, a lot of things nagged on his mind persistently, like an itch that just won’t go away no matter how hard he tried to compose himself, because there are already questions after questions…
But one thing stood out the most:
What does his mother have to do with all of this?