Beneath The Waves Novels & Stories

The way she ate, drank and belched…she must’ve been really hungry from work. I smiled as I thought to myself, feeling the small portrait in my chest pocket. Going south of Port Harcourt to the Atlantic Ocean and further to the point where no land was visible, a strange wind began to blow. As the strange wind blew, a ripple appeared in that ‘particular spot’ on the Atlantic Ocean. The ripple kept appearing and disappearing, until she appeared – the goddess of prosperity. The marine sphere was located two hundred and eighty metres below sea level. It was gigantic and existed only to the goddess, her ‘pet,’ her ‘marine aides’ and the invisible doubles of Ebie initiates.

She fell from sight and Alison went to her knees and inched forwards until she peered down into the waters far below. Erica’s face was a diminishing white blur as it sank beneath the waves, eye sockets dark as soot against the alabaster skin, mouth open as she tried to make a last ghastly, yet silent scream. A hand shot from the water, desperately scrabbling to try and gain purchase on stone slimy with seaweed and lichen.

Bruno said. Wolf leaned past a rack of fins, sniffed. “Your O-rings smell like despair.” “Those O-rings pay for the boat,” Fish said. “And the boat pays for my sanity.” He jerked his chin at the shop. “Walk.” They cut through aisles of gear: a rainbow of masks, regs hanging like chrome fruit, weight belts coiled like snakes. An enormous map of the coast took up one wall, peppered with pins—TURTLE CLEANING STATION, MANTA HIGHWAY, DANGER: DOWNCURRENT. Photos framed in driftwood showed grinning students, awkward OK-signs, a wedding proposal underwater that looked like suffocation with better lighting.

Screaming under my ribs. The second I got back inside, I ran up the stairs. “Meghan!” I pushed the apartment door open hard— and froze. The bathroom door was open now. Steam still leaking out. And inside— water was running again. I crossed immediately. “Meghan—” I shoved the curtain aside. And there she was. Standing under the shower. Fully human. Still. Not shifting. Not wolf. Just her. Black hair soaked and clinging to her face and shoulders. Eyes wide.

“Take as long as you need. I’m not going anywhere.” I nodded and started walking. My sneakers kept sinking into the sand, making it hard to move fast, so I just took them off. The sand was cold and a little bit damp. I walked all the way down to where the water was hitting the shore. The waves were loud, making a crashing sound that filled up my ears and made it so I couldn't hear anything else. I sat down on a big piece of wood that had washed up on the shore. I opened the box and took out the letter. My eyes stung as I looked at the pages. I had used a lot of ink, writing down every single thing I felt.

Part 8: The Deep Currents The world above was a cacophony of fire and falling empires, but at six hundred meters below the surface of the Mediterranean, there was only the "Blue Silence." The Vesper-01 moved through the water like a ghost, its titanium hull creaking under the immense pressure of the depths. Inside, the air was cool, recycled, and tasted faintly of scorched copper and mint.

Desperation drove me toward higher ground, clinging to the faint hope of rescue. However, luck wasn’t on my side. Out of nowhere, a massive wave slammed into me, sweeping me off my feet. I crashed into the sea, the icy water flooding my mouth and throat with its salty sting, leaving me gasping for breath. “Don’t freak out. Just stay calm...” I repeated to myself, clawing for control. I tried to swim away from the jagged rocks, but my belly slammed into one, its sharp edge slicing through me like a knife.

He was convinced he would die that night. His feet got tangled in his net. The strong waves made it impossible for Carl to free himself, and he drifted, battered by the waves, losing control. In his resignation, Carl saw something glowing swimming toward him. It weaved gracefully under the water, with a blueish glow, looking beautiful. When it got closer, the creature's hand reached for Carl, but it wasn't like a human hand. Between its fingers were delicate webs, and its nails were long, like claws that seemed capable of tearing through anything. It cut the net, rope entangled around his leg.

The morning after Jason’s shift with Vincent, the almost smile he’d seen lingered in his mind like an unresolved melody. It had been faint, nearly unnoticeable, but it was there, a crack in the icy facade Vincent wore like armor. Jason tried to brush it off as nothing, convincing himself that the Vincent he’d seen in that moment wasn’t any different from the aloof doctor he worked with every day. Yet, no matter how much he reasoned, the image refused to fade. It was as if he’d seen something beneath the surface, and as much as he hated to admit it, he wanted to see it again.

Or maybe I’d only just started noticing. Something was simmering beneath the surface. Not the usual sharp edge no, this was quieter. A slow leak. A hairline crack in the dam. He blinked. Slow. It cost him something. His hands gripped the handles of Orion’s chair tightly, the knuckles pale and trembling just barely. He never used to shake. “…We’re going this way,” Alex muttered, steering Orion forward. The mermaid was bundled in a thick blanket, tail obscured beneath another layer drenched in seawater. He didn’t seem to mind. Orion never did, always too busy marveling at the world, finding wonder in the cracks.