SeaJay
Contributor
I thought about writing a whole story about it, but seeing as y'all have enjoyed my short stories more than my long, I'll simply take an exerpt of what could have been:
...This time, as I rolled off the tiny jonboat at an angle, the cool water once again embraced me, with bubbles everywhere, yelling and popping like little children laughing on the playground. I surfaced in an instant, reaching for the stern of the boat, which whipped out of my hand as if it's silent motor was in overdrive. My buddy laughed hysterically.
Making a quick lunge to port, I grabbed for the line which trailed behind the boat. It ripped through my hand, threatening to take my wrinkled skin with it. Clamping down on it's nylon hyde, my body instantly went completely prone, and my mask pressed hard against my face. The sound of water rushing by filled my ears, and my regulator threatened to press vacant life into my lungs.
Using a hand-over-hand motion, I pulled myself against the incredible current. I was really tired this time, and all the muscles in my arms began to burn. Kicking furiously to alleviate some of the strain, I made my way up the side of the boat, burning cubic feet with fervor.
Finally making it to the anchor line, I reached back with my left hand and in an instant I was unglued from the surface, entombed in a wet, green chill that will forever make me wonder why I love this sport so much.
Against a current which refused to pause for breath, I continued my plight... Hand over hand, forward and down past where light has not been... Ever. Monsters invaded my mind, and the rope dug into my hands. Closing my worthless eyes, I listened and felt my way toward a deeper, darker, colder, more catatonic water. A simple bend at the waist produced more lift - or thrust downward - than any combination of weight or float ever could. Like a climber in reverse, I grabbed my way to the bottom of the planet, reaching out with my fingertips on each thrust, hoping to find something hard - metallic - something man-made. Something that wouldn't wiggle or bite when I muscled my way towards it. I dared not to reach for a light; I could not spare the strength.
Then, in a sudden vaccum, slam, and stillness, I was pushed against the murky bottom, where the rushing waters could flow above me, creating a weird and wonderful venturi effect, holding me fast to the mud and oyster shells. Dreadful thoughts of the crustaceans I'd seen earlier picking away at my body, scavenging my flesh while I writhed in the muck fought for control of my brain.
Inching forward, I found it. First a chain... A solid reminder of man's triumph over nature... Then the sharp edges of the anchor, jabbed into a crevice in the rock surely millions of years old. Cocking an edge of the chain under an arm, I reached out and pulled a light free and twisted it on. I opened my eyes. Then I blinked and opened them again.
I'd never seen such black waters.
My gauges were nearly impossible to read, but after a few minutes I was able to ascertain that I was at a mere 2600 psi. I'd burned up some 600 psi just getting down here! And my depth... Certainly I must be near the bowels of hell...
My guage read a mere 21 feet. For a moment I blinked and looked again, disbelieving, and nearly had my facemask torn from my head.
The beam from my light shone out a mere four inches, but I could only see it if I was closer than that. Wondering what I should do with my half-lightsabre, I decided that I'd see nothing anyway, and shut it down and clipped it off. This was going to be a blind dive.
Still holding on, and positioning myself firmly against the mushy floor, I thrust a hand into rock and mud, feeling for the prize... The smooth, calcified finish with the sharply acute angles of the teeth of the giant megladon, a mythical monster that made today's Great Whites look like guppies.
With fingers probing furiously, I could feel the warm mud brush past my face in an unseen cloud of prehistoric soil.
That's when it happened.
Opening my eyes only out of instinct for the strain, I saw a tiny light sparkle and disappear. Then another. And another. Like a celestial body in warp drive, I stared, wide-eyed, into blackness, watching them come at me. Millions of them - tiny, bioluminescent creatures of all kinds - lit up in protest as the current smashed them against my facemask.
I watched in awe for what seemed to be forever, imagining that my head and shoulders must be covered in them. Thinking myself a comet of bioluminescence in the ripping current, I held onto my lifeline and thought about those who will never see the things that I've seen.
I love scuba diving.
...This time, as I rolled off the tiny jonboat at an angle, the cool water once again embraced me, with bubbles everywhere, yelling and popping like little children laughing on the playground. I surfaced in an instant, reaching for the stern of the boat, which whipped out of my hand as if it's silent motor was in overdrive. My buddy laughed hysterically.
Making a quick lunge to port, I grabbed for the line which trailed behind the boat. It ripped through my hand, threatening to take my wrinkled skin with it. Clamping down on it's nylon hyde, my body instantly went completely prone, and my mask pressed hard against my face. The sound of water rushing by filled my ears, and my regulator threatened to press vacant life into my lungs.
Using a hand-over-hand motion, I pulled myself against the incredible current. I was really tired this time, and all the muscles in my arms began to burn. Kicking furiously to alleviate some of the strain, I made my way up the side of the boat, burning cubic feet with fervor.
Finally making it to the anchor line, I reached back with my left hand and in an instant I was unglued from the surface, entombed in a wet, green chill that will forever make me wonder why I love this sport so much.
Against a current which refused to pause for breath, I continued my plight... Hand over hand, forward and down past where light has not been... Ever. Monsters invaded my mind, and the rope dug into my hands. Closing my worthless eyes, I listened and felt my way toward a deeper, darker, colder, more catatonic water. A simple bend at the waist produced more lift - or thrust downward - than any combination of weight or float ever could. Like a climber in reverse, I grabbed my way to the bottom of the planet, reaching out with my fingertips on each thrust, hoping to find something hard - metallic - something man-made. Something that wouldn't wiggle or bite when I muscled my way towards it. I dared not to reach for a light; I could not spare the strength.
Then, in a sudden vaccum, slam, and stillness, I was pushed against the murky bottom, where the rushing waters could flow above me, creating a weird and wonderful venturi effect, holding me fast to the mud and oyster shells. Dreadful thoughts of the crustaceans I'd seen earlier picking away at my body, scavenging my flesh while I writhed in the muck fought for control of my brain.
Inching forward, I found it. First a chain... A solid reminder of man's triumph over nature... Then the sharp edges of the anchor, jabbed into a crevice in the rock surely millions of years old. Cocking an edge of the chain under an arm, I reached out and pulled a light free and twisted it on. I opened my eyes. Then I blinked and opened them again.
I'd never seen such black waters.
My gauges were nearly impossible to read, but after a few minutes I was able to ascertain that I was at a mere 2600 psi. I'd burned up some 600 psi just getting down here! And my depth... Certainly I must be near the bowels of hell...
My guage read a mere 21 feet. For a moment I blinked and looked again, disbelieving, and nearly had my facemask torn from my head.
The beam from my light shone out a mere four inches, but I could only see it if I was closer than that. Wondering what I should do with my half-lightsabre, I decided that I'd see nothing anyway, and shut it down and clipped it off. This was going to be a blind dive.
Still holding on, and positioning myself firmly against the mushy floor, I thrust a hand into rock and mud, feeling for the prize... The smooth, calcified finish with the sharply acute angles of the teeth of the giant megladon, a mythical monster that made today's Great Whites look like guppies.
With fingers probing furiously, I could feel the warm mud brush past my face in an unseen cloud of prehistoric soil.
That's when it happened.
Opening my eyes only out of instinct for the strain, I saw a tiny light sparkle and disappear. Then another. And another. Like a celestial body in warp drive, I stared, wide-eyed, into blackness, watching them come at me. Millions of them - tiny, bioluminescent creatures of all kinds - lit up in protest as the current smashed them against my facemask.
I watched in awe for what seemed to be forever, imagining that my head and shoulders must be covered in them. Thinking myself a comet of bioluminescence in the ripping current, I held onto my lifeline and thought about those who will never see the things that I've seen.
I love scuba diving.
