Katee Allen

In the Depths

The beach was warmer than ever, the sun reflecting off of the shimmering white sandcastles that lined the coast like primitive huts for crabs. Small children were racing with the tide, running back and forth, back and forth, hoping that the next crashing wave wouldn’t catch them. They ran giggling back to their architectural masterpieces, a few accidentally crushing them like humanoid Godzillas before running back trying to catch the receding water. Hot chicks with string bikinis lined the dunes with golden skin exposed to the luscious rays of the sun and the licentious glares of men. Mothers sat huddled under large umbrellas with saucy romance novels in one hand and margaritas in the other, not worrying about the safety of their children in the water.

 Everyone rushed to the beach that year. Flocks of tourists dressed in floral Hawaiian shirts, baggy cargo pants and sandals paired with knee-high socks from the Midwest flooded the coastal regions. Hotels were booked for months and small gift shops profited heavily. It was the beginning of September, the last week of freedom before school began and most parents had come to the same conclusion that, now that all the sharks were gone, what better way to enjoy the end of summer than to go to the beach?

 I remember the exact day, almost down to the exact time. September 12th, 2025. It was around noon, maybe a few minutes past. I knew because the bell tower had just rung before the first person went under. The water was pretty rough that day, the wind had been picking up for a while. We were in the middle of hurricane season, after all. But further out, where the waves were just beginning to crest was a small group of teenagers, excited to explore the deep water for the first time without the fear of the ocean’s top apex predator. I had my eyes set on them, knowing that if anyone was to go under, it was going to be one of those idiots.

There was no screaming, no flailing. At least not from the boy, anyways. A friend gave the warning cry, screaming that he had been pulled under by something which she had felt it brush up against her leg. The other lifeguards were laughing at the absurdity of an attack and I had to force a chuckle, but even with the sharks gone the deep water still terrified me. I had read too many H.P. Lovecraft stories late at night to make me forever wary of deep water. But the lifeguarding job gave me more money than retail, so I sucked up the nerves and dealt with it.

 As my job demanded, I climbed down the lifeguard stand, grabbed my board, and ran across the sand, kicking it up in streams across unsuspecting sunbathers and trampling at least one sandcastle. When I got to the water I saw another person, bobbing like a buoy not twenty feet off the shore, get pulled under with almost no splash.

 I hesitated, looking left and right at the other two lifeguards who joined me. We didn’t say a word but stood there frozen. We had killed all the sharks, right? Besides, there was no blood and sharks just didn’t pull their prey down, they dragged it.

 “What do we do?” Ronan was just as shocked as I was, his eyes bulging out of his head in fear. None of us had ever experienced a shark attack and figured we never would. But I swallowed my fear like a pill stuck at the back of my throat and pulled my board tighter to my chest.

 “We have to go save him.” I said, my feet pulling me towards the water though every fiber of my being was screaming to turn the opposite way, to run away from the water, from the beach, and get into my car and drive away as fast as possible.

 I should have listened to that instinct.

 Together the three of us paddled out as fast as we could to the spot we had last seen the boy. My fear was getting to me and soon my arms were numb, but I willed them to keep paddling through the choppy water. I should have noticed how dark the water was. It was always so clear and beautiful, the color of your stereotypical Caribbean sea. But that day it was dark, almost inky black like the sea before a storm. That was our first warning sign.

 “There’s no sign of him, Kyle. We should just turn back,” Adam whimpered, his head whipping back and forth as he looked around him as if waiting for something to appear, something dangerous.

 But we never saw it coming.

 As we were turning around to paddle back to shore, we heard a low rumbling coming from the depth of the water itself, the sound that an earthquake makes but you can never find the source. Our bones rattled and our stomachs churned as we clutched our ears from the sheer volume.

 “It’s right below us!” Ronan screamed, kicking himself into a frenzy as he paddled his way towards shore. Adam and I followed suit, rushing to the safety of dry land. But as soon as the rumbling stopped there was a small splash to my left where Adam was supposed to be but all that was there was an empty board. No teeth marks, no blood in the water, no bubbles coming up from below. It was as if he had never existed.

 “Fuck, Kyle!” Ronan cried as he paddled harder. I had my eyes on him when the thing grabbed him. A singular long tentacle, greenish-black in color lined with dark red suction cups slid out of the water behind his board and wrapped itself around his waist. In the blink of an eye it pulled him down before Ronan even knew what happened. I sat on my board dumfounded.

Whatever it was, it was huge. Big enough to span the thirty feet between Adam’s board and Ronan’s. I was right in the middle. It could get me, too. But I couldn’t even think about that now and willed myself to paddle harder, my mind flashing images of what could possibly be beneath me.

I was able to reach the edge of the shallow waters before it knocked me off my board. This time, it was just playing with its food.

The force knocked the air out of me and the salt water stung my eyes before I could open them to take a good look at the creature.

It spanned the entire length of the bay. That’s why the water looked so dark because it was taking up all the space under the surface. People had been swimming over this thing all day. It was dark green, nearly black and there were more tentacles than I could count, just an absolute mass of them knotted and twisting together. I saw the four bodies tangled in them being pushed closer to a gaping maw lined with numerous rows of sharp teeth gnashing in anticipation of its meal. All of them were still alive, their mouths open and eyes blinking as they tried to cry out for help but there was nothing I could do. I tried to scream but the water filled my lungs and I sputtered, kicking my way to the surface.

Once I broke free of the water I gasped for air, taking a second to fill my aching lungs before swimming for dear life. Ahead of me was the golden sand welcoming me to her shores, offering me protection from the horrors of the deep. There was even a crowd gathered, screaming and cheering me on, watching with anticipation as I raced against a thing I knew could catch me if it wanted to. I didn’t notice the pain radiating in my chest as I forgot to breathe, my arms numb as I forced them to push through the water. It wasn’t until my feet touched the sand that I noticed I was screaming the entire time, my eyes frozen open in fear.

It let me live. Maybe four full-grown men was enough for it, would sate its appetite for the time being. I was pulled ashore by a small group of people while sirens blared in the distance.

Another lifeguard tried to wrap me in a blanket, but I was already pushing people aside and got lost in the crowd. I stumbled onto a margarita that one of the beachgoers had been drinking earlier and I chugged it like it was the last drink I would ever have. The paramedics found me shaking under my lifeguard stand, wrestled the beverage away from me and forced the blanket around me.

Although I knew I was on dry land, I still felt like I was drowning. Everything I had just seen kept playing over in my head and the blanket felt like that thing’s tentacles were wrapping around me. I screamed my lungs raw and felt like I was drowning again due to the pain. The crowd’s attention was divided between me and the sea. I wondered which sight was scarier for them. The authorities cleared the beach and the news teams mobbed me, begging me to describe what I saw. Questions, microphones and cameras were coming in from all directions, and all I could offer in return was hoarse babbling about giant green tentacles, teeth that came from all directions, and how I watched as my friends screamed through collapsed lungs and inky water, begging me to save them. Luckily the police escorted me away, creating a barrier between me and the media piranhas looking for answers that I just didn’t have. The paramedics cleared me of having any physical injuries but by the looks they were giving me, they knew I was broken beyond repair.

In the weeks after the first attack, beaches around the world faced the same creatures. We lacked any information on it and so it was soon dubbed the Kraken after the mystical sea monster. It was only fitting. Scientists figured that the sharks were the only predator of this thing and by killing the sharks off we only unleashed a worse hell upon ourselves.

Beaches were closed indefinitely. They’re trying to figure out just where these things had been hiding and how they went unnoticed for so long. Every few weeks a team of scientists are sent out from some country in boats, at first small dinghies but after those proved small enough to be dragged down to the depths by the Kraken, they upgraded to Naval battleships. Last week they were able to kill one, dragging it up onto the flight deck of the ship. There was live footage of it being dragged on deck and the strain of its weight was snapping the industrial military grade steel cable on the ship’s cranes. Its mass draped over the ship and its tentacles dangled and dragged in the water as they brought it back for further scientific study.

But there’s nothing more we can do. These things keep spawning and we can’t stop it. If only the sharks would come back.