WHAT LURKS BELOW US

Larry stared into the burbling, black water swirling with an eerie tranquility. Weight flocked to his chest. Surely, he would be fine? It was a straight shot from point A to point B, and he was a crocodile, after all—crafted by nature to reign in the water. So why was it that fear gnawed at him so tenaciously?

“I’m a crocodile,” Larry muttered under his breath, clenching his grinning jaws in a futile attempt at bravado. “I’m made for the water, for goodness’ sake.” The words dripped with an effortful confidence that belied the turmoil churning in his gut. Hesitant, he dipped one grubby paw into the lake, flinching against the biting cold that surged up his arm like icy fingers seeking to pull him under. He has no choice, this is the only way past. One steadying breath followed another, and he slid deeper into the murk. Shadows twisted and coiled beneath him as he descended into the obsidian depths.

When submerged, his head floated just above the surface, a dual-edged sword. On one talon, he could observe the pale moonlight dancing on the water’s surface, slick and inviting, but on the other, everything below, the things that burdened his mind, he was oblivious to. The obscured horrors gnawed at his psyche; he felt them fruitlessly begging him to quicken, to return to land. The surface shimmered with treachery as he glided through the water, roiling as his tail swished leisurely. He had to continually remind himself not to panic, disrupt whatever creatures were hidden in the palace of shadows encompassing him, because if he panics, then he’ll be prey.

Larry’s heart drilled against his ribcage with wild abandon at the eroded land growing closer. Texture unfolded as he approached the riparian zone—brown shrubs huddled against the earthy bank, pock-marked stones that toiled sharply to the upland, ragged stands of waving cattails reaching for him as a rescuer would reach for one lost at sea. With renewed determination, he picked up speed, tail thrumming more vigorously, the soft sloshes echoing against the veil of fog sinking low to swallow the world whole.

Then, it hit him. A jolt of sheer pain rocketed up his leg, and in an instant, the world shifted. The placid surface of the lake was engulfed black, and icy water filled his lungs when he instinctively gasped. Whorling bubbles escaped his maw, he could feel the weight of the water above pressing down, compressing his every thought, pushing the raw instinct to survive to the surface.

Something rough and clammy had latched onto his ankle, yanking him under with a stupefying amount of strength. A ghoulish webbed hand thrusted from the muck, knuckles and hook claws white. It digs into his callused armor, descaling him like a fish. A guttural roar erupted from deep within him, a howl of pure terror that reverberated through the loch, one he didn't know possible as he’s completely submerged. The creature, wreathed in a plume of oil and murk, loomed just beyond the reach of clarity. Larry’s heart thundered in his ears, drowning out the whispers of the current. He twisted, and bucked, and writhed, sending a renewed shockwave of motion reverberating through the depths, his bulky form a blur of feral desperation, throttle of instinct urging him to escape. He surged upward, fighting for light, for air.

Larry’s claws scraped against slimy reed as though the environment was a living, breathing entity assailing him, sucking him deeper into its maw. His tail thrashes furiously, and he feels it connect with something, that said something  mewling a croaky whimper of pain. The gnarled hand slackened its grip—just enough for him to break free. He rocketed to the surface, bursting through the liquid barrier with a guttural gasp that ripped in the air like a battle cry. The moon glimmered above, silver rays illuminating the parting veil of darkness for a fleeting moment.

But victory was ephemeral—overhead, his refuge failed when something loomed in the murky depths, a darker shadow now free and hastily catching up. A gurgling sob escapes Larry when three wispy, stinging tentacles graze his arm, and the venom shoots another pulse of encouragement to survive. He makes a beeline for a jutting boulder in the lake which had accumulated driftwood and made a tiny island, a safe point. Larry’s claws fist for the smoothened bark and he hurls himself forward, clamoring up the rock, nerves lurching like the waters below when a bioluminescent tail breaks the surface and dejectedly sinks back down. He stares, horrified, as the silhouette of the sea monster gradually disappears back to the depths.

Chills rippled through him as he floated, heart thrumming wildly, and Larry felt that weight return. He still had a few paces to swim. The dark waters taunted him, an echo reflecting his every fear, resonating the fate that so many had met before him. He steeled himself for what lay ahead, gaze skimming across the stretches of black water—dark, unfathomable, and brimming with the seething hunger of a monster.

Larry leapt back into the waters, paddling furiously. The fog broke away, and he could see land beckoning him forth, he could see a yellow glow steadily approaching from behind.