I accidentally spent 3 hours on this. Oops. I think it’s mostly the vast, with the stranger as a strong second and some of the buried mixed in
TW for submechanaphobia and like. All the other scary things associated with being deep in the ocean
Statement of Jane Doe, regarding the condition of her heart.
Taken direct from subject, 16th of September, 2025. Audio recording by UNKNOWN SOURCE.
You’re watching the news in a waiting room, and hear the familiar cadence of the anchors droning on about some new sub-aquatic venture and its numerous investors. You dismiss it as just a new and exciting way for a few billionaires to lighten their pockets. But as the day of its departure approaches, you feel a looming sense of dread. You barely manage to fall asleep the final night, and when you wake up your surroundings are unfamiliar and unsettling.
You’re blinded by fluorescent lights, buzzing just enough to be irritating. Your watch tells you it’s been a week since you last recall being conscious. Dazed, and feeling that familiar dread still building, you look around to try to understand what must be a dream. You feel detached from reality in a way you can’t quite describe. You spot a circular window in the corner of this small cell, but all you see beyond is a dark, expansive void.
Your eyes struggle to adjust to it as the aggravating lights drown out any focus, but that problem is soon solved for you as they crackle and fade out, one by one. A single light remains, illuminating a map plastered over a barred door. The highlighted section is labeled “West Atrium — Assigned Vessel #76.” The text above reads “You are here.” The rest of the map would be entirely standard if not for the neat black rectangles covering every other label. You briefly wonder why such a small room is called an “atrium,” as it seems to be quite the opposite. As you look around and realize those lights aren’t coming back on any time soon, your heart begins to pump a little faster.
Your eyes lock on to the window yet again, but you slowly realize it’s not the darkness of night sky that consumes your vision. You begin to notice a swaying motion in what you now realize is an underwater vessel. A dream or not, you decide you’d rather be anywhere else.
You glimpse slight movement in the distance, which draws your eye to an expansive mass of metal. It only contrasts the surroundings by its sheen, twisting and swallowing any light remaining in the depths. You can only make out vague shapes and angles, but you still get the distinct impression that there is movement within it. You try to tear your eyes away and look within the ship for any means of escape, but before you can, a singular limb emerges from the mass.
It looks like an astronomically large human arm, if not for the extra elbow. But you soon realize your mistake. With ever-increasing horror, you watch as four limbs accompany the first with jagged, curling fervor. The five fingers stretch from a makeshift hand made of a horrible patchwork, reaching ever closer to your miniscule form.
You stumble away in a mad dash to the other end of the room, which seems even smaller now. You crash into a panel on the wall, covered in buttons you have no hope of comprehending. A voice resonated through the structure, proclaiming: “Command accepted. Approach toward home now beginning. Hold for calibration.” After a few heartbeats that seem louder than usual, you feel yourself being pulled toward the floor as the vessel heads upward. You look once more to the window, seeing the wash of deep blue slowly fade into a paler foggy grey. You sigh in relief, convincing yourself that the construct in the deep was only a trick of your terrified mind.
Your newfound sense of peace turns sour and burns through your throat as you again sense a disturbance in the water. Your vessel rotates and you face the form standing before you, now removed from your blind spot. The ship faces its chest, and you try to look further but its mass is so great that most of its lower half is obscured by the depths below. The slight downward angle of the porthole cuts off your view of anything past its shoulders. It is distinctly not human, but you can tell that’s not for lack of trying. A great absence draws your eyes to its chest cavity, where an amalgamation of machinery and decomposing plastics attempt to emulate ribs. You realize that your ship is being cradled by its approximation of a hand, and you draw ever closer to the vacancy where a heart could be. You are frozen in terror.
As darkness consumes the ship and you sink into the machine, the same great voice booms in a steady cadence: “Arrived. Beginning verification process.” You hear an ear-splitting scraping noise and feel it resonate in your sternum. “Attachment to West Ventricle complete. Awaiting arrival of East Atrium and East Ventricle.” As your heartbeat grows impossibly loud, you realize that the sound is no longer coming from within your own chest.
Your final thought is to thank whatever god may exist that you were never cursed with the sight of its face.
janainaart
stormborns
blakekathryn
annaxmalina
