I wake up to a feeling of dizziness. My head is pounding and I can feel bile rising in my throat. I swallow it down and reach my hooves up to rub the last vestiges of sleep out of my eyes, but all I get for my effort is a splash of water that I’m forced to blink away, yet succeeds in pulling me fully from my slumber. As soon as my vision is clear it becomes obvious why my hooves, and the rest of my body now that I realize it, are wet. I’m surrounded by water.
I’m floating adrift in the ocean.
I check all around me; the ocean stretches all the way to the horizon in every direction without any visible land in sight. Scattered around me are a few large pieces of painted wood, floating lazily on the ocean surface. I look at myself to see that a saddlebag is strapped to my barrel — the name tag, ‘Pyro’, is heavily waterlogged and in danger of breaking apart — while a life vest is keeping me afloat. My initial confusion gives way as memories begin surfacing from the dark corners of my mind.
I was aboard Candy Cruise No. 4, a cruise ship sailing across the South Luna Ocean bound for the Marequesas. I remember going out onto the starboard deck to enjoy the cool night breeze; ship rules required all passengers to put on life jackets before going out onto the outer decks. There was a giant bang and the ship tipped over on one side, enough to send me sprawling over the railing and into the water.
Wait. No, there was something else. Something hidden in the dark just beyond the range of the lights on the outer decks that I’m positive wasn’t there before I fell overboard. Or was it? I can’t remember a definitive shape.
I put that thought out of my mind and look around again. All the wood must be wreckage from the ship, meaning it sunk, but where is anyone else? There were plenty of pegasi and even a few gryphons on board, but I don’t see another living soul around. Even the unicorns should’ve been able to magic their way out somehow. I paddle my way over to one of the larger pieces of wreckage and hoist myself up onto it.
“Hello!?” I call. “Can anyone hear me!?”
No reply comes. I swivel my head around looking for any signs of life again but see nothing.
“Can anypony hear me!?”
Nothing.
Conservation of energy is important, so I stop calling out and sit down. I reach into my saddlebag and, thank Celestia, my canteen is intact and still full of fresh water. My camera is all wet and useless, though. I take a conservative swig of water, relishing in the fresh taste that washes the salt out of my mouth. Swishing the canteen around, there seems to be about enough water for four or five more big gulps. I screw the cap back on and place it back into my saddlebag before laying down to think.
What hit the ship? Where did everyone go? And if I’m in the same spot that the ship sank, where’s the thing that sank the ship? A chill runs down my spine when the full reality of my situation dawns on me. I’m all alone in the middle of the ocean. I’ve got limited water, no food, and no sign of land anywhere. Where are the currents going to take me? I pray that there’s land just beyond the horizon and that I’ll be there in a couple of days.
I also pray for all the souls that might have been lost.
Night has fallen. Luna’s full moon shines big and bright, bathing the ocean surface in its warm, luminous radiance. There are only a few small clouds floating around uncontrolled. I would’ve thought being stranded in the middle of the ocean would be cause for total panic, but no, it’s more boring than anything. Going crazy and delirious might be a more legitimate fear than running out of water before I reach land. There are no physical activities to do while stuck on a floating piece of wood; all I have is my own psyche to keep me from losing my sanity.
My thoughts have wandered to many different places over the course of the day. My parents will be beside themself with worry when news gets out that Candy Cruise No. 4 never docked into port in the Marequesas. Sweet Celestia, the presses are going to have a field day interviewing me. Assuming, of course, I manage to get out of this alive. But everyone else… what happened to them? I’m not a weatherpony or an oceanographer, but what kind of natural phenomenon could’ve caused the ship to sink, yet leave me and only me alive? Nothing that I can think of. Something magical, perhaps? I’m not an expert on that stuff, but I’d believe it. The way I remember things it’s like something hit the ship from the opposite side I was on.
I roll over on the wooden debris as my mind continues stirring. Was it a sea monster of some kind? Maybe. It’s a mystery what lies far beneath the surface of the ocean, or even how deep the ocean itself goes. There’s plenty of room for something big and dangerous to hide. Ah, I need to stop thinking about this if I want to get any sleep.
I roll over again and try to concentrate on other things, which isn’t a lot considering where I am. But the nighttime air is calm and serene and Luna’s moon is beautiful. The water laps against the edge as the debris gently rocks in the ocean’s current. It’s a comfortable ride, all things considered. Everything is so peaceful. So tranquil. With a smile, I allow my eyes to close and get some rest.
I have no way of knowing how much time has passed when I wake up, but it’s still nighttime. There’s far greater cloud cover in the sky now. I watch, feeling a tinge of dread, as a cloud slowly rolls over the moon, stripping away all the precious light it provides. That sucks.
I lay on my back, losing myself to my thoughts again. Oatcakes and carrot juice would be amazing right about now. Or some Sweet Apple Acres apple cobbler. Oh yeah, those would hit the spot right about now… Wait, is that drool coming from my mouth? I reach up to confirm that, indeed, it is. I really am going to go crazy at this rate. I sit up and scan the darkened nighttime oceanscape around me. Which way is north or south? East or west? There could be land on the horizon and I wouldn’t know it.
I blink. What was that? I squint my eyes, straining to see through the darkness. What was that in front of me? It looked like something moved. Something big. As though the universe has decided to pity me, the clouds choose that moment to move out of the moon’s way. The water’s surface is once again bathed in bright moonlight, affording me clarity. And there, quite a distance away, I see it. A black silhouette atop the water. I can’t make out any details, or even a pattern of movement, but it’s definitely a living creature. It quickly sinks below the surface without a sound, leaving the ocean’s surface barren once again save for me.
I wait to see if the thing might resurface, but several minutes pass without anything happening. That was definitely not just my imagination. Maybe it was just a migrating whale. That makes sense, I guess.
I lay on my barrel and curl up, intent on getting more sleep.
The sun shows it to be about late morning when I wake up. I stand up and rub the sleep out of my eyes. Thank goodness I didn’t roll off the debris during the night. A brief examination of my person shows my saddlebag is still strapped to my side. The debris is still intact as well. I’d be absolutely screwed if I hadn’t found a piece specifically built to withstand waterlogging.
I take another swig of water from my canteen before scanning the ocean around me. And there, just off to my left, against the horizon is the best possible thing that could greet me upon waking up.
Land!
It’s very far away, little more than a faint silhouette atop the horizon, but it’s definitely there. Maybe somewhere between forty and fifty miles, give or take. The current might be pulling me towards it, but I’m not taking any chances. I clutch part of the debris in my mouth and work to break it off. It takes a long time to wear down the strengthened wood, but I manage to break off a decent length of it, big enough to use as a paddle. I position myself in the middle of the debris and get to work paddling.
Strong stroke. Second stroke. Repeat three times. Deep breath. Strong stroke. Second stroke. Repeat three times. Deep breath. I fall into this rhythm as I paddle towards the landmass. With any luck, it’s the Equestrian mainland and I’ll be able to find a town quickly to get food, water, a roof over my head and let people know what happened. More than anything, I want to get back home and take a long break from sea cruises.
Strong stroke. Second stroke. Repeat three times. Deep breath. The day passes and I continuously keep up this rhythm. The only time I stop is to take another swig of water; I’m close to running out, but I should be able to make landfall before I die of dehydration. I can make good progress today if I keep a steady pace and don’t overexert myself.
Strong stroke. Second stroke. Repeat three times. Deep breath. Strong stroke. Second stroke. Repeat three times. Deep breath. Strong stro—
My makeshift paddle barely dips below the surface when it suddenly jerks out of my mouth. I look to my left, only to get a faceful of saltwater as something splashes in my face. I cough and spit out the water and use a hoof to wipe my face clean. What the heck just happened? I glance at the water again.
My blood turns to ice.
Streaking through the water, close enough that I can clearly make out its razor-sharp teeth, rounded head and vertical tail fin, is a shark. I have no extensive knowledge of sharks, so I can’t tell what species it is. All that matters is that it’s here, with me. And circling the debris. The sight of two more fins slicing the water’s surface several yards away only compounds my rising fear.
My heart hammers in my chest and my stomach starts doing flip flops. The sharks swim in and out of view, occasionally close enough that, if I was foolish enough, I could reach out and touch their streamlined bodies. I have nowhere to escape to. My paddle resurfaces a short distance away, meaning there’s nothing to distract the sharks from coming after me.
I cry out as the debris is struck from beneath, sending me flying through the air into the water. I feel my saddlebag come undone as I hit the surface with a giant splash, submerging below for a second before I scramble upward, breaking the surface of the water with a gasp. Looking back, I see the sharks ferociously tearing apart the debris. Their jaws clamp on the wood and they shake their heads violently from side to side, tearing it to splinters. One shark dives under and launches itself beneath the wood, tearing off a huge chunk as it breaches the water like a whale before coming down with an enormous splash.
They make quick work of the debris, leaving nothing more than a splintered mess floating atop the water as they retreat away. Except for one which streaks past me and I scream at the top of my lungs while frantically splashing on impulse. It comes back for another pass, then another. And another. It’s circling me. Sweet Celestia, I’m going to die here, eaten by this mindless creature. The two remaining sharks appear a short distance away, their dorsal fins breaking the water as they come to join their brethren in circling their prey.
My life flashes before my eyes. My family. My friends. My various crushes throughout foalhood. My heart feels like it’s going to burst from my chest and my stomach is twisting itself apart. One of the sharks appears a fair distance in front of me and torpedoes through the water towards me. Adrenaline rushes through my veins and I scream again. My legs move of their own accord and pedal frantically backward. The other two sharks appear in my peripheral vision. They close in on me. Their jaws open; I’m staring death in the face. I scream one more time and close my eyes.
I wait for the feeling of teeth tearing into my flesh, of being chewed and eaten alive. I wait. Time ticks by. Seconds pass without anything happening. I crack one eye open. All that greets me is the calm, uninterrupted surface of the ocean. The sharks are gone. My heart settles down.
I open the other eye. What just happened? I dip my head below the surface, but there’s nothing to be seen except the endless blue all around me. My thoughts start to creep toward the idea that I was just delirious and imagining things, but the sight of the scattered pieces of the wooden debris floating a short distance away quickly dispels that notion. That was real. I was about to be attacked. So where did the sharks go so suddenly?
My eyes alight on another sight; my saddlebag. I gently swim over and check inside. The canteen is gone, as is the camera. I frantically swivel my head around for any sight of the former but find nothing. Horseapples! Well, I have a couple of days to make it to land before I get dehydrated. The landmass is closer now and I can only hope that the current will carry me there. But now I don’t have a makeshift raft. I’m stuck unprotected in the middle of the ocean. I let my saddlebag go adrift; I should make myself as lightweight as possible.
The day drags on. The sun moves through the sky, closer to switching its place with the moon. I drift lazily in the current, relaxing my muscles after my earlier panic. My mind has nothing to do but to keep replaying the encounter with the sharks over and over. There was no logical reason for them to just leave when they were clearly on the verge of attacking me. What could I have done to drive them away? The idea that I can scare away three pony-eating sharks is laughable.
… But what if there was something that could?
My blood freezes a second time. No longer lazy and careless, my entire body is now tense and alert. I scan the surface of the water, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary. I dip my head below again looking for any sign of movement, but again, I don’t see anything strange.
But something is here with me, I know it.
So tired. So hungry. So thirsty. Not a single ship has passed by since the accident. At least I know for a fact now that the current is pushing me towards the landmass; it’s gotten much closer since yesterday. Please for the love of all that’s good in the world let it be the mainland, or at least someplace that’s civilized.
Ponyfeathers, the sun is so hot. My mouth is dry and thirsty. I’m tempted to take a gulp of seawater before I smack myself free of the idea. That’s the second smack after the point last night where I thought I heard something whisper in my ear. Is the delirium starting, or was something really there? I have so many unanswered questions piled up and I can’t say with any amount of conviction that I have any idea what any of the answers could be. The sharks haven’t come back, but I can’t muster the will to celebrate, not when every semblance of logic dictates I should be in their stomachs by now.
The day passes on. Eventually, I’m drained of nervous tension and boredom rears its ugly head. Two days I’ve been stuck out here. Shouldn’t it be called something else besides cabin fever when you’re outside with access to fresh air? I laugh at the thought. It’s a forced laugh, but I find a small amount of genuine pleasure in it. An idea strikes me and I gently skim the surface of the water, taking more delight in the simple action. I do it again. And again. Yeah, this is nice, fun, and relaxing. I dip my hoof below the surface and push it around, pretending like the sharks are back and circling me.
“Oh no, I’m going to be attacked! Ah, help! Help me! I don’t wanna be shark food! Oh dear! Oh my! Won’t someone please help me!?” Another laugh escapes me and I swirl my hoof around faster, this time deciding to put on a tough guy act. “You think you can eat me for lunch, you white-bellied loads of codswallop! I’ll beat the living daylights out of y’all and send you straight down to the abyss! One punch and I’ll… I’ll…”
My eyes catch onto something right in front of me about five or so ponylengths away: Two large spaces of white just barely visible through the water’s depth, hanging still beneath the surface. They must’ve been there for a couple of seconds before my mind’s eye took notice of it. Is it a trick of the light of some kind?
… A chill runs down the length of my spine. It’s not a trick of the light. The depth of field is clear. Changing my head’s position doesn’t distort them or make them disappear. Then I notice that the space around the white is pitch black in contrast to the dark blue of the ocean water. It’s perfectly rounded, not lacking a definable shape. My eyes catch onto two little pinpricks of black in the center of the white spaces and my breath catches in my throat.
It’s a creature. A creature staring right at me. A creature staring right at me with giant, unblinking eyes.
My body locks into place, subservient to the will of the tide. My heartbeat picks up and I swallow a growing lump in my throat. The creature doesn’t move or telegraph its intentions in any visible way. I’m half-tempted to stick my head below the surface of the water to get a better look at it, but resist for fear of how it might react. Is this the creature that scared away the sharks? Has it been following me all this time? What does it want? The icy grip of terror prevents me from pondering any of these questions in greater depth, keeping my attention fixated squarely on the thing in front of me.
Our gazes lock with each other for several minutes. Or, at least, it feels like that. It could’ve only been a few short moments for how terrified for my life I am. The creature starts to sink deeper out of sight, its eyes never leaving me. My head is swimming with questions and emotions and by the time I realize what’s happening the creature is out of sight. I hurriedly stick my head beneath the water’s surface, squinting my eyes trying to catch even a faint glimpse of the creature, but I spot nothing. I bring my head out of the water and release the breath I’d subconsciously been holding throughout the entire encounter.
Am I really going crazy now? Was that just my imagination? Whatever that thing was, it certainly doesn’t fit the description of any known creature in Equestria or beyond.
Something splashes behind me, making me cry in surprise. I spin my head around only to see nothing but the water a short distance away churned into foam. I could be totally off base, but whatever that thing was, I’m betting it wasn’t just a fish. My paranoia cycles through all sorts of menacing creatures that my mind can conjure up. But that train of thought is derailed when I feel a rush of water hit me in response to something streaking past me below the surface. I swivel my head around and stick my face below the water once again, intent on spying the creature that’s terrorizing me, but my efforts prove fruitless once again. I raise my head out of the water and wait silently for something else to happen. The seconds agonizingly tick by, each one feeling like a lifetime. I keep my body locked up, muscles still, and focus all my attention on the water around me. The ocean surface is still and I hear nothing splashing behind me. Several minutes pass, but nothing happens.
For one brief, radiant moment of time, my mind makes the mistake of clinging to hope. Hope that the danger, real or not, is passed. Hope that it will be smooth sailing from now until I reach land.
That hope shatters into a million tiny pieces when the creature rushes past me again. My brain is too awash with despair to make another attempt to spy the creature underwater.
It’s night again. The loving form of Luna’s moon shines brilliantly in the sky, but the sky itself has turned cloudy. The light keeps dimming as clouds pass overhead, each time bathing me in cold, oppressive darkness. Even with the occasional lack of moonlight, I can see the sanctuary of land looming before me less than a mile away.
But I’m not safe. The creature has been making regular rounds past me, getting gradually closer all the while. My heart is anchored by fear. I have no means of seeing what my tormentor is now in the dark of night. I can’t bring myself to scream, nor do I dare move a muscle. Even the hope that flares within me seeing the land growing bigger as I get closer is dashed every time the creature swims past. That hope starts turning to dread by the time the creature comes within touchable distance of my hooves.
A frightened squeal escapes my mouth when the clouds completely blank out the moon, leaving me in total darkness, the second time I’ve experienced this throughout this whole ordeal. I’m about a quarter of a mile from shore by now. The creature lightly brushes past my hoof this time and I cry out at the slimy texture of its skin. My heartbeat kicks into overdrive. Every fiber of my being wants to make a mad swim towards shore, to escape certain doom, but I can’t muster the force of will to make my body move. The thing will surely catch me before I can even make it halfway.
I’m going to die.
That single thought dominates my mind as the seconds tick by. The nighttime air becomes thick with tension as I wait for the creature to make its final move to end my life. A large splash directly in front of me grabs my attention. I can feel it. The creature is charging towards me. Rows upon rows of sharp, serrated teeth await their next victim. Hungry, predatory eyes lock onto my body, excited to make me dinner. I close my own eyes and let loose the loudest, ear-piercing wail I’ve ever had. I wait for the feeling of being bitten into, of being dragged underwater and torn apart, of the life being drained from me as the creature takes to swallowing me bit by bit, savoring its meal. I wait and wait and wait, my lungs eventually running out of air, leaving my breaths ragged.
Nothing has happened.
I wait several more seconds before I muster the courage to open my eyes. The clouds have parted, allowing the moon to shine once more, bathing the ocean surface in its comforting rays. The water is still save for its natural pull and flow. Nothing swims past me beneath the surface. I swivel my head all around, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary, but there’s nothing to see except endless ocean and the ever-approaching landmass. I’m close enough now that I can make out what looks like wooden steps set between a couple of sand dunes.
Am I really safe now? Truly? A surge of joy washes over me and I smile broadly. I’m safe… I’M SAFE! A hearty chuckle escapes from my mouth that quickly evolves into full-blown maniacal laughter. After three days of endless uncertainty, misery and fear, I’m finally home free. Caution is thrown to the wind and I begin furiously paddling my way toward shore. Whereas before my heart raced with fear and tension, now it races with excitement. I’ll be back to civilization before long, chomping on hayburgers and fries! Sweet mother of Celestia, am I famished.
My excitement is eviscerated, replaced with confusion when my hind leg kicks down only to strike something just below the surface. Frowning, I glance down but can’t see anything even this close. I give the unseen object another, experimental kick. It’s… soft. Yet firm. Realization strikes and every fiber of my being curls into a ball and croaks out. The thing below me isn’t a rock, nor a sandbar, or anything of the sort.
It’s a creature.
I’m given no time to collect my feelings before I feel the enigmatic thing push me upward. The water parts around me and I find myself rising into the air on my barrel as the thing lifts itself out of the water. Two ponylengths. Four ponylengths. Six. Eight. Ten! Fifteen! The ice-cold grip of terror grabs me. I lay motionless atop the thing, breathless, locking all my muscles into place again except for my forelegs which I instinctively throw over my eyes.
Finally, the creature stops its ascent. Over and over, I silently pray for the creature not to take notice of my presence. I feel it shift from side to side underneath me before it holds its position. Time passes agonizingly slowly. No sound emanates from the creature. The only sounds audible to my ears are the waves lapping against its enormous body far, far below. It shifts again, then moves forward, making audibly sizable waves with its incredible size. The tension in the air is oppressive.
The creature begins its descent back beneath the waves slowly, but surely. I feel the water rush around me after a short while and the current generated from the creature’s movements is enough to pull me under slightly before my life vest pulls me back to the surface. I break the water with a sharp gasp, letting precious air fill my lungs. My breathing normalizes over a short time, but my body remains locked in place.
I won’t move a muscle. The tide continues gradually pushing me toward shore. My mind goes blank, too exhausted from the events of my ordeal to form much in the way of coherent thoughts anymore. The moon falls across the sky and the clouds eventually disappear. The sound of waves crashing against the shore eventually reaches my ears, bringing me back to reality, but I can’t bring myself to glance up. Not until I feel sand beneath myself do I move my body.
I plant all four of my hooves solidly into the wet sand and hoist myself up. I trudge slowly up the beach, gaze down and thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. I stop about halfway up the beach and fall on my rump. It’s hard to believe it’s all over. Nearly three days at sea and I’m all right. Was I really crazy? Or was all that stuff real? Not that it matters now.
I stay there for Celestia-knows-how-long, lost in idle thoughts before I find the will to stand back up and start trudging up the beach again. I get about halfway before I glance back at the water out of a mixture of nostalgia and curiosity. Being back on land should bring me nothing but relief after my harrowing experience. The feeling of sand under my hooves should have me kissing the ground I walk upon. All the feelings of torment, fear, and especially uncertainty should be gone.
Giant white eyes, set within a rounded, pitch-black form that contrasts heavily with the moonlit oceanscape, stare back at me from the water.
I can’t run. I can’t scream. I’m too spiritually drained from my ordeal to do anything other than letting my jaw drop and eyes bulge. There’s not one, not two, but three of the creatures watching me fifty or so yards from shore. They tower high into the air like giant, living monuments. Their stares are dead, devoid of emotion, but I know they’re looking right at me. Chills run down my spine. My stomach is restless. The creatures do nothing, standing frozen still in the water as it breaks around their massive bodies.
I close my eyes for a few short moments while I work to calm myself down. When I open them again, the creatures have vanished. The water’s surface is calm in the moonlight, nothing to indicate they sank beneath so fast. I breathe a deep, relaxing sigh before the questions start piling up again. I’m going to purge this all from my mind as soon as possible.
All that matters is getting home.