It Stared Back

Captain John Haus sat at the front of the submarine; gripping the controls as if his life

depended on it. The ocean seemed to stretch endlessly outside the window. What had once been 

a canvas of relaxing blues now became a desolate void, a vast expanse of darkness that seemed 

to swallow the vessel whole as it descended further and further. The pressure outside kept 

mounting with each passing moment. Its oppressive weight bore down on all sides of the 

submarine with what seemed like an invisible force. John’s nerves were on high alert. He could 

hear every creak and groan of the hull echoing through the confined space. He couldn't shake the 

feeling of unease off his mind. It continued to gnaw on the edge of his consciousness. His 

instincts screamed at him, warning him of the dangers lurking below.

The crackle of the radio broke the silence, startling John from his reverie. “Hey John,

you’re doing great so far. You’re almost at the nine-kilometer mark. Hang tight,” reassured a

voice over the static-filled line.

The radio went silent, casting John into solitude once again. As his unease grew, he

glanced around the interior of the submarine. He noticed the rust, which seemed to be spread 

throughout the ship. The rust only served as a reminder of its age and decay. Abruptly, the radio

hissed to life once more, pulling him back to the present moment.

“You hit the nine-kilometer mark. How’s the hull, John?” A voice crackled through the

speakers, breaking the silence.

“The hull's feeling it, Doc, but it’s still holding strong,” John replied, keeping his voice

steady despite the tension twisting in the pit of his stomach.

“Okay, good. Now I need you to close the blast shields.”

“Wait, why?”

“The window can only withstand so much pressure before it breaks. The blast shields

make sure you don’t drown.”

“But Doc, how am I gonna see where the hell I’m going?”

“There’s a camera mounted outside. You can access it in your ship.”

Reluctantly, John complied, reaching across the navigation panel to press a button. As he

held it, the blast shields gradually crept up the front window, emitting a painful screech as metal

scraped against metal. John winced at the sound. It was just another reminder of the crude

fashion the ship was built in. One last bang, and the shielding was fully closed. With the front

window sealed shut, John had no visuals to work with, except for an old video camera mounted

on the front of the ship. Even then, the feed from the camera went static every few seconds. He

wished he had a clear view of outside, but he knew he had no choice. Without the blast shields,

the pressure outside would crush him with no remorse.

“Okay John, this next step is important, you got that?” The doctor said.

“I’m listening,” John answered.

“Great. The sub uses as minimal power use as possible. Most of the power goes to the

engines already. The rest either goes to the cameras or to the radio. Both can’t be used at the

same time, okay John?”

“What do you mean they can’t be used at the same time?”

“Using both at the same time would drain the power. You’d be left with nothing.”

“You’re kidding me. The hells up with this cheap sub you got me in?”

“Trust me, I tried asking for more. My sponsors refused to bargain. I was still able to get

enough to make a sub that works.”

“You need better sponsors, Doc. Anything else before I go silent?”

“Yes. Turn the mic back on only if you need to resurface or you have an emergency.

Unlikely you will, though.”

“Got it. Signing off.”

John reached over the front panel and turned off the radio. Well, that’s it then I guess, he

thought to himself. With a heavy sigh, he slouched down into his chair, resigning himself back to

his isolation. He was all alone, cast into the depths of the ocean, sealed in a steel coffin thousands

of miles from civilization. John couldn't help but feel a sense of isolation that bordered on the

line of existential dread. The only sounds that accompanied him were the creaks and groans of

the hull under immense stress, sounds which kept reminding John of the miserable environment

in which he found himself in.

In a matter of moments, the submarine reached the bottom of the sea, coming to a stop

just short of the ocean floor. The navigation panel, which sat right in front of John, started to spit

out a message. As it did so, it casted an eerie green glow from its screen. John glanced at the

panel as his mission parameters came into focus. He read the task displayed on the screen:

navigate the ship across the seabed and map the surroundings. It was a task that seemed simple

enough to John, but his instincts told him otherwise.

As the dim glow of the navigation panel cast long shadows across the cramped cockpit,

John’s sense of unease only grew. Despite his instincts screaming at him to turn back the way he

came, John was determined to see his mission through to the end.

I can do this, he thought to himself, trying to push aside the fear twisting his gut. I have

to. Getting it done means I can cover Allie’s medical bills.

John, determined to finish his mission as quickly as possible, grasped the rightmost

joystick in front of him and pushed it forward. The engine, in return, hummed to life. Following

the engine, the submarine’s propellers gradually spun faster and faster, propelling the ship

forward into the void.

The tension only kept growing as he guided the submarine into the darkness. John

grabbed a hold of his stopwatch and glanced at the timer, noting it had been an hour since his

mission began. A sense of unease began settling over John again, like a suffocating shroud.

It was then that he heard something: something audible over the hum of the machinery.

Something was moving, something outside the submarine.

“What the hell was that?” John muttered to himself, his heart pounding in his chest as he

hurried over to the video feed. But as he checked the footage, he saw nothing but the barren

expanse of the ocean floor.

John, in order to escape his paranoia, came up with excuse after excuse to explain the

sound he heard. He finally came up with a reason. It was probably just the ship acting up again,

he thought. He dismissed it and went back to work.

It wasn’t long after when he heard it again. But this time, it seemed closer than before. He

kept making more and more excuses. But deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn’t

alone, that something was hiding just beyond the reach of his senses.

An alert from the navigation panel jolted John from his reverie. The submarine’s oxygen

meter flashed, demanding his attention. His heart sank as he read the message: the submarine’s

oxygen levels were dangerously low. He needed to resurface as soon as possible.

But before he could act, something struck the side of the vessel, throwing John back

against the wall. The violent force rendered John out of breath. Desperation clawed at John's

chest as he fought to catch his breath. The strike seemed to leave John in a better condition

compared to the sub. The lights flashed and the alarm blared. He managed to scurry towards the

navigation panel and turn on the radio, his hands shaking as he attempted to contact the doctor.

“Doc, can you hear me!” John called out.

“John? What’s going on? Are you okay?” The doctor questioned.

“Something just crashed into me! The controls are all off! I need to get back to the

surface now! Please, do something!” The doctor didn’t respond to his call at first. “Come on,

help!” John cried out.

“Okay,” the doctor responded. “Here’s what I need you to do...”

“... There should be an option on your panel to view the damage report. Click it and tell

me what it says.”

“Okay... it says the power was severed to the control system.” John read aloud.

“Good. Means it’s fixable. I need you to head to the back of the ship towards the

engines.”

The alarm echoed through the metallic hull, sparks flying, as John got up from the floor

and scurried over to the reactor.

“Okay, I’m there! What now?”

“You should see a large red tube. It’s the wire to the backup engine. Is it plugged into

anything?”

“I see it. It’s not plugged in!”

“Plug it into the socket. You’ll redirect some back-up power back to the control systems.”

John grabbed the heavy wire and plugged it into the socket. After doing so, he rushed

towards the control panel. The control panel showed that power was restored.

“It worked, Doc!” John shouted.

“Great. Now make sure to check the feed,” the doctor ordered. “Make sure the ship’s not

in danger before you head back up.”

John turned the feed back on. He expected to see nothing but the barren expanse of the

ocean floor. His breath, however, was caught in his throat as he beheld a sight that filled him

with existential dread.

As John stared at the darkness, all he saw was the distorted face of the creature, its

malevolent gaze filled with an intelligence which bested his own. It wasn’t just looking at the

vessel. It was staring at John himself, straight into his soul. It knew he was inside. John’s blood

ran cold, and his knees buckled from the realization that he wasn’t, in fact, alone. Something was

stalking him this entire time. He could do nothing but crawl back and stare at the monitor in

dread. Those unrecognizable shapes, swirling in the darkness, distorted and grotesque, their

movements defying all logic and reason, would never leave John’s mind. The deep hum grew

louder, their otherworldly quality filling the cramped confines of the submarine with a sense of

hopelessness that was almost palpable.

His migraine came back in full force. The information of what he witnessed was too

much for him, leaking through the cracks in his brain, and John could feel his mind losing

control. “No! Please! Please not now!” He begged. He realized he was now at the mercy of

whatever lurked in the darkness outside.

As the pressure kept mounting in his mind, John felt powerless. All he could do now was

brace himself for the inevitable. The last thing he saw before everything went dark was the face

of the creature, one which left John to his demise.

The video feed went static, the screen flickering with interference as the doctor turned off

the monitor. His colleague sat nearby, his face pale and his hands trembling as he tried to process

what they’ve just witnessed.

“What even is that thing?” the colleague asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The doctor’s expression was unreadable as he stared at the blank screen. “I'm not quite

sure,” he said quietly. “But one thing’s for certain: we need more data.”

“More data?” the colleague asked, his disbelief evident in his tone.

“Yes, more data,” the doctor said, his voice filled with a sense of grim determination.

“The ocean has revealed its secrets to us, secrets that need to be understood. And now it is in our

duty to find the truth. Until we fully understand what we're exactly dealing with, there will be

more accidents we’ll deal with. It's a price we must pay.”

“But...haven't enough people died already?” the colleague protested, his voice trembling

with fear. “How many more innocents have to be sacrificed? At this point, we’re just feeding the

damn thing!”

The doctor paused, before turning slowly towards his colleague, his face baring a

malicious smirk. “That’s the point.”