Ashlyn VanRy

Second Place: Fiction

“Be Wary of the Deep” 
by Ashlyn VanRy  
12th grade, Morristown High School

—

The pressure was immense this deep underwater. Dr. Albricht watched as a tiny jellyfish smeared itself against the submarine’s front window. Sadly, it was already documented, and not nearly as ugly as he needed. But he was close—he could feel it in his bones—soon he would find the worst beast ever.

He’d dropped millions on this project, this Neo-Bone War, all to spite his detested colleague Dr. Morsch. Throughout college and graduate school, all the way up to when they were awarded their doctorates, the two had beefed. Their respective spouses—both incredibly successful doctors as well (Dr. Albricht’s wife, an award-winning neurosurgeon, and Dr. Morsch’s spouse, the leading authority on toxicology)—had taken to live-streaming the debates and dishing out the “tea,” as they called it, having known each other since childhood. Something that had come in handy for fundraising.

The submarine caught a flash of movement. That was it! The creature he sought! It was—! It was . . . !

Oh god.

~~~~

Dr. Morsch watched from the safety of his boat as the EX-p1_000R ver. 3.0 (specially equipped for deep-sea exploration) coasted soundlessly across the ocean bottom. His phone pinged with a text from his spouse. He flicked his eyes away from the screen to respond. 

Beloved ♡
Guess who’s at the bottom right now.

No. No way.

Beloved ♡
Yes. Good luck Dr ;) ILY

ILY 2 😊 

The monitor started beeping. The EX-p1_000R had found something. Dr. Morsch hurried to pull up the analytics. What the EX-p1_000R found was small . . . no, large? . . . results inconclusive. It had eyes. No wait, it didn’t? No . . . it had hundreds . . . results inconclusive. Infrared revealed it was pitch black like oil . . . or was it red? Its fins were webbed, no they were tentacles, no it undulated through the water. Teeth—were there teeth? The EX-p1_000R couldn’t get a good angle. Its roots tethered it to the seafloor. Dr. Morsch grew more confused with every contradictory reading. Maybe the EX-p1_000R couldn’t handle the pressure this deep after all. He remembered the camera EX-p1_000R was outfitted with. He had to see what was going on for himself.

Booting up the software took only moments. He gazed eagerly at the screen as the creature came into view. It was perfect! It was horrible, it was an amazing scientific advancement, it was . . . it was . . . oh.

Results inconclusive.

~~~~

Dr. Albricht felt his limbs freezing up. The beast was eyeing him with disinterest . . . if that was even its eye at all. It undulated—not the beast, the eye—and flexed like a melting camera lens. He couldn’t tell how big it was, for its form became lost in the gloom. He wondered for a moment if it was even real. Was he even real? Dr. Albricht could not look away from its eye . . . eyes? Compounded like a fly or an angel.

His hands twitched on the controls. Maybe his oxygen was low. No, no, the sensor blinked green in his peripheral. He still could not look away. His hands were cold. The beast moved, and he knew its Name. His lips could not form the words and his eyes began to burn. He should not have seen this. He should not have sought this. It was his greatest achievement. It was his last achievement. Its skin rippled with colors and stars and reality folding in on itself. He saw the beginning of time.

He saw the beginning of the beast. Its mouth was not what a mouth should be. A lone gulper eel—blessed to be blind in the darkness—floated into its gaping maw. Dr. Albricht watched as the beast turned the eel inside out and devoured its screams. He had to leave. He had to keep watching.

~~~~

Dr. Morsch awoke in a cold sweat. His spouse was at a conference, meaning he was as alone as he was at sea. The sea . . . It had been months since that day when he had seen the beast. Months since Dr. Albricht had resurfaced, just after he’d returned to port, and surrendered him the win. Deep in his soul, Dr. Morsch knew he’d seen it too.

He had named it Ludacris Albrichtus. When he’d tried to boast of his findings, Dr. Albricht had just . . . looked at him . . . eyes empty, yet undulating and flexing like a melting camera lens. Dr. Morsch had hesitated, lightly nudged his shoulder, just hoping to get a reaction from his sworn enemy.

“That’s not its Name,” the man had finally muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s not its Name.”

Now once again, he’d been awoken by dreams of folded shadow. He sat in the dark, trying to control his breathing. A noise in the dark made him freeze. He cautiously looked across his room and nearly jumped out of his skin. Dr. Albricht was standing against the far wall, eyeing him, unblinking. The man’s hands had sharpened and hardened with necrosis, and he was soaked to the bone. He stank of salt and rot, like a Whale Fall half-devoured. He dripped brine upon Dr. Morsch’s carpet.

Dr. Morsch forced himself to speak, “What—why are you here?”

“That’s not its Name.” Dr. Albricht’s voice was rough, like he’d been gargling saltwater for a month.

“What?”

“That’s not its Name.”

Dr. Morsch clenched his sheets in his fist, “Well what’s its name then?!”

He thought he saw a ghost of a smile cross Albricht’s face. “That’s not its Name.”

“Tell me!” Dr. Morsch was getting desperate for something he couldn’t name.

“Its Name . . .”

“TELL!”

“Its Name is “

And suddenly he was gone. Dr. Morsch reached up to his ears. His fingers came away wet with blood. He was so very scared. He was so very confused. He knew Dr. Albricht had met it too. He hoped he wouldn’t end up like that. He’d only seen the beast through a screen (his eyes were starting to melt). He needed to go back out there, to know for certain—

Results inconclusive.