I picked up a shell, swirled and conical, and examined it for a moment before tossing it into the surf and walking on along the beach. The ocean often turned up these treasures for our amazement, but in its depths it held old and dangerous secrets. It has been long since anybody has ventured to cross the great water, and people rarely even ventured further than the fishing waters. There was a fishing boat perched on the horizon as I walked the beach and it turned toward home as I watched. The tall triangular sails turned shades of orange and pink as the sun set and I picked up my pace to race the boat to the marina.

On arrival, I observed two men, one on the bow, one aft, toss ropes to catch the horns of the boat cleats as they pulled up. They pulled the vessel tight to the dock and began to unload their catch of the day. The odor of fish assaulted my senses as I approached and spoke to the dock master.

“I’d like to sign on a ship,” I said.

“Got one leaving port tomorrow morning,” he replied, “if you are free enough to leave that soon.”

“I’ll be here in the morning,”

We cast off early, before the dew was burned from the grass, and I stood upon the bow to watch the water as we cut through the waves. Not long after, I leaned over the rail and made an offering to the ocean’s Gods. The first mate came behind me and slapped me on the back as consolation and leaned over the side with me as the little fish picked at my sick.

As we watched, a great leviathan of the sea rose up and took in all of the little fish at one gulp before disappearing back into the deep. My knuckles turned white on the railing and I puked again into the water. The first mate chuckled and turned to resume his duties as I kept leaning on the rail.

Never again.

Never will I venture out into the sea again. There are monsters out there.