#thallassal horror

[freezing-kaiju]

Will you send your sea angels?

Biotober prompt 11: Abyssal

warnings: body horror, brief mention of self-mutilation, religion, thallassal horror, transhumanism or perhaps dehumanization.

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It’s as clear as the day is long; I don’t belong down here.

 I found out that the second sub was gone today, it’s long since been gone, and I can’t launch it alone anyway. The stuff I found...Jenkins’s watch, Rhys’s horrible little brand of hairgel, Schumacher’s chair, right where everyone leaves everything. Their spare stashes of underwear, too; not much fits, but I’ve made do.

There will be energy still; generators bolted to the vents, gaining and maintaining power for so long as they keep running. Desalination plants, that give me water enough to bathe in and drink, all without my maintenance. I can adjust them, I can make demands, but...

I sit on my heels and I pray for rescue.

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I sit on my heels as I pray for rescue. I’m getting paler every day; when they haul me up I’ll probably burst into flames from the sun. Swear I can see my veins sometimes. It feels like there’s people out there sometimes. Wish I could just slap on a wetsuit and head out there, but the pressure wouldn’t do me any favors. I’m staying active instead, running sprints, trying to remember what stretches help. Calisthenics, right? Is that what it’s called? Keeping my everything in… in shape. The protein powder’ll help too! Maybe Chase’ll think it’s sick when I show up just completely roided up. Mr. Mechanic, I need to get jacked. Hulk Hogan type body.

Good lord, I’ll never get American Made out of my head now…

Maybe I should try writing my own.

What was that Sherlock Holmes thing, learning new things that aren’t essential shoves old things out of the mind? I forgot my phone number today. Finally remembered which doors lead to the chemical storage straight from my room, though, so that has to be connected. 

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I sit as I heal and I pray for rescue. No fat to make soap; I've cut off all I care to of my own. The water will do. It’s done enough, it’ll do more, but somehow it got a little sweet. It’s enough. My food’s getting low enough to carry all together, the sixth month has to be up sooner than later. That’s good though! As long as I ration it properly, I can make it two more months.  Exercise’s paying off; I found a spare propeller in one of the crawlspaces earlier and, wouldn’t you know, it’s light enough to use as a baton! I...do need to be careful, though. Scarred the ceiling a couple times. If enough damage happens, the air’ll all get out, and the facility’ll become one big water damage souffle. All the salt’ll kill my plants too.

Humans go insane without plants, so really, I’m lucky I’m alone here. Rhys’d kill the whole crop and put his head through the window by the end of week 1. 

-- 

I sit and this heals and I pray for rescue. I tried drinking the hair gel and, honestly, it helped. I feel crisper. Sleeker! Like a cat. I can get a cat someday, can’t I? It kind of feels like there’s some of them outside. I swear I can hear coyotes out there sometimes, yowling in groups of three that prance around the station. Sometimes, I can see them. But I can cover the portholes and keep them away. It’s not like any light’s getting through anyway. 

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I sit, and I heel, and I prey for rescue.

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And I pray, and prey, and pray, and prey, because God will feed me soon. My family will come and feed me soon. I can almost see them out there, in a tin can just like my own, reaching out for me. I wish I knew what it’ll look like. I should greet them. I should swim out and greet them. 

Fuck, I wish I could swim out. When they pull me out of this, I’ll have to go through decompression, and...hell, I’ll be grateful. The pressure down here gets so bad I can barely walk anymore. That’s why nobody’s found me, it has to be, I’m just so close to the earth’s core that gravity’s pulling me down. It’s useful for praying, though. My legs don’t get numb anymore. 

Is god feeding me?

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I... I looked in the mirror today. I...

My eyes are gone.

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I’m still human, aren’t I? I....

Something happened to me. Something...happened...to me, but.

But I tried it out. It’s been forever since I spoke to someone else but I can still sing my prayers. So I tried it. Went...went back to a mirror and looked at.

Myself. 

I can still speak.

Hey, how are you, my name is Janet, I’m a human being, just like you. I was left here. Something happened to me. I’m doing alright but I’d like to try...a cupcake. Some apples. Anything edible that wasn’t meat. I... these teeth, the teeth I have left are-- no, looking closely, my molars are still there, it’s just that the front ones got...longer... I. Those....weren’t my hands, though. 

I... I don’t think I want to look in the mirror anymore.

But if I can speak! I can shout, even, I can still manage a great big HIIII HELLOOOO NICE TO SEE YOUUU that echoes through the whole station! So they won’t shoot me! I’ll just...stay a bit away from the front door, and greet them, and ask that they don’t shoot me, and say my name and maybe some identifying characteristics. Like...like cheating at the mile run in the third grade and crying to my parents about it. 

If they do bring guns... I don’t think I can run anymore.

So...so, I kneel, and pray, that they’ll bring me home.