Have you ever wondered: would you rather fall out of a plane or be stranded in the middle of the ocean?

For me, there’s never been a question of my choice. I would rather willingly jump out of a plane knowing I’m facing certain death than be stranded in the middle of the sea.

And yet.

I fell drunkenly off the ship I was working on in the middle of the night. I doubt anyone heard me fall over. Or my call for help. The storm had been pretty rough last night.

But here I was now, boiling in the blazing sun and the warm sea. My legs kicking feebly just to keep myself afloat.

I knew I was an inconceivable distance from land. Even if I wanted to start swimming the exhaustion, dehydration, or fatigue would get me before I even made a dent in the distance I’d need to travel. No. The only option now was just to wait. There would surely be another working vessel coming through these waters.

I’ve never been afraid of being on ships but I’ve been on the internet long enough to have a healthy trepidation of deep water. The unknown lurking beneath the waves. Protected by the depth of the sea and the isolation from land.

But there’s nothing in the water.

Except fish of course. Single cell organisms. Whales.

Sharks.

There’s definitely something in the water but looking down all I can see is the vast dark shadow of the unfathomably deep sea.

There’s nothing that will immediately hurt me in the water.

That’s not necessarily true. I’m sure there’s some animal that will decide I look tasty enough, but if it does come to that then hopefully I’ll be dead for that part.

I feel a current move underneath my feet.

There’s something under me in the water.

It’s probably just a school of fish, a larger sea creature, a rogue current. Who knows. But nothing I can see so I afford myself that small comfort.

Then I see the fins. Maybe fifty feet away from me a pair of large grey fins approaching. A shark. A big one at that. Easily ten feet if not longer. Approaching leisurely, like a child that’s just “happened” upon a table full of cookies.

The fins speed up and I feel that current again. Stronger this time. The shark turns so quickly I can barely process it and it starts swimming away probably as fast as it can move. My relief is short lived as it dawns on me.

The shark was afraid.

There is something dangerous beneath me in the water.

I look down and I see the shadow of the sea. Is it…bigger? That’s absurd, it absolutely can’t be. But it certainly feels like it. It yawns at me. Inviting. Like a large dark blanket that will wrap me up and tuck me to a long peace beneath the waves.

I kick again lazily and close my eyes and let the sun hit my face and I sink beneath the waves for just a moment. Just to rest.

Something pulls at my feet and my eyes shoot open.

There is something in the water.

And it has me.

I kick and struggle but whatever has me is immeasurably strong. I may as well be tied to a mountain. My lungs are beginning to scream and I let out whatever is left in my lungs and the thing that has my legs pulls me down.

The sea grows darker still and the pressure mounts as my lungs fill with saltwater. I’m going to die. And no one will ever know what happened to me.

Whatever is holding on to my leg let’s go suddenly. I open my eyes to the sting of the salt water and look down. Whatever had me is struggling just as I was. What I had taken as just the depths is a twisting squirming mass. Being pulled down by something, but I’m not going to find out what.

I kick and kick with the last of my strength and look up.

Just as I lose consciousness I look up and see a mass above me. A boat.

Safety.

I break the surface, choke, and slip into nothingness.

—

I was dead for three minutes apparently. The doctors say I’ll make a full recovery. I’m grateful for their help but more than anything I’m grateful that I can make the choice of never going into the ocean ever again.

Because there is something in the water.

And it let me go.

Because something bigger got to it.