Crimson Oceans: Navigating the Blood Red Seas
The wind was salty and slapped my nose as I stood with my arms folded on the railing of Sea Serpent, a half-rotten fishing boat. This day was set, and the sun was slowly setting and giving the sky this color of burnt orange and deep purple. But it wasn’t the sunset I was focusing on; it was the water of a brick hue and threatening to rise up against the boat.
I pointed ahead as I said quietly, “Look at that.” “It’s like blood.”
"Yeah, it is strange,” answered my crewmate Sam; he looked surprised and a hint of scared by the machines. “I am very impressed; I’ve never observed such features before.”
“Me neither. You think it’s safe?” I said this partly because I was just trying to lighten the mood, though deep inside me I was feeling the same.
He looked away at the sea quickly. “Safe? Out here? I think there’s no such thing as using the word'safe’ without a shade of relativity to it.”
I laughed, but it fell flat. We must hope that this year we will not come across the same situation as the fishermen did last year.
“Don’t remind me,” Sam complained, pulling his hands into the pockets of his windbreaker. They found their boat, but no one was there. Just gone.”
A shiver crawled up my spine. There were enough murmurings in the small fishing village to freeze the blood of any avid listener. It was the *Crimson Oceans* they said it was, a sea that was expected to be paid for. I had disregarded all the stories as just fables, but now, being on the shore of the bloody red sea, I started to.
“Hey, look!” Sam exclaimed, pointing. “Over there!”
I squinted. “What is it?”
"Something's floating.”
Baleen, it was alfloat in the waters, floating softly—a formidable dark mass against the scarlet depths of the sea. I could feel my pulse rising as I took the binoculars from where they were kept on the dash. “It looks like...”
“What?” Sam pressed, edging closer.
“An oar,” I replied weakly. "And... I suppose there is something attached to it.”
He took the binoculars from my hands. “Let me see. Yeah, it’s definitely something that entails it. Should we check it out?”
“Are you crazy? It could be a trap.”
“Or it could be a clue. It is impossible to turn our backs on it,” he said, arguing and getting clearly animated.
I weighed my options. The desire to find something unknown rose against the desire to retreat. I just rolled my eyes, knowing that there is no way I am going to win against Sam’s energetic enthusiasm. “Fine. But we stay vigilant.”
Sam cheered, and I loved seeing him act like a little boy again. “Let’s do this!”
When I rowed nearer, the stench was overwhelming—the unmistakable smell of rotting corpses. “God, what is that?” I vomited into my hand and quickly, hastily grabbed the sleeve of my jacket to have my mouth covered.
“People thought there was something wrong with me when I never came back either,” Tom giggled at their efforts to unravel the bundle. “Can you make it out?”
“Not yet,” I said, the nausea rising into my throat. “Just… get closer.”
We floated nearby, and with the tip of a long stick, I stirred the heaping mass in the water. “It is not going anywhere,” I said as I proceeded to jerk the rod upwards.
Suddenly, the bundle moved, and with a gasp, I stepped back—I nearly fell over the little nurse. “Whoa!” I gasped, heart racing.
“Careful!” Sam warned, eyes wide.
"Just give me a second,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “I’ve got it.”
I had a sickening feeling in my stomach as I reached out to the bundle and drew it closer to me. The material was black, saturated, and worn out. “What the hell is this?” I said it quietly, pulling it apart as neatly as I could.
A moment later, I froze. “Oh no. Oh no, no, no.”
“What is it?” Sam moved across the bar and glared into her face.
“It’s a jacket,” said I, my voice cracking. “A fisherman’s jacket.”
“Do you remember it?” he continued asking, his voice no longer full of passion that just used to accompany his words.
I shook my head, but a sick feeling was churning in my stomach. “I can’t tell. But it’s drenched.” I raised it up to check out the seam and had barely looked inside when a solid object slammed into the side of the vessel.
“Did you hear that?” Sam’s voice, however, was little over a mere whisper.
“What?” I glanced over the edge. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“Listen!” he said sternly with eyes shifted towards the water.
A gentle, wet splutter arose as the man then produced a low, mournful groan.
“What the—” I began saying, but Sam interrupted me.
“Get the oars! We need to get out of here!”
I fumbled, breaths ragged, and my hands trembling as I picked up the oars. “I can’t just leave! It reminded us, “We need to know what is going on!”
“Are you out of your mind? Great, we are not waiting around to see if whatever that is comes back into our lives!
They groaned louder, the voices rebounding off water, a symphony of suffering that drew a chill on my spine. “Okay, okay! Just help me!”
We paddled desperately, red water spraying the sides of the boat, and I turned around, wondering if something would come up from beneath. It was humming louder, and ice ran through the spine.
“We have to go faster!” Sam shouted, though there was anxiety creeping in his tone.
“I’m trying!” I growled and proceeded to pull in the oars to move the boat forward. One of the young people says, "I mean, it really feels as if the ocean is trying to drag us back!”
“Rowing is like life. You just don’t look back, and you keep rowing.”
Though my limbs operated independently, my mind shrieked at me to turn around and look at the back. The low groans rose into a sickeningly false laugh, which hissed loudly through the night. It was taunting, mocking us.
“Did you hear that?” I yelled, barely able to maintain eye contact with the beach anymore.
“Yeah! Just row!” Sam raised his voice, the sound of which was hoarse.
We worked even more actively, the coastline becoming nearer, but the laughter arose again, and I could not turn my head back.
The water splashed, red as if the water was hot as a furnace, and then I saw something—a woman heaving out of the water, her hair as if she came from the sea, her eyes black as coal.
“Go! Go!” I shrieked because right in the middle of my rib cage, something that could easily pass for electricity moved up and down my body.
So with the last remained strength, we pulled towards the shore, the boat touching the shallow water and bottom. I got up and dragged Sam with me.
“Run!” I shouted and tripped out into the sand on the beach.
We ran that upward along the shoreline on the opposite side of the creek, panting and possessed, in need of a safe place to hide. What was left of the laughter evaporated into the atmosphere, much like the aftereffects of a bad dream.
“Did you see that?” Sam scrunched her lips and fell on the sand, placing her hands on her chest.
“Yeah,” I managed to say after I had some trouble catching my breath. “What the hell was that?”
“I don’t know. But we have to tell someone,” he said, looking back toward the water for a moment.
“Who? The locals? They’ll think we’re crazy!”
“Better crazy than dead!” he exclaimed, getting off the bed hastily. “This is no longer a story.”
As I looked at the *Sea Serpent* again in the distance, becoming indistinct against the approaching night, I felt a new pressure in my breast—a sense of failure, of helplessness. “We need to warn them. I am really concerned that nobody else can be taken by the ‘Crimson Oceans’.
We hurried back to town with adrenaline rushing through our veins and desperately pounding against our feet. When we moved closer to the houses, the light from within resembled candles that are being used at night; the shadows were projected right on the floor.
“Knock on that door!” That’s why I indicated a small house with fading paint on the walls, I said.
‘Well, what if they do not trust the information?” Sam asked, hesitating.
“We will then look for another person who will,” I concluded, banging the fist on the wooden door.
A moment later, an elderly woman opened it and looked at the screen with her furrowed face, which is full of wrinkles. “What’s wrong?” she asked, moreso shifting her gaze between the two of us.
They shouted at each other, “There’s something in the water!” I blurted. “A figure, a... a creature! It’s taken people before!”
She stiffened her face and looked back into her home again. “You boys are just telling stories.”
“No! It’s real! We saw it!” Sam begged, moving towards the door.
“Enough!” she exclaimed, rather annoyed this time. They said, ‘You are making new troubles; you are disturbing old ghosts.’ Sure, that is, go home so that you do not attract the wrong type of people.
“Please!” I pleaded, driven by frightened rage that was chocking me to my very core. “You have to listen!”
However, as the door started shutting, one moment I felt like punching the wall in anger. “What if it’s too late? What if we’re next?”
The door stopped, and the woman looked at him somehow less menacingly. That surely means you have to be ready for the battle."The sea keeps her secret well hidden from the world.”
She looked at me, and I simply looked back, meeting her gaze and giving a quick nod. “Then we’ll fight.”
This was the last thing I heard before the door quietly shutting; the joviality hammered into the back of my mind. We were only two fishermen in a town where people seemed to have forgotten how important their history was, yet we wanted the truth.
