Echoes from Below

[June 2021. At the extreme depths of the Marina Trench, we detected a set of anomalies frequency. Initially thought to be the seismic vibration caused by whales, spectral analysis shows a structured pattern consistent with a type of language.]

[January 2022. All decoding attempts failed. Researcher Daniel Lynch experienced an acute psychotic break while monitoring the signals. He pierced his eardrums with a pen. Before he died, he kept yelling, "They're hungry! They're hungry!"]

[March 2023. It's confirmed. The signal source isn't technological. It's biological. An ancient, colossal organism that feeds on bioelectric signals, which humans perceive as emotion.

[We named it God of the Seas, or more accurately, the Abyssal Maw.]

My hands and feet turned cold.

It feeds on emotions? Then, why did it need to go through a radio app?

The final block of text answered my question.

[Modern wireless signals are the perfect bait. It has learned to camouflage itself, taking advantage of humanity's curiosity, and embedding its call within music. The moment you listen, you establish a link. Through that link, it slowly erodes your consciousness, alters your flesh, and ultimately, it guides you willingly into the deep sea, where you will become its nourishment.]

I threw my phone away.

So, that was the so-called Deep Sea-fication? Was I becoming its takeaway dinner?

Ding!

My phone rang once more. It was a notification from the application.

Red words filled the entire screen.

[The Predator's Song will be played in 10 seconds.

[10, 9…]

My brain froze. What did the rule say?

[Remain completely still and hold your breath until the broadcast concludes.]

I instantly lay on the couch like a log. My heart was thumping so loud that it was about to pop out of my chest.

[3, 2, 1.]

The world turned quiet.

There was no music. No white noise. Only an ultra-high frequency buzz, which pierced directly into my brain like a red-hot needle.

It was agony.

It was so painful that I wanted to curl up, but I did not dare to move. The rules said that I needed to remain completely still. I could not move even a finger.

The buzzing drifted closer, then further, as if it was flying around me in circles.

No, not flying. It was swimming.

The air thickened. Gravity seemed to have multiplied. I felt stuck like an insect sealed within amber.

The air in me was almost gone, and my lungs started to burn. The lack of oxygen made me start to see black, but I still did not dare to breathe.

I was afraid that an inhale would disturb the airflow.

It was next to me. I could feel its hot and moist breath on my face, as well as that familiar, nauseating stench.

Something gently touched my eyelash. Long and slick.

A tentacle.

It was testing me. Testing to see if I was dead or alive, prey or carrion.

My eyes were wide open, staring ahead at the emptiness in front of me. Even if tears were falling, I did not dare to blink.

The tentacle slid down my face, to my nostril, landing on my lips.

It was waiting. Waiting for me to take a breath. A single breath.

I was finished. I was starting to lose consciousness, and every fibre in my body was yelling for me to breathe.

Using my final strain of senses, I locked my throat tighter. I was taking a bet.

A bet that it would start to lose patience before me.

A while later, perhaps a minute but seemed like an eternity, the tentacle retracted.

The buzzing in my ears gradually faded and eventually disappeared altogether.

The application's interface returned to normal. An alert popped up.

[End of song.]

I gasped and took a huge breath of air while coughing violently. I fell to the floor, curling up.

I survived. I somehow managed to survive. However, just before I could celebrate, I caught sight of the mirror from the corner of my eye.

There were three deep purple marks on my neck, like something had cinched tight around my throat.

Between them, a slit slowly opened.

It opened, then closed.

It was a real gill.