Chapter One
The wind raged wildly around the small dive boat that served as my vessel on the high seas. I cursed my poor luck. The weather reports hadn’t even mentioned the possibility of a tropical storm in this area of the Gulf. I clung on to the hull desperately as the waves pitched the small ship in the storm, the torrential downpour hammering down upon me and my ship. Closing my eyes I began to pray to God that the ocean would calm itself, but my pleas seemed to go unanswered as I was flung from the deck to watch helplessly as the “Silver Seahorse” began to capsize.
Treading water, I turned around desperately trying to remember which way it was to shore, but unable to see anything on the horizon, I began to feel a sensation of dread. I was going to die here. Not even thirty years old and I was going to drown due to a freak accident of nature, alone in the cold and salty water. I couldn’t even say that I went down fighting against my fate with the way the rough ocean waves quickly sapped my strength. I watched as my vessel began to slowly sink beneath the now churning ocean, the water bubbling as though it were boiling hot. But suddenly there was almost an unnatural stillness in the air and for a moment I caught a glimpse of a woman with long black hair standing upon the waves. Not treading water, not swimming; standing. I called out to her desperately for help, and as the waves rose upwards and fell once more, she was gone. As I sank beneath the waves along with my ship I clutched at my throat reaching for the surface as though the air would somehow manage to find a way to my lungs if I could just touch it. Within moments the harsh water began to sting my lungs and my vision soon faded to black.
My eyes snapped open as I sat up quickly in my bed, gasping for air, only to be met with the view of the wide jaws of a monstrous creature. A sigh of relief escaped my lungs; it had only been a nightmare. The creature’s jaws were actually a comforting sight to me, something that was an unusual concept for others. “Hello Nessie.” I muttered sleepily to the poster advertising information about the Loch Ness Monster.Swinging my legs over the side of my four-post bed, I stretched with a yawn as my body began to adjust to the waking world around me. I looked out the window of my small apartment, the Galveston bay spanning almost indefinitely in either direction. I was lucky to have this place. The view was something that most people would kill for, even though our beach is far from a tropical paradise. The murky ocean water rolled up upon the shore before retreating back to the depths as it always had before and for a moment I felt the serenity of the island settling over me. Until I glanced at my watch and realized what time it was.
“Son of a bitch…” I tore from my window quickly as I ran to my closet rifling through my things to find my uniform. I was due for work at the pier and I couldn’t be late again. I relied far too much on being in with the manager and I was positive that she was probably ready to fire me if I showed up even a minute late again. Finding my stylized polo shirt that simply read “Galveston Boardwalk Park” I quickly tugged it on and with a spray of cologne I was headed towards the door. I had just graduated with my Associate’s Degree from college. Despite my father’s wishes however I chose not to continue my schooling; I just felt as if I had a much more important calling in life. Cryptozoology. That was my true passion. Ever since I was little I had always been enchanted by stories of monsters and mythological creatures, and now I was living my dream…more or less. True I worked for a second-rate amusement park and/or tourist trap, but heck, funding for my expeditions had to come from somewhere and there were worse jobs to have.
I had just managed to purchase the “Silver Seahorse” which was a small, used dive boat that used to belong to some drug smuggler before the police caught him and put his boat in auction. A change of name, a new paint job, and the thing was my very own escape from the boring world of reality. Passing the many posters that hung on my wall of various sea monsters I reached into the small jar that held my keys and name tag. The thing was an ugly little vase, one I’d picked up in a flea market before I left Houston to move here out on my own. It was a small brownish funnel, meant to look like a tornado with teeth painted on the inside of the jar’s rim. Etched into the side (most likely by the amateur potter who made the thing) was the name CHARYBDIS, one of my personal favorite Greek myths.
