The ramblings of the hopelessly mad never failed to supply me with entertainment, and though I knew they merely spoke the falsities engraved into their minds by their lack of sanity, I listened still, taking in what only an absolute madman could possibly believe to be reality. Today, however, it felt different, these drivelings seemed to almost yield some kind of sinister infatuation, which drew only more curiosity and a sort of fear from me. Was I, too, going mad simply from being in the presence of such hopelessly bygone minds? I decided against such an assumption and instead disregarded the speech of these brainsick fools.
My sleep that night, however, seemed to be hell bent on reminding me time and time again of what that man said, of this deep, accursed sea way below the crust of the earth, of the fantastically unearthly entities which dwelled there, of these supposed gods and devils and creatures no logical existence would dare hold. He told me of a multi-layered underworld, not Hell nor Heaven nor purgatory, merely a place where the dead exist between the abstract concept of existence and nonexistence, where endless eternities and damnation reside, where the very thoughts of mortal and immortal alike clash and live and die, where there is no hope or lack thereof, only pure evanescence.
As these ideas and thoughts turned over in my mind I saw them, the boundless, undulating sight of the beings that reside in The Buried Sea, and everything I knew, my sanity and humanity, all of it cracked and shattered into a trillion pieces spread throughout the tenebrous waters of the cosmos which had not been touched for aeons, and there I fell into nothingness, my very soul becoming nothingness.
They cannot be named, they defy the universe itself merely by existing. They speak to me and I can see that they are not simply in charge of all creation, they are all creation. They are separate, yes, but they cannot be individualized. They are the creatures whom dwell in the Buried Sea.
And they are the Buried Sea.
