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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
What's really out there? Below the sea?

Submitted: March 08, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 08, 2016



Gary Newman stood in an old greenhouse that had been converted into a conservatory and now being used as a research lab for an old professor.

Gary was leaning up against a desk that had had paper strewn haphazardly across it. Each piece contained some form of graph or table, seismic readouts, geological surveys and temperature readings proceeded with longitude and latitudes.

His head swam with all the information that the professor had given him. He desperately sought any rhyme or reason behind what he had been told, logic and understanding escaped him and he could feel his grip on reality ebb away an ounce at a time.

“Are you sure about all this?” It certainly wasn’t the most prudent question to ask given the amount of research the professor had done, but Gary felt that he had to say something, as if doing so would reset his thoughts and things could slip into place, where they belong and make sense once more.

“Of course I am.” The Professor waved a hand nonchalantly at the massive mural that covered the entirety of the 12 foot west wall. The East wall and the roof were all that remained of the original greenhouse and the south led back into the house.

The professor was busying himself looking for something he had called an integral part of the plan as Gary looked up at the ill fitted puzzle on the wall. More than several dozen thermal images taken via satellite made up a rather horrifying visage.

The mural was that of the world, albeit with the Pacific Ocean at its centre rather than the obligatory Atlantic. Sitting comfortably within the confines of the Pacific, an obscenely large thermal blob with several long appendages extending out from it reminiscent of a star fish. The mass nearly covered the entire world.

Gary felt sick to his stomach. How could something like this have gone unnoticed for so long? With so many people constantly poking and prodding at every dark corner of the world to understand all it’s mysteries?

“How...” Gary couldn’t get the words out, his throat was drying up rapidly and trying to clear it left it painfully scratchy.

“How come no one has seen it before?” finished the professor. “Simple, it communes with is though our dreams, controls and influences us.”

“Really? It’s psychic?”

“Of course, it’s a Parasite and like all parasites, it’s developed methods to remain undetected.”

“And you plan to just kill it?”

“Indeed” the professor gave a yelp that made Gary jump, “with this!” He held aloft a hypodermic needle of comical sizing filled with a gummy red liquid.

© Copyright 2018 Carl Worgan. All rights reserved.

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