G(r)asp

         Dark sheets of grey lashed against the sand. Every crunch that echoed out from his steps pierced the night air. The moon kept its face masked, dark grey clouds only allowing a slit for her eyes to slip through. A pale circle of light swept across the beach in repetitive motions. Right to left. Right to left. James’ eyes tracked the light, his entire field of view limited to the flashlight’s mercy. Damp sand, painted morbid grey under the sky, stretched off into the distance, curling itself around the distant hills like the ashen tail of some slumbering beast.
         James raised his left hand to look at the small pamphlet he held, wrinkled and folded from his continuous twisting. A crude map of erratic lines glistened indecipherably back, and he moved the light to discern it better. The chilling ocean air stung his neck, and he turned his back to the sea quickly. An empty parking lot, save for a single car, stared back at him, a dim reminder that he had no company out here. Good. He had come at this hour for that express reason.
         His eyes traced the lines of black ink, and his lips moved silently as he mouthed whispers. James craned his neck behind him, swept the light back and forth across the shore, and turned back to the map. He’d worked here for years, but he’d never heard of something buried on the beach. Of course, his job as a lifeguard didn’t afford him a lot of time to look around, but surely someone would have found something?
         The wrinkled old map in the museum had caught his eye. It was a new arrival, recently unearthed. The associated plaque had explained this in great detail, along with the story that supposedly came with it. But the chilling tale and hint of treasure only heightened his excitement. Something was buried here, he was sure. The map looked just like the shore here, he had surveyed it enough to know it by heart. But there was nothing here.
         James bit his bottom lip and stuffed the pamphlet back into his pocket. The map was simple enough to copy down; it wasn’t the classic “x marks the spot”, but he had thought it would be easy enough to follow. Now he wasn’t so sure, standing there looking at the darkness that smothered the sea like oil. But still…
         James took a long, deep breath and pulled the pamphlet out again. The map was quite old, but if he lined that rock up with that… and the curve of the coast there… then right around there…
         The churning of the water shattered the flashlight’s beam, sending random rays flying about as each wave passed. But all James could see was the opaque surface, whatever lay beneath devoured by the tides. He looked down at the map again. If the tide was higher than normal, and the map was old enough, then whatever it was pointing to could certainly be underneath the waves.
         James took some steps towards the waterline and stopped, watching seawater lap at his toes. “It looks heavy,” he thought to himself. But he was a lifeguard; he was trained to never fear water. He took out the pamphlet one last time, committed it to memory as best he could, and laid it to rest in his pocket. Next, he looked down at his flashlight. It wasn’t waterproof. He a sigh, he clicked it off, and the shadows rushed in to claw at him. The clouds slid over the face of the moon, and in complete darkness, James stripped off his outerwear, folded it up as best he could, and placed it on the hardened sand. He shivered in the frigid air, the waves aggressively throwing spray against his shins.
         Steeling his will, James took a tentative step into the waves. Followed by another. The sand crept up between his toes, twining around his ankles like grainy snakes. He pressed on , the thrill of the hunt keeping his blood warm. He waded in until the waves were lapping at his navel, and he reached out with his toe, knowing that the coast would begin to drop away at this point. Finding more sand, he tentatively edged his way out, the waves slowly rising up his torso. He flicked a quick look to his right, using the hills on the right as a makeshift marker. Eventually, the sand abruptly ended, and James dipped his toe down, feeling nothing but void beneath. He looked down, but his body disappeared into the murky abyss of the nighttime ocean.
         A long, slow breath. Another one. And then he dove forward.
         The moon broke through its cover as James broke the crest of the waves. Slanted beams of moonlight pierced through the ocean, streams of white illuminating floating specks, and reaching out to disappear into the rift below. James looked down and about, the beams whipping around his vision as he quickly turned his head this way and that. He’d never swam down before. There was no need to. No one had ever had trouble this far down before. But if something was hidden, it would be there. He swam up, broke the surface, took a last gasp of air, and pushed himself further down.
         James kicked fiercely, muscling his way further down. The water pushed against his body, and he could feel the pressure increasing as he pushed further and further down. To his left, the seafloor rose up as a menacing cliff face. In the hallow light, the cliff was a single shade of dull grey. James pushed onwards, eyes stinging in the saltwater. He scanned the abyss below, and eventually, the murky floor began to come into focus. Bits of seaweed floated amongst the water, tossed around in small currents. Below this, a kelp forest waved in eerie harmony, fronds weaving forward and back, as if pushed by a persistent wind.
         Bringing the map to mind as best he could, James recollected a fuzzy memory, and turned, pushing back against the current that now threatened his progress. His lungs were beginning to take note of the lack of oxygen, and were mildly annoying him, but he forced that to the back of his mind. Treasure called, and he had to answer.
         He brushed atop the forest, and it seemed as if the kelp reached up to graze him as he slid along, each green tip, basked in tones of grey under the moon, straining up to caress his skin and reluctantly releasing him as he passed. He chalked it up to imagination, and began actively searching the area, looking for anything out of the ordinary. At the edges of his vision, he could have sworn that the kelp was growing longer, encroaching upon him and the beam of light he waded in.
         And then there was darkness.
         It took James a moment to realize that the moonlight was gone. Beneath the waves, he was surrounded by crushing darkness. No sound reached his ears, no light his eyes, no sensation but the cool misty feel of water on skin, the burning of salt and lungs, and his tongue now sitting uncomfortably dry in his mouth.
         He had to remind himself that taking a deep breath to calm his nerves was a bad idea. He looked up, but there was no end to the gaping void that extended above him. “No matter,” he thought, “I can just swim back up.” He oriented himself at what he believed to be up, and gave a mighty kick…
         And felt something grasp at his leg.
         Panic set upon his mind in an instant. James kicked again, more frantically, and he felt bubbles burst from his mouth and glide past his face, escaping to the surface above. The sensation on his right leg felt slimy, and he could feel it slowly crawl its way up from his shin, to his thigh, and begin worming its way around his midsection. He looked down, but all that met his eyes was darkness. He couldn’t see his own body beneath him, and he began to feel something else poke at his left heel.
         James kicked again, the exertion encouraging his lungs to begin screaming. The object at his left heel now took a firm grip of his left foot, and gave a sharp tug downwards. The tentacle-like protrusion around his waist began to pull as well, insistently, like a child pulling at its mother’s dress.
         James grabbed at the menace at his torso, and pulled at it with desperate, jerking motions. Whatever it was, it felt cool and flat. “Kelp?” he thought. But kelp wasn’t this strong. And as he tugged and wrestled with it, he swore it had the constitution of steel.
         More air erupted from his mouth, and James now began to worry about breathing. He fought harder, kicking and thrashing about in a panic. The pressure in his ears built up slowly, and he knew he was being dragged down inch by inch. More tips prodded at his legs, and the feeling of bodies snaking their way over his lower body multiplied. Finally, James opened his mouth and the ocean water rushed in greedily, filling it with the taste of salt as it shoved the air out. James twisted and turned, his eyes stinging from salt in the water, and new salt from tears that simply dissolved once formed. His throat began to hurt in earnest, his lungs crying out for relief. He had always heard that suffocating felt like your throat was on fire, but James only felt tightness as his own windpipe constricted, futilely fighting to keep the ocean at bay.
         James continued his descent, but his feet felt no bottom. Only the continued embrace of more and more vines. He threw his head back, searching for something from above, pleading that someone, something was coming to save him. In his mind, as a different sort of darkness impeded his vision, he saw the pamphlet, with the map drawn clearly. The flashlight, lying atop his neatly folded clothes. And the beach, his beloved beach, snaking around the hills, sand suffocating stone.