S H O RT S TO R I E S F R O M T H E G LO B A L C LA S S R O O M |
2014
as head of the Geomarine Institute, but the intrigue and mystery of it all made me feel like I had ten years ago, fresh
from university with my head full of ambitions and my hands itching for anything more interesting than river gravel.
My nostalgic reverie was interrupted by a hoarse cry from the wizened captain, ordering the crew to pull back the
sails and drop the heavy iron anchor into the depths. I realized we must have arrived, and glanced curiously over the
listless waters.
Sure enough, the dark gray contained a shade lighter than the rest, as if made from ghostly crystal. Ethereal and
tantalizing, it thrust up from the abyssal black below, forming into a delicate, irregular spire that only barely
broke the surface, the sharpened point slicing through the waves. As I prepared my equipment, I noticed with
a combination of surprise and unease that there were several of the structures; dozens, if not hundreds of them
glistened just below the water. It was unlike anything I had ever seen, both beautiful and eerie.
I shifted anxiously, knowing I would approach them soon. The bell was being prepared behind me, the wooden
beam creaking as it strained to lower the ominous structure down to the surface of the sour ocean, and I forcefully
quenched a bilious surge of adrenaline. The diving bell had been invented to permit humans to reach deep water
alive. The brass structure was shaped like a bloated, reversed cup, designed to shield its occupant in a space full of
trapped air, pressurized and supplied by a system of wheezing pumps and straining valves.
I was trembling slightly, from both anticipation and fear. No amount of reasoning could shake me from the dread of
a watery grave, and my conviction almost faltered. As I approached the churning waters, I clutched the oiled leather
sheath that contained my tools. After another tremulous breath, taking in the salty air, I closed my eyes and jumped.
It was as cold as death. Even though I had been expecting this, the shock forced me to pull taut, shuddering, exhaling
a trail of silvery bubbles as I swam clumsily to the brass lip of the bell. My eyes burned, but I forced them open
despite the pain. I slipped below the bell with trepidation, into the dark and cold womb of the depths, where I was
both safe and unwelcome. The only light came from the water below me, as I dragged myself onto the bench that
circled the inside of the chamber. The icy liquid shivered off of me as I drew in a breath of the metallic air, the taste of
brass clinging oil-like to my tongue. My heart was throbbing in my chest, my lungs aching numbly from the cold, but
I ignored them. Through the rippling surface beneath me I could see the first of the spires, graceful and unsettling.
I slipped a hand back into the water and seized the thin rope that allowed me to communicate with the surface,
tugging sharply. With a rumbling moan of machinery, the bell started to descend, agonizingly slow. The ocean
churned around me and my pulse became frantic. I forced myself to breathe regularly, calmly, despite the wheezing
of the pumps that supplied me with air. Droplets of water fell sonorously from the slightly faulty seal above me.
One of the spires scraped across the outside of the bell, raking across it like the fang of some unfathomable
monstrosity, echoing through the hollow darkness. A low moan escaped my lips. My hand was clenched around the
cord, prepared to tug at it clumsily, to send a plea for help to the surface, but I tempered my panic to the best of my
ability. I needed to retrieve a fragment from the depths.
I forced myself to stay calm, breathing deeply, and slipped a hand through my matted hair. The open water below
me was darkening steadily, roiling as the nightmarish structure descended. The beauty of the glassy spines was more
paralyzing than enticing now; each one gleamed with sharpened edges that could no doubt tear through flesh and
skin with unsettling ease. The thought made me wince. I caught a glimmer of movement in the corner of my eyes, a
shape slipping effortlessly between the glassy spines, and instinctively lurched away from the water.
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