text: The form before me is positively massive, the sea dripping off in rivulets. My mind can’t even begin to comprehend it, as if in its very nature, it is wrongness given shape. I want to run away, howling madly, but I have a job to do. People have to know what is happening. What this creature wants. It raises its face, if you can call it a face, to look at me. Tendrils pulse and whirl around where the mouth would be. Its eyes are like enormous rubies, with a raging fire burning within. Those massive crimson chasms lock onto me, pinning me in place. From the outside, I hear a deep bellowing rumble. But within my head, I could hear a deep basso say,” Why have you disturbed me, peon.” All I can do is stand there, mouth agape, gasping like a landed fish. I wanted to escape those eyes, their scrutiny seeming to reach even the deepest recesses of my mind. “Can your kind not form thought into speech yet, small one,” it asked. What I could only assume as his brow rose like the tide. “Yes, yes I can speak. My apologies, it is rare that such a being as you is ever heard. Let alone seen. What would you have me call you?” “My true name would send you shrieking into the depths of madness, flea. You may refer to me as the dead dreamer.” “Alright, well Mr. Dreamer, why are you here? Do you come in peace?” I was really hoping it was not the alternative. “I come, because I was rudely awoken. I believe your fellow fleas have disturbed me with your drills, and your pumps. Taking what isn’t rightfully yours. My city was heavily damaged by the aftershocks of such activity.” “I will wipe this tomb clean of the filth that has caked the surface. A cleansing purge is often necessary to remove disease.” I gulped nervously. That didn’t sound remotely peaceful. But I had to press on. I raised my microphone as high above my head as I could, shouting, “So your purpose is to destroy then? What of the people that have grown to inhabit the planet.” “Well, they shall be destroyed, of course. Would you, pardon the expression, allow fleas to exist upon the back of your dog? No! You would purge the hound clean of the parasites. So it must be.” “Would you allow some of us to live?” It was but a small hope. “Possibly, if they were willing to serve. I believe I have unbeknownst agents amongst you already, so they may prove useful.” So that was it then. Humanity, save a small indoctrinated portion, would be wiped out. I could tell this was a promise, not a threat. Who’d have thought? Instead of being subjugated by some extraterrestrial, the greatest threat came from our own oceans. Finally dropping the pretense of this ill-fated interview, I fled. Screaming the whole way back to the van. Ross, my cameraman, was already behind the wheel. His eyes wide with panic, we careened away from the shore. We had to get away, spend what time we had left with those we cared about. As we fled, I turned and stared out the rear windshield. The Dreamer just watched us, serene as a statue. But the eyes, those damnable eyes, never left mine. I saw how it would end in that brief connection. I believe a small part of me snapped in that moment, because Ross told me I started to giggle wildly, speaking of the endless depths and those who live there. I remember none of it, only the eyes remain. Those damn eyes. Those damn eyes.