text: I was a captain on a ship of the royal navy when we encountered an abandoned vessel in the midst of the Atlantic Ocean. The Winchester was a formidable ship with around 60 guns and a crew of 50 men. It was a dark night with turbulent winds and high waves constantly crashing against the vessel. I was sitting in my cabin waiting for more pleasant weather like anyone else, when I heard the cry from the crow’s nest. The man’s voice was shrill with terror, causing me to take look for myself at once. Yet nothing could have prepared me for what came next. Fog in the colour of sickly green filled the air and covered the sea’s surface. An odour of death and fear tainted the usually salty air. I kept my mouth firmly shut for the thought of tasting the stomach-churning stench made me almost lose my last meal. Taking my own spyglass, I proceeded to scan the sea around us. There, not far ahead in the distance, steadily becoming more distinct was another ship. The longer I looked the more I felt the urge to turn away and shout the order to turn around. And yet as if bound by some invisible, dreadful force my eyes were glued to the strange ship. An eerie feeling started to course through my veins. Finally able to look away I turned to my first mate, planning to finally get away from the strange phenomenon which made me more uncomfortable with each passing minute. Upon turning around however, I saw how most of the crew were sitting or lying on deck. Succumbing to the poisonous stench their skin had taken on a greenish tinge, similar to the one in the air. Concerned for my own wellbeing I looked at my own hands, but the skin was normally coloured. The sudden sound of cracking thunder made me nearly jump out of my skin. From the corner of my eye, I noticed the approaching ship. It was bigger than any ship I’d ever seen before. The sails torn and battered; the wooden body showed several holes as if it had just fled from battle. A soft tremble seized my legs out of fear as much as out of wonder. Despite the sinister atmosphere accompanying the vessel, something seemed to reach out for my soul. Like the tentacles of the mythical kraken, the ghostly ship tried to drag me towards it. And I had to admit to myself it was getting more and more difficult for me to resist the urge to jump into the sea and swim to the strange vessel. The thought had barely crossed my mind when a splash sounded, resulting from one of the sailors doing exactly what I tried not to. With morbid curiosity I observed the situation in which the sailor took hold of a rope ladder reaching down from the ship’s deck. With frantic determination the man climbed upwards, his features concealed by the thick fog as he reached the ship deck. I strained my ears to listen for any alarming sounds, but the sea and wind had grown awfully quiet. Unable to keep still I started to pace around. Occasionally crouching down to examine on of my fellow men, who were still comatose due to the fog’s unnatural effects. Effects to which I was apparently immune as the only one. Out of nothing a shriek of unutterable terror echoed through the night. It came from the ghostly ship, which now stood right next to the Winchester. It’s deck, surrounded by the ghastly fog, still unreachable for my eyes must have been twenty feet higher than our own. Thick, slimy algae covered the ship’s outside, giving me the impression of fingers or tentacles waiting or some unfortunate victim to come into their reach. More shrieks shook the night, with the voice growing higher pitched with each outcry. Whatever the poor man endured before mercifully falling silent, it must have been horrifying even painful. Turning back to my remaining unconscious men, I decided how we had to get away from the accursed vessel. Another man stirred, throwing open his eyes he got up and towards the railing. Acting on impulse I ran up to him, trying to prevent the man from jumping. I screamed for him to stand down. Achieving nothing, I threatened him with severe punishment. As nothing else worked, I even begged him to stay. But as if hypnotized the man stared blankly at the hellish ship, following the call of unknown horror. Being of higher stature than me, the man shook me off. Exhausted I fell to the wooden ground, watching helplessly as the next one made for the ladder. Again, I felt the strange call to follow, to go aboard the other ship. The thought of being led to my doom by some supernatural force made me shudder. I could feel my rational sense going numb, the longer I looked at this monstrosity. Afraid, I might obey after all, I went into my cabin. When I heard the next man die, I covered my ears. There was no escape, without wind the Winchester would sail nowhere. And without men I couldn’t hope to drive the ship by oar. Another splash announced the doom of the next man, causing my heart to sink. How could I sit here, when they swam to their deaths. Restless and shaken by the horrendous sounds I went outside again. A bottle of brandy accompanied me as I faced my enemy again. What was it? Where did it come from? And why was I the only one immune to its charms? Again, screams filled the empty night. But the brandy muffled them for me, so I could endure. Gathering my thoughts again I tackled the next man to the ground, who attempted to rise. I knew him quite well, for he had joined the navy only months before. Being very young he sometimes needed someone to point him the way. The alcohol had made me confident enough to believe I could save the young man from his fate. Yet despite being skinny he managed to push me away and get up. Quickly I grabbed his ankle, he walked on in a way that suggested I was nothing more than a piece of cloth. Right before the man jumped, my courage yielded and I let go. Still the guilt infected me at once, while I listened to the sounds of my failure. Perhaps I as mad, I certainly am now, or the call finally triumphed over my will. All I remember is how I found myself in the cold ocean making for the ghostly ship, well aware of my inevitable and probably hideous end. Nevertheless, if there was any chance of saving my men, I would gladly plunge into the depths of hell itself. Shivering due to cold, fear and anticipation I entered the deck. The increase in the concentration of decay’s stench made me double up until I managed to compose myself in spite of the sickening air. If I wanted to save the young man I would have to hurry, but whereto? Just like the outer side the deck’s floor was covered in slimy algae as thick as grass. A faint path of slightly trampled green told me where to go. Carefully not to slip I made for the stairs leading down into the ship’s belly. Darkness engulfed me. A strange clamminess defined the air below deck. Something moved in the shadows, slowly and dangerously. I tried to find the member of my crew, but could find no trace of him. Instead, I perceived a slithering, sucking sound. The kind of sound that would make any sane person search for the next best escape route. Managing to find some matches I lit one, for I could not bear any longer to stand in darkness. I would rather face the terror of this ship than stumble blindly into its arms. My wish was granted. For the few seconds the flame illuminated part of my surroundings I saw. What I saw was beyond what humanity had found out about the world we live in. Like a parasitic overgrowth, a green, fleshy mass covered the ship’s walls and partly the ground. A soft pulse ran through it with the rhythm of a heartbeat. Unable to contain my hunger for knowledge, I lit another one. This time it revealed to me the grotesque tentacles several feet long and moving steadily. Yet nothing was as unsettling as the dozens of eyes, located everywhere in the biogenic mass. Differently sized, they were brightly yellow with a slitted pupil. Cautiously I started to move, litting a new matchstick as soon as the old one stopped to burn. I didn’t want to step on the creature in fear of making it aware of my presence. Desperately I looked for my man, until I found him wrapped in tentacles still wearing the same blank expression. Drawing my sabre, I planned to free him, when at once all the eyes in the room looked at me. There was no benevolence behind those eyes, no human intelligence. They seemed to belong to some primordial creature from the dawn of time, above humanity’s understanding and yet succumbing to its own instincts. Or did it just not care about us, who were naught but food to it? Forcing myself to move, despite the paralyzing horror that started to seize me. I went towards the tentacles holding my man hostage. Alas, I should have turned around. For I was too late in any case. The moment I took another step, the young man’s eyes lost their blankness and filled with indescribable terror. In a crazed frenzy he tried to wriggle himself free. Uttering his own version of those shrieks I had to witness several times before. I entertained the idea that those terrible eyes showed a hint of malicious glee upon seeing the poor lad scared out of his mind. Slowly, very slowly the tentacles dragged the young man towards what seemed to be the amin body of the monstrosity. The moment he touched it his screams turned from those of fear into those of pain. His body started to dissolve into its elementary structures. Skin, flesh, bone and blood everything fell apart and was absorbed by the creature. My heart dropped, swiftly I went back to the stairs as far away from the horror as possible. My matches were almost empty when I lit another one. The eyes had followed my every movement, hungrily they examined me. Studied me. It mocked me, dared me to do something. Why didn’t it attack? Not waiting to be caught, it went back to the deck. The moonless, black sky loomed over me, magnifying the sensation of dread residing in my guts. I could hear another distant splash and knew; this creature would soon feast upon the next man. I couldn’t let that happen. Trying to find some help I went into the captain’s quarters of the ghostly ship. Inside the cabin the walls were covered in the same green tendrils. This creature whatever it was, grew through the ship. Through the very structure. On the rotting table I found a mouldy logbook. I was just looking through the weathered pages as a sudden movement made me topple to the ground. Looking outside the windows I saw that the ship had started moving again. Hastily I made for the chamber’s door. The ship moved with horrendous speed, leaving the Winchester far behind. I would have to jump and swim if I wanted to escape. Suddenly, a thick tentacle burst through the wood beneath my feet. I avoided its grip but had to hurry, for it seemingly searched for me. Clasping the logbook firmly in my hand, I hurled myself over the railing into the sea. I sank deep enough to get a glimpse of the ship’s downside before swimming to the surface. Nothing gave away the creature living on the inside, whose stare I still felt in my very bones. Breaking through the sea’s surface I saw the man who had almost become the next victim. His eyes showed sincere confusion about him finding himself in the midst of the salty water. Our crew soon fished us out of the ocean. Even after warming up, I did not stop shaking. I couldn’t. I resigned from the Navy as soon as we made port in England. But the certainty of me being onshore didn’t change the condition of my frayed mind. I can’t sleep. I close my eyes and I am back in the dark ship, surrounded by tentacles and eyes. Those haunting eyes! Each night I fear they might come down to me from the dark sky. Leering at me with this malicious glint. I can’t bear it. This gun I am carrying around with me looks friendlier by the day. After deciphering the book, I had carried with me, I burned the damned thing. It was an ancient language and most of the writing had fallen victim to time and water. I dare not speak of what I read. Dare not think of it, out of fear dwelling on it might drive me insane. May God have mercy on my soul. There are things in this world, we are not meant to see.