It was pitch black among the enervating night when Brennan had somehow ventured out onto the shore of the ravenously furied waters.What am I doing? No, this isn’t possible. he thought as he struggled against the frightening force that willed him forward, step by step, each one throwing daggers laced with pure fear straight into his heart. “STOP!” he screamed desperately to his legs, his brain, or whatever was controlling the movements that brought him closer and closer to his deepest and darkest fear; the ocean.

~~~


Thirteen years ago, Brennan was merely five years of age. His mother had taken him on his first trip to the beach. His father had passed away the year before and his mother had been working hard since then to provide for her son the best that she could. So, Brennan saw this miniature getaway as a rare and unexpected treasure. The beach was completely abandoned, no signs of life among the stretch of gray sand under the dismally shaded clouds. Young Brennan ran out among the frigid sand under the somber sky, raking his toes through the grains to spell out his name in large, disproportionate lettering.

He turned back toward his mother and saw her laying out two miserably plain ham and cheese sandwiches that they were to have for lunch yet again. He waved his arms awkwardly in hopes that she would notice and acknowledge his superb toe-raking skills. Her gloomy eyes never met his. Before he could look down once more at the masterpiece he had created, the ocean waves slid up to surprise him, pulling a layer of sand and water over his artwork and diminishing the pride he seldom ever felt. He watched the wave retract into its gargantuan lair, and frowned as it dispersed into more waves that constantly returned to ridicule him. I’m not going to let some wave destroy my sand drawing! he thought confidently, turning the situation into a game of pretend, as younglings tend to do. He mustered up what little courage he had, and with an exaggerated march, he charged toward the water with the fervor of a warrior. A moment of doubt flourished through him and he turned back in hopes of a reassuring smile from his mother, but he instead witnessed a rather disheartening sight. His mother sat, limp with exhaustion, tears falling from her tired eyes, her chest taking in desperate heaves of breath. Brennan’s little shoulders dropped in concern and he stood watching, knee deep in the water, suddenly unaware of the waves around him growing savage or the clouds swelling with darkness.

He wanted to sprint over and pull her into a consoling embrace and promise to be a good man-of-the-house like Daddy was. Maybe he was afraid to because he had never seen her cry before, but he couldn’t move. Mom? he thought. “Mommy!” he shouted to her, his voice laced with an endearing worry. He thought he should run over to her. However, for some strange reason he couldn’t do it. He looked down at his feet and through the rushing water around them. There didn’t seem to be a problem. His mom noticed him then and quickly pulled herself together, smudging the tears away into the sleeve of her frayed jacket, and slowly regaining an obviously false, pleasant expression. Brennan’s legs remained resistant to his demands. He reached his arms out for her in distress, and she returned his gesture with a look of confusion. He strained his eyes to find hers clearly, so the look in his would translate that he was in danger. Suddenly, his mother burst upright, her eyes wide with terror. “BRENNAN!” her scream strained to reach him, an overexerted shriek that certainly damaged her voice as well as the ears of any creature nearby. And then it hit him, igniting a sense of fear more severe than he already felt. Just as he heard her call his name he felt a dark shadow creep over him. A monster of a wave broke directly above his frozen stature, suffocating him with a vulnerability that infused itself with the water that plunged into his throat and over his already terrified demeanor.

~~~

Brennan blinked his eyes, forcing the wretched memory out of his anxious mind and addressed the petrifying issue that he was facing yet again. Another step forward, completely against his straining efforts to hault. “PLEASE,” he begged, his voice breaking with maddening desperation. One more step and he’d be in the water. Suddenly the world was twisting and turning around his vision, the crashing waves menacingly greeting him. He began breathing in deep, staccato breaths, pushing him further into a state of panic. A light-headedness infected his fear. He couldn’t fight the intensity of the panic attack creeping in on him, just like he was defenseless against the energy that compelled him.

Chest deep in seething waters, the sky was ominously dark, speckled with menacing clouds that threatened to poison the night with an unforgiving storm. In between heaves he cried for mercy, cried for his mother the way she cried for him that first day on the beach. “HELP” he shouted in the direction of the sky above. In response the clouds erupted in laughter, so much so, that they began to cry, mocking Brennan with tears of scorn. The storm begun, cueing the waves to flare up with colossal rage. As if what he was already enduring wasn’t enough, he felt his control over his knees vanish completely as they began to be pushed down by the invisible force. He slowly descended into the water, his head above the surface constantly being smacked by malicious waves. He began to lose control of his arms. They were abruptly pinned to his sides despite his persistent struggling. Then, as the thundering waves crashed relentlessly against each other, the rain adding to the symphony of catastrophic noise, Brennan was finally pulled under.

He held his breath. He kept his eyes shut. He didn’t want to see the oblivion that lurked below the surface of profound wickedness. His clothes did nothing to protect him from the gelid currents that lunged across his body, and tugged at the sleeves of his father’s old sweater, and pulled with cruelty at his plaid pajama bottoms. Voices began to arise in volume, sinking below the water and echoing with a haunting ghostliness. He shook, trembling with utter terror as the murky, slurred words slithered into his ears. He wanted to scream, but as soon as he opened his mouth, he was jerked up with a painful strength, as if a thousand arms were grappling his body.

He emerged from the waters, eyes still closed. He immediately sensed an overwhelmingly great difference. He was sure that what he was feeling were hands grasped harshly on every limb. With that, he opened his eyes wide with a fearfully shocked terror and was astonished to find himself unclothed in a large bathtub, his legs and arms flailing uncontrollably about despite the hands that tried to restrain him. He then became aware that he was screaming, his screeching laced with an absence of sanity that terrified him even more as it pierced the air.

“GOD, WHY DOES IT ALWAYS TAKE AN ARMY JUST TO GET THIS FREAKIN’ NUTCASE CLEANED?!” the nurse spat through his teeth...


The End.