I call my story, The Yawning Deep.

I couldn’t remember how exactly I got to the deep water. I simply awoke surrounded by water on all sides and above there seemed only darkness. It must have been a new moon, I thought, with little comfort. Still, I couldn’t see the stars either. The pitch black only added to my confusion. I could hardly make out my own limbs. Looking down I realized my feet had disappeared beneath my duck float. This wasn’t unusual, although I never went beyond shallow water as I don’t know how to swim. Somehow, though, I had gone beyond the shallows for my feet couldn’t touch the bottom. I kicked but felt only cool water. Lots and lots of water.

Panicking, I thrashed about. I kicked wildly, but only managed to move myself in circles. When my float threaten to tip over, I stopped kicking. If it flipped I would surely drown. Calm now, I listened for movement but heard only the ripples I made with my own bobbing–up and down, ripple ripple. I twisted gently this way and that way looking for a light that might be from a lighthouse or a coast guard boat, but I saw nothing. Several minutes passed in silence until I heard ripples from further out.

Something was in the water with me!

“Hello?” I said, my voice quivering.

I heard bubbles and then more ripples, this time from behind me.

“Hello?” I said again. “Is anyone there?”

Something brushed against my leg. If I hadn’t been born green, I would be green then–sick with terror. Something was toying with me. Just then whatever it was–a creature I could only imagine–breached in front of me and even in the dimness I could see the flash of what appeared to be sharp white teeth. Teeth capable of popping my duck float and leaving me helpless and drowning as it feasted on me.

“Who’s there?” I demanded to know, though I was in no position to demand anything. I was simply compelled by fear to make myself seem up for a fight. “Who are you?”

“Me?” said a deep, gravelly voice. It surprised me in its nearness, as if it were just beside me. “I am the deep.”

“The deep?”

The creature only chuckled a deep, gravelly chuckle–the most solid thing around. Then all went quiet until I yelped. I had felt a nibble at my webbed foot. The creature surfaced once more and chuckled again.

“What do you want?” I shrieked.

“Not much.” The way the creature snapped its jaws between words had me  imagining it was a great white shark or a hungry alligator. I dared not allow myself to think then that it could be something worse. “I want simply to fill my large belly.”

The creature yawned.

“What do you eat?” I asked, fearing the answer.

“Duck floats.”

“But I can’t swim without my float,” I said in a flurry of tongue and lips.

“Then I’ll just have to eat you, too.” It chuckled.

I said nothing as I heard the sound of something sliding across the rubber of my duck float. I feared it was a sharp set of teeth and that my float would pop at any moment.

“I’m so tired.” The creature yawned, then, to my relief: “I’ll just have to eat you in the morning.”

“Yes,” I said. “Best not to eat right before bed.”

“See you in the morning,” the creature said and disappeared with a splash of water.

Alone, I shook with fear. I wondered how many hours I had until dawn. It seemed an hour or so passed before I heard anything besides my own heavy breathing.

“–I just love kids,” a deep male voice said. It sounded like coach Frankie talking. As the voices grew near, it sounded as if they were walking on solid ground, not wading through water. Beyond confused, I remained silent, fearful it was the creature or madness playing a trick on me. “After you, my dear,” the male voice said. “I’m just going to go get our candle lit dinner from the microwave.”

The voice that answered sounded like Miss Shelly. She said, “That sounds lovely. It’s rather dark in here, though.”

“Oh, yes. Sorry,” coach Frankie said, and I heard him scurry off somewhere. He most certainly was running, not swimming. “I’ll just turn on the lights.”

I heard a click and the sun suddenly appeared mid sky. Only it wasn’t the sun. It was several strips of fluorescent lights. My eyes adjusted quickly and I noticed I wasn’t in a swamp or an ocean. I wasn’t even in a lake. I was in the deep end of a large, rectangular swimming pool.

“Oh jeez,” I now heard Coach Frankie say. In the light I could see it really was him. He leapt in the water and swam to me. As he pulled me to the edge of the pool, I looked into the depths. I saw no creature, though.

“Love kids, huh?” Miss Shelly said, her arms crossed. She tapped her foot. After coach Frankie fumbled over his words and failed to explain himself, Miss Shelly left with a huff and a puff of anger. After she had left, the coach and I sat at the edge of the pool, kicking our legs in the clear water.

I asked coach Frankie then if he saw anyone leave, but he said no. “You’re the only one here.”

“You’re certain?”

The coach nodded, but there was a sudden sadness in his eyes.  “I’m sorry for leaving you in here. I feel terrible. You’d think I’d be more careful seeing as someone drowned in here before.”

“They did?”

“Oh, yes.” The coach nodded, solemnly. “The lifeguard found him floating face down, his rubber duck float at the bottom of the deep end.”

I told him what had happen to me and by the end of my tale we had both withdrawn our legs from the water and moved several feet back to the bleachers. Uneasy, we left. On our way out, we both heard a deep gravelly chuckle from the mouth of the pool. I think we both walked away a little more quickly after we heard it.

To this day I haven’t returned to the pool and coach Frankie refuses to go alone. Sometimes I still pass the pool, though, and when I do I can hear that evil gravelly chuckle. The haunting laugh is always followed by the rumble of a large empty stomach and this brings relief for I know the pool has gone hungry.