Kraken: The True Story of the Sea Witch
This story is based somewhat on the Hans Christian Anderson Little Mermaid, but also on the Disney version.
Chapter I:
An Introduction
"Beyond this stood the Witch's house, in the centre of a strange forest, in which all the trees and flowers were polypi, half animals and half plants; they looked like serpents with a hundred heads growing out of the ground. The branches were long slimy arms, with fingers like flexible worms, moving limb after limb from the root to the top. All that could be reached in the sea they seized upon, and held fast, so that it never escaped from their clutches. The little mermaid was so alarmed at what she saw, that she stood still, and her heart beat with fear, and she was very nearly turning back; but she thought of the prince, and of the human soul for which she longed, and her courage returned. She fastened her long flowing hair round her head, so that the polypi might not seize hold of it. She laid her hands together across her bosom, and then she darted forward as a fish shoots through the water, between the supple arms and fingers of the ugly polypi, which were stretched out on each side of her. She saw that each held in its grasp something it had seized with its numerous little arms, as if they were iron bands. The white skeletons of human beings who had perished at sea, and had sunk down into the deep waters, skeletons of land animals, oars, rudders, and chests of ships were lying tightly grasped by their clinging arms; even a little mermaid, whom they had caught and strangled; and this seemed the most shocking of all to the little princess."
-"The Little Mermaid", Hans Christian Anderson
This is a story that begins and ends in the sea. It is not what you would call a happy story, so it is perhaps appropriate that I begin it in the deepest depths of the ocean, where no sunlit reaches, and all is cold blackness.
This far below the warm, sunlit waters is as unlike anything, that you, happy reader, can possibly comprehend. To describe to you the crushing blackness which is my home, is something akin to describing light to a man who has been born blind. But useless though it may be, I shall try anyway, for in my arrogance I believe that mine is a story that ought to be told.
Down here dwell creatures that have never experienced the warm motherly touch of sunlight. They are wretched, blind and terrifying enough to drive one mad if they were seen in the light of day. In my musings I believe that this is why we are relegated to the cold depths, because creatures such as ourselves are a blight, and affront to all life, a sin, that must be hidden, like squirming things under a rock.
You who live in the light cannot understand the utter absence of it, for even your blackest nights are penetrated by the light of the moon and the stars. Believe me though, when I say that darkness like this is absolute. It is a living, breathing, malignant thing that wraps itself around you, covering your eyes, stopping your ears, filling the mouth and lungs and stilling the heart.
This place I call home. It is the only home that would have me, for if, in my speech, I have given you any reason to believe me different from the creatures that dwell here, you are sorely mistaken. This is where I belong. When I was sent down here, so many years ago, the darkness enveloped me in itself cold arms like a friend; loving and needing.
I am a creature of legend; the stuff of sailor's stories, the discourse of their fearful musings, as they drift through lonely, haunted waters. You might have heard my name before; perhaps in a volume of tales of the supernatural. Perhaps your father, or grandfather is a seafaring man, who fascinated and terrified you with tales of me. Maybe you are one of those who claim to have seem me, one of the many liars who barter falsehoods for a pint of something strong. Or maybe you really have seen me; seen my terrible eye peering up at you out of the cold depths.
You might have heard my name before; they call me Kraken.