Ready for a shiver?
Humanoids have been seen in the waters outside of Antarctica. These cryptids were supposedly seen by the Japanese and named "Ningen."
Here's the story: They are humanoid in appearance and can be as long as 100 feet. Some refer to them as "arctic mermaids."
They are reported to have a mermaid-like fin in the rear and arms and human body look to it including a human-like shaped head.
Well, there is Lake Vostok in Antarctica. It lays about 13,000 feet under the ice of Antarctica with freshwater and recently was drilled into and found simple sea creatures living there that have never seen light or exposure to the ocean, growing completely in isolation in this most hostile environment. Could a large mammal be part of the seas around Antarctica? Certainly, just look at Sea Lions and whales.
Enjoy this fictionalized flash horror short story by me incorporating a possible scenario -
"I'm spending a week in Cabo and I bet my bones are still frozen!" Spit the videographer on the ship's deck.
Hank, the producer, leaned over the railing as he thought for sure he was about to spew the paltry bit of oatmeal he downed that morning. The arctic air was becoming familiar to him. Perhaps he was becoming half iceman, but the cold felt good on his sweaty face as he fought the everlasting bouts of seasickness.
The ship hoisted upwards over yet another wave and slammed down.
"Why the fuck is he cutting through the waves and taking the hard way? Why not go parallel?" Hank whimpered.
The videographer laughed. "Hank, the waves are coming at all angles. Pick your wave, dude, we're gonna have to take it on."
Hank lifted his head to observe the icy gray waves. A giant iceberg they had been paralleling created a mint colored underground world where he could see sea lions frolicking up and down into the depths of frozen water.
"They're cute." The videographer noted and pulled out his camera from its case.
"Sure, when they're 50 yards away." Hank swallowed against the rising saliva, willing himself to keep the oatmeal down long enough to have it nourish his weak body. "Where were these guys when we were filming over in the Russian's territory? And look at that one - he's so big he scared the others away." He pointed.
The videographer lifted his head. The sea lions scattered, cutting through the water like torpedoes from a giant one that erupted from the ice cave below and popped to the surface with a loud swoosh.
"What the hell is that?" The videographer pointed. "That's no fucking sea lion!"
Hank squinted against the glare of light against the ice and water. It appeared pale and enormous. It's rare fin slapped the water and then an inconceivably long arm swung into the air and splashed down on the water, cutting through it, propelling the creature a good 50 feet.
"F-film it!" Hank gripped the railing.
The videographer lifted the camera, his gloved fingers not working on the buttons. He had to yank one off with his teeth and try to get the camera started and suddenly everything on it looks unfamiliar. His heart raced, his mind raced faster. Instinctively, his fingers found the red button and he began to film.
The creature's huge dorsal fin flipped up in the air and it dove down. They studied the waters frantically and it resurfaced not 20 yards away heading in the same direction as their ship. Its head sprang up, pale against the glinting sunlight and rounded with what looked like a neck and shoulders. The camera shook and the filmographer clipped it to his vest to try and keep his hands free so he wouldn't fall over as they took on another unexpected wave. Just as he lifted his head, an arm erupted from the gray waters and made a full circle, its reach taller than the masts on the ship. When it slammed into the water, it sent a rippling wave their way and the roar was so loud, Hank covered his ears. Once again, the dorsal fin went skyward and it dove down.
"Hey!" The videographer screamed to one of the ship's hands. "What is that?"
The man came over and braced himself at the railing. "You saw the arctic mermaid?"
"We're doing a nature documentary and no one told us about such a creature." Hank roared just as his belly clenched and he ran to the other side of the ship, away from the wind to vomit downwind. He emptied the contents of his stomach efficiently, the sore muscles in his belly making him hold his breath to regain his strength. Without missing a beat, he came back to the others.
The videographer was filming the beast as it slammed another arm down and dove down into the ice cave below the surface of the berg.
"They call him Ningen." The worker said. "We see them rarely but when we do, they put on a show." Just then the ship started a series of stuttering waves left in the wake of the beast. "That place in the berg," the worker pointed, "we call those holes Ningen's den."
**For a collection of my short stories, check out "Don't Go There! A Flash Horror Anthology" where every story is timed so you know how long it'll take to read depending on your time constraints and the variety of many dozens of short stories cover the gamut of every horror subject possible with a special features section in the end that has short nonfiction stories of me being alone in places no one wants to be alone in. This is available in paperback on Amazon and Kindle (link above).**
**Tomorrow's post is about Phantom Islands!**