This is starting to turn into a horror and mystery show. I would love to read of it or watch it but not live it. Fuck, the ocean voyage is getting in the horror genre.

  I am not a scardey cat by any means, but this scene is just eerie. All I could see around me were barnacles, buggers, some empty patches and a slopes. No sign of predator or at least one much much higher in the food chain. Neither are there are any organisms that could bleed this much. So how did this get so much blood that it became a yer.

  I might not be a forensic specialist but blood is never this thick or makes a yer when fresh. I could see the yer form after a long time with enough blood. But who would have that much blood to make such a sticky yer? A normal person could not even cover a tenth of this yer.

  I hesitated. The more I touched it, the more wrong it felt. Thick, unnatural. Gnarly. My fingers hovered over the surface before I finally pulled—just a little. The yer came off in chunks. It wasn’t just blood. It had _pieces_ in it. Chunks of… something. Flesh, perhaps.

  It felt like someone had blended a organism, bones and flesh whole, and made a yer. Fucking hell, which sick abomination did this? Hunting and feasting on the carcass I can understand but leaving a blood yer like this. This is a sickening job of an even sickening being.

  Few questions comes to mind after seeing his. What did this? How did it do this? Why did it do this? Am I in its menu? Will this blood yer be my fate? Can this blood yer be useful to me in someway?

  I have no answers for the first few questions, but the st one? I intend to find out.

  'This is going to be disgusting', I muttered in my head. I peeled off some of the blood yer. There were even more deep inside and they were harder to pull out. The ones I did pull out were a bit slimy and sticky but still retively wet. It almost felt like blood stopped in the process of clotting but did it jobs anyways. Almost like jelly but an slimier and stickier version.

  I can't just rely on my hands to dig through the yer. My crippled right hand has just started to form scab. Using it unwisely might make it start healing once more, losing me precious resource to survive. While I could use my left hand for it, going so deep inside this yers might be counterproductive. I need to use some sort of stick to poke the yers.

  And lucky for me. I can see tens and twenty of them feasting on the blood yer. I surveyed them, all of them and chose the one with the biggest pointy edges. Not to repeat my previous mistakes, I grabbed it from front and the back holding on to the smaller edges.

  And I pulled. This bugger had made quite a hole on the blood yer. A finger big hole. It was like a inch and a half deep and I could see the yer go from dark red to the darkest red I have ever seen even in the cold, starlit night. The lower yer was so thick that it could make blood suckers jealous.

  What can make blood so condensed, so thick that it is almost pitch bck? Why does this blood yer feel of the eerie kind of supernatural?

  Fuck, I know I shouldn't do this. My instinct were shouting. I could feel a chill, not from the cold breeze but from something inside me. As they say curiosity killed the cat, I wanted to know what the lower yer was made of. The curiosity in me wanted to know. I wanted to know how deep the nightmare goes.

  I wanted answers even if I will be damned.

  So, I did the most logical thing a man has ever done. I poked it. I poked it with my left index finger. I could feel the stickiness go away to being non sticky in the middle to slimy in the end. A little more fingering at the bottom and I could feel my fingers touch something moist, something wet, as if I touched a surface of some kind.

  I couldn't pierce the surface, no matter how hard I poked it. It felt like hard jelly. So, I started scrapping it with my nails. I could feel some of the yer get under my fingernails. I scrapped a little more knowing that I am close to an answer. Then my finger felt moist and I could smell an irony scent for just a moment before it dissipated with the air.

  I took out my finger hoping I could see what was beyond the jelly surface. Just then, reddish bck liquid flowed out of the hole. I could tell it was blood. Far more bck and red than what was humanely possible. I could see it gush out. It came out slowly. Moving not like water but something more viscous. It didn't flow down the slope, no it went upwards the slope towards the colony of buggers, something scientifically impossible.

  All the buggers that were left feasting on the blood yer quickly discarded their feeding spot and rush towards the overflowing blood. I could even see the bugger in my hand squirming. I hadn't seen any of the buggers squirm so hard when I pulled them out of my leg.

  It almost looked like moth attracted to the sun. They are dead when they touch it, but they try. The blood was attracting the buggers. It was defying physics, yes but it created an eerie sense of something wicked, something unknown.

  The buggers stayed still when they touched the blood. The ones who touched the stream of blood froze in their pces. No squirming, no movement, no nothing. The blood started to climb atop the bugger. No, it was wrapping the bugger. Not just one, all of them that were touched by the blood.

  The blood was sentient. The blood was alive. I could feel it.

  It attracted the buggers to feast on it and it feasted on them. I watched it, as it slowly wrapped every single buggers there was. There was no struggle that I could see in the viscous blood flow. All I could see were some bulges that were the buggers wrapped with blood. The blood was feasting on them.

  I could see the bulges get smaller and smaller at an incredible rate. And when the bulges got to the blood stopped moving upwards.

  I could see the blood move back. I could see the blood start to move down the slope. I could see it leave the artificial rectangle and nd on the ground. It didn't fall drop by drop to the ground. It fell like jam, no break in its flow. Just like a viscous liquid. It was slow, but it was coming.

  The blood was moving, engulfing whatever id in its path. And it was coming towards me. I moved a few step behind and nded on an bugger. I didn't fall but I could see every step backwards, there was a bugger. I could see hundreds, if not thousands of bugger come to the blood, attracted to it.

  The blood wanted buggers and I id right between it. So, I stepped aside. The blood divided itself in two stream, one for the bugger and another for me. Hell, I could even see the buggers near me come for me.

  Fuck, why the hell are both of them coming after me? The blood, I can bme some supernatural stuff. I could even bme the bugger I have in my hand. For the buggers, I have no idea and I don't believe that they care so much for their brethren in my arm.

  I threw the bugger in the blood wave and it engulfed it. The blood stopped moving towards me. I could see it change its movement towards the bugger that were charging towards me. Every bugger it went near to, all of them walked straight to it to met an silent fate. The blood was never after me, it was for the little snack littered all around.

  And I could see the wave feasting on the thousands of moths walking straight towards it.

  I am a hundred and a few tens of steps away from the artificial thing, my target on the voyage watching the blood wave feasting as the top dog on the food chain. It was horrifying.

  It was unnatural.

  It was… beautiful.

  It was true.

  This is my reality now. The answer to an unsolved and unspoken question.

  A step closer to Lovecraft. A step closer to insanity. A step closer to thriving.

  A step away from death.

  The world has gotten more and more insane. I need to match it or get engulfed by it like the buggers. Logic has no pce, not in this world, not in this pce. Logic in me shouts, screams run away, far away. Anywhere but here. Anywhere to survive. But where can I run?

  Back to the barnacles, away from the blood wave. Far away from answers? Fuck answers. Fuck everything.

  This world is insane. I need to match it. No, I need to exceed it.

  What is insanity if not survival’s evolution? If the world is madness, then sanity is a weakness. A fw. A death sentence.

  If I cling to reason, I will break.

  If I fight against the tide, I will drown.

  So, I will accept it.

  Logic be damned. Survival be damned. Answers be damned.

  Here, Madness is the answer. It is the question.

  Oo, How much I want to smile at this world. How much I want to ugh at this world and all its insanity.

  So I did.

  I ughed. I ughed at all the sanity left in this world. I ughed at myself. I ughed at the absurdity of it all. I ughed at nothing.

  And I smiled for myself and this world.

  The world was insane. Time to match it.

  My legs took a step forward and another. I didn't tiptoe. Hesitation, I forgo it. My legs were running.

  I should be terrified. I should be running in the opposite direction. But fear has done nothing for me except slow me down. Fear is the leash that keeps prey from thinking beyond survival. And if I stay prey, I will die.

  So I ran as fast as I could to the source. The source of the blood.

  I stepped on bugger, they gave me cuts. It didn't matter. I stepped on the blood, I fell.. It didn't matter.

  I crawled. I stood. I walked. I ran.

  I don't care of the cuts, nor that I stepped on the bugger. I don't care if the blood engulfed me. I had nothing else to care.

  I reached the source. It was flowing with blood. A wound in the world itself, bleeding endlessly, gushing with something far beyond life, beyond comprehension.

  I cwed at it. Nails scraping, fingers sinking, tearing away at whatever y at the heart. Chunks came loose, wet and pulsing.

  I cwed at the source. I shouldn't touch it. I shouldn't touch it. I touched it.

  I bit into the wound. I tasted iron. I tasted... something.

  I tasted understanding.

  Do I go this deep into insanity? The st scraps of logic whispered.

  I ughed.

  I bit again.

  I chewed. I swallowed.

  It tasted of everything and nothing.

  It tasted like a secret the world never wanted me to know.

  Logic had left me the moment I stepped into this world. Reason had been a fool's dream the moment I resisted. There was no logic, no reason. There was only instinct. Survival. Madness. Insanity.

  I felt insane. I was insane. I am becoming insane.

  The world had a abyss in it. It was staring at me. I was staring at it.

  The abyss wanted me to blink. The abyss wanted me to blink.The abyss wanted me to blink.The abyss couldn't make me blink.

  I have to say the few chapters that are coming are kind of my favorite to write. It has horror and is vital to the future plot line. So, if you feel that the writing quality needs improvement , do inform me. I will do my best to improve it. The fun part or rather the Lovecraft part, you get a glimpse of it.

  That said, leave a review, make it a favorite, be a reader.

  Peace out, Author.