Echoes From the Abyss: Chapter One

A new series where YOU decide what happens next!

Image: Virginia Marinova via Unsplash+

Welcome to Echoes of the Abyss, a new experimental mini-series on the Writer’s Journey where you, the reader, will decide what happens next in the story.

You’ll find a poll at the end of this chapter, with two options. Cast your vote, and check back soon for Chapter 2 to see how the story progresses!

Each poll will be open for 48 hours or until it reaches 100 votes, whichever comes first. Enjoy!

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I promised myself I would never go back. Wilmont, that sleepy coastal town in the northeast. Nestled somewhere between Massachusetts and infinity. Perched on the edge of endless waves and always steeped in a thick layer of fog, regardless of the season.

It always felt empty, but this time it was truly deserted. Seemingly overnight, nearly half of the town’s population vanished without a trace.

I stood on the beach, looking out into the pale waves as I knelt down and took a handful of the coarse white sand into my palm. In front of me, hundreds of footprints led down towards the water.

The visions came hard and fast as I held the sand in my palm, fueled by a night more eventful for the small town than the last thousand before it.

Somber footsteps

Heavy, labored breathing

A watery shriek

Absolute silence

Crushing depths

Questions swirl like whirlpools

Prison, punishment, or penance?

The vision faded as quickly as it came, ending right when the last grain of sand fell from my open hand. I stood up and stared out into that empty horizon. A lone fishing ship bobbed along the edge of my view.

"Agent Philips I presume?"

I spun around and saw a short, stocky man standing on the beach behind me. His thick eyebrows furrowed as he stared up at me. His tan uniform and polished gold badge told me he was from out of town.

"You can just call me Reyna," I said.

"Sounds good Reyna, I'm Bill by the way. I'm the sheriff in the next town over, but with everyone up and vanished, the powers that be have decided to extend my jurisdiction."

The sheriff extended his arm for a handshake. I hated this part. I grasped his clammy palm only briefly, but the visions came like bolts of lightning in my mind.

Too much aftershave.

The sweet aroma of fresh donuts

Bitter coffee, no sugar.

Memories of her, long gone.

Fake smile.

Real fear.

The sheriff looked out into the eerie sight, his eyes scanning the footprints that still remained from the night before.

“What’s your jurisdiction again?” the sheriff asked.

The entirety of the Synaptic Sprawl. A nearly infinite number of parallel universes.

“I’m from a national agency,” I said.

He nodded. “Oh, so like the FBI or something? Listen, I don’t want to get in your way or anything, but do you have some kind of badge or ID I can see? It’s just protocol. Can’t be too careful.”

No, you cannot.

I reached into my jacket pocket, knowing there was nothing there. I brandished my empty hand, palm facing outward. Sheriff Bill leaned in, squinting as if he was trying to read something.

"Oh yeah, FBI, I was right! That's a nice photo of you, by the way."

I pretended to place the non-existent badge back into my jacket pocket. The weak-minded ones were always easiest to fool. He saw what he wanted to see.

The sheriff looked back down at the footprints in the sand. They led straight to the water’s edge. "It's almost like they just walked into the ocean.”

That's exactly what happened.

"Have you ever seen anything like this before?" He asked.

"Not in these numbers," I said.

The sheriff looked back over to me with a narrowed gaze. “But you have seen people walk into the ocean before?”

Shouldn’t have said that.

“You see a lot of strange things in my line of work, sheriff. I’m sure you understand.”

The sheriff nodded. “Yeah, of course. It’s just like those some of those TV shows where FBI agents investigate weird stuff. You know, I bet those are based on real events too, huh?”

I had to hold back a laugh. You have no idea how right you are.

I turned back to the sheriff, eager to end the conversation. "I trust you'll keep this from the public eye while I conduct my investigation?"

The sheriff nodded. "Of course, I'll be at the police station in town if you need me."

A flash of memories came back to me. I saw a building that also housed the fire department and the local library. With less than a thousand people calling Wilmont home, almost all of the town's infrastructure was confined to a single block.

"I was told you would also arrange accommodations for me?" I asked.

The sheriff chuckled as he reached into his shirt pocket and produced a motel key. The faded plastic key chain swung beneath, bearing a simple logo of an anchor with a tentacle wrapped around it.

"You won't find any of the big chains here, unfortunately, but Mabel runs the Anchor Inn, and I'm sure you'll find it as cozy as I do," The sheriff said with a tired smile.

I'm sure it's cozy for those who aren't familiar with its sordid history.

“Oh, that reminds me, Franklin Winters over at the hardware store in town said he saw something strange yesterday around sundown. He called the station, but wouldn’t talk about it over the phone. I figured you should know.”

"Thank you sheriff, I'll give you a call if I need anything," I said, looking back out into the crashing waves.

"Sounds good, Reyna. I'll expect a report on my desk by Friday!" The sheriff said with a wink.

I let out a polite chuckle and watched as the heavyset man hobbled back across the beach towards his dusty vehicle. I turned away from the road and looked back out into the ocean.

It was hard to keep the visions at bay. There were emotions tied to the ground, the water, the very air, all pounding against the walls of my mind. It had been over a year since I broke apart from the rest, but part of me knew coming back here would tear open old wounds.

It’s incredible. None of the others remember a single thing about what happened here all those years ago.

Insanity was always close by, ready to swoop in and embrace my mind the moment I let all the thoughts in.

The hotel wouldn't be any better, but I had to get away from that beach. Most people would only hear the distant crash of the waves, but me?

All I could hear were the water-logged screams of the townspeople who willingly shuffled their way into that watery abyss.

Only one questioned remained, and it would form the crux of my investigation:

Why?

Answers, whether I wanted them or not, would come with time. I was exhausted from the drive. I could head straight to the hotel and get some rest, or I could go talk to the man at the hardware store who claimed he saw something.

Time was of the essence. The ritual had already begun.

Time to choose…

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What Happens Next is up to You!

Time to decide! Use the poll below to vote on which path Agent Philips should take next! Remember, time is precious. Both decisions will have consequences…

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