On Deck



You know how animals always seem to be able to tell what's going on, long before their owners figure out what is happening? I am writing this in my basement, and am quite literally fearing for my life. Since I have nothing left to live for, I figured that I should write this.

I live on the Isle of Wight. Specifically, I live in East Cowes. It's a medium-sized town, but its population fluctuates dramatically because of the arrival of the Red Funnel ferries, which carries tourists and residents from the mainland to the island and back. My house's living room looks out over the Cowes harbour, where the boats arrive. It's quite a relaxing sight, witnessing the frequent, quiet hum of the engines at the dock. I thought that here, on an island away from the coast with a more than adequate police force, nothing could get onto the Isle of Wight which would be that serious of a threat. I thought wrong.

Two weeks ago, my cat, Archie, started carrying out some strange sort of 'ritual', as I call it. At exactly 10:30 PM, he jumped onto the windowsill of my living room, walked behind the curtains, and started staring out into the harbour. I figured that something to do with the town aroused his attention—here, we have many clubs and pubs, so revelers aren't exactly rare—and he simply wanted to watch. At first, I could calm him down by attracting him back off the windowsill by showing him his food or stroking him; but eventually he'd pretty much remain affixed to the window, stuck in an astounded gaze. One week after he started, I tried to lift him off the windowsill, but he lashed out at me. I tried five minutes later, and he extended his claws into the wooden windowsill. Afraid of hurting his paws, I backed off.

I forgot to mention this earlier, but his ritual always ends ten minutes after it begins. He then jumps off the windowsill and behaves like normal, coming over and snuggling up to me.

I decided to consult the local ferry timetable to see if any change in the routine would have led to my cat's behaviour. To my interest, I noticed that they had added an extra slot for the arrival of the car ferry, an arrival at 10:30. Which, would coincide with the start of my pet's strange behaviour; and it would leave at 10:40, which is, as I previously said, when his behaviour turns back to normal.

Yesterday is when things got really strange. An entire family of people who lived a couple of doors down the street from me disappeared. When the police came to investigate; they found no signs of forced entry, no blood, and no signs of a robbery. It would seem that the people inside the house simply 'evaporated', without a trace. To add to the mystery, a Rolex watch was found on the kitchen floor. It was frozen in place at 10:41 PM. Adding this to my knowledge of my cat's antics whenever the new arrival and departure slot came around, I decided that there was only one thing for it. I had to try and witness whatever Archie saw, or whatever was making him so unusual. As I expected, he hopped up onto the windowsill, and gazed out of the window at the exact time as before. This time, I sat on the windowsill next to him, and looked out of the window at the same point which his eyes were affixed to.

All I saw was simply the Red Falcon ferry, which was now berthed. Its bow doors were open, and the cars on board were beginning to file off the vessel. Strangely, around ten of the cars which were on board did not leave until the first cars began to board the vessel for the outbound departure. When they did leave, they left clumsily, bashing into the fenders of each car in front.

I then decided to wait until after the ferry had departed, then look up Red Funnel's official website. The Red Falcon ferry has a set of webcams on top of the bridge which allows website users to see the action on the upper decks as the ferry travels between terminals. I knew it was far too late and too dark for most people to be on the upper decks. I know I certainly wouldn't want to be out in the chilling night air. I noticed that from the southbound webcam, a group of youths were standing in a circle near the railings, appearing to be laughing and joking about something. Judging by the wake, the ferry was en-route to Southampton. Suddenly, the webcam became clouded with a strange mist. Given that the night-vision mode was in use for the webcam, I am not sure what the actual colour of the mist was, because it simply appeared white from my computer screen.

The images updated, and then I noticed that this time, the youths had turned around to face the camera. It was too blurry to see their faces. Afraid, I took a screen capture of the image, then shut down my computer, and decided to call it a night. I made sure to bolt and lock my door, before switching off the lights and going to my bedroom.

I think that something horrible is about to happen, and I'm next. Today, more people went missing, but it wasn't just a family. An entire street of people disappeared in the same fashion as the family who dissipated yesterday.

It was then that I decided to move my computer, Archie, and myself into the basement. I locked the door, and kept all the lights switched off. I had no watch, so I wasn't sure how long I was down there. It seemed like an infinite amount of time passed, and I eventually fell asleep. I woke up suddenly when I heard a familiar, yet now haunting noise. The purr of the ferry's engines roused Archie, and he ran to the door, and hissed at it. He rooted his claws into the rough carpet, and went silent. Then I heard it. A sound which now is associated with the most terrifying moment in my life so far. A quiet, breathing noise. It sounded like someone—or something—trying to remain hidden. The door's handle shook until it broke, clattering over the floor.

Then, IT entered. It looked vaguely human, but its fingernails had advanced into talon-esque claws. It had no eyes, no nose, and no visible ears; yet there were no sockets devoid of the visual organs. It was as if its eyes had never existed. Archie lashed out with his claws at the creature, but it simply shrugged it off. It then looked down, with its head tilted slightly to the left...

...He stabbed Archie through his poor heart, using those demoniacal talons. In horror, my eyes were drawn to its face. A long, thin smirk formed on its otherwise featureless face as it watched the life-fluid flow over the contours of its hand and then drip onto the floor. It looked as if it were enjoying removing the last vestiges of life from my beloved pet. I wept for what seemed like hours, before it walked back through my door—with the bloodied carcass still in its hand—and disappeared. I looked up, and the door's handle had been seemingly replaced, as if nothing had ever happened.

It was then that I realised the horror that the Island was now to face: for years, we Vectians have had a foolish idea that ten miles from any main ports, we were immune from any shambling horrors the mainland could possess. Instead, we should have looked closer, for we are to be obliterated by something which can never leave this island's shores. I must hope that those monstrous beings do not return, but even now, my hope has been long since lost.

I'm now alone. Without Archie's perception of them, I will have no idea when another one of those creatures will come next. I sit, trembling with only the light of my laptop and the humming of the deep freezer to keep me company. So...soothing. Perhaps, fate will be kind to me, and lull me into a sleep from which I shall never return. However, I know that the creatures shall not leave me. Their delight in my death has not been sated.

''This article has been obtained from a Word Document retrieved from the HDD of a laptop computer, found in the basement of a house on Castle Street, East Cowes. Like several other houses in the area, it was seemingly found empty, even though there are no signs of any intervention or foul play. In addition, a screen capture was also discovered, and has been grouped with the article as evidence for the ongoing investigation into a growing spate of missing people.''