I think something bad happened to my best friend.
I don’t really like talking about this - not only because it brings up terrible memories but also because I don’t know if it’s real. I still can’t tell if anything from that day is real.
My best friend at the time, let’s call him Jackson, was always very adventurous - much more so than I could ever be. To be fair, there wasn’t much to do in our small coastal town in Nova Scotia, but it was summer break - the last one before we left elementary school - so we were forced to make the best of it.
Our favorite game was called Treasure Hunt. We would search the beach for the most unique thing, and after ten minutes, whoever’s “treasure” was more interesting would win the game. It was my favorite not just because I usually won, but because the beach was filled with random items that constantly washed up - shells, garbage, and if you paid close attention, sometimes crystals and other strange rocks.
Now, we were both strong swimmers but wary of getting too close to the shoreline. Even though the best treasures were found right along the waterline, the waves were dangerous, and we were always told stories about kids drowning from riptides (though even back then, I suspected it was exaggerated).
I remember this particular day being quite boring. Jackson and I were walking around, thinking of ways to make our summer more memorable. I wanted to play Treasure Hunt as usual, but he wanted to find something else (he was probably tired of losing). Seeing as he had no other ideas, we resorted to our familiar game.
We started off like usual - I was scouring the beach, trying my best to find any shiny rocks to win quickly. I looked back and saw Jackson checking near the shoreline. I remember thinking he must have been getting desperate. I kept looking. A few minutes later, I glanced over, and he had taken his shirt off and was now swimming in the water wearing just his basketball shorts. I started getting nervous but was determined to win so we could move on to something else.
That’s when I heard it - a sound like a whale call but much, much lower and definitely not normal. I don’t know how to explain this next part, but the closest I can come is that the water began to shake. Not just a small area, but the entire ocean. I was absolutely terrified by this point. I screamed at Jackson to get out of the water, but he just stood there. I kept screaming and screaming, but it was like he was deaf. And then something even stranger happened - he started walking into the ocean.
I was having a full-blown panic attack at this point. I wanted to rush in but was paralyzed by fear. I wasn’t sure what was happening, but I knew it wasn’t normal. The ocean isn’t supposed to shake, and weird sounds like that aren’t supposed to come out of the ocean. And yet here it was. The sound changed to a low-pitched wail as Jackson walked farther from the shore. I could feel my skin trembling and sweating. And that was when I saw it: something emerged out of the water just enough to be visible. At first, it looked like a massive pile of flesh as far as the eye could see - slimy and brown. I thought it was a dead whale. But then, right in the middle, a piece of the skin started shifting until it blinked. A giant eye, right in the center, had opened and was directly staring at me. It made another sound. This time, I was hit by a migraine so strong I couldn’t stand. I looked back again, but whatever had emerged was now gone.
Jackson never looked back; he just kept walking until his head disappeared under the surface. As soon as it did, everything stopped - not just the shaking but the sounds too. I slowly walked towards the ocean. I didn’t know if whatever made those sounds was still there, but I walked slowly. I called out to Jackson, but there was no response.
I wanted to check the water and see if he was still there, but I’m ashamed to say I couldn’t muster up the courage. I walked home, hoping that everything had been a bad dream.
A few days later, the police came to our house and asked me a few questions. Apparently, Jackson hadn’t come home. I told them that the last time I saw him was when he went for a swim. I didn’t know how to explain what I had seen. Rather, I didn’t know if they would throw me in with the crazies.
I never saw Jackson again.