Owen McCuen

As I knelt trying to gain some equilibrium, my hand pressing on the floor felt strange.

I looked down and saw that it had entered the floor a quarter of an inch.

I yanked my hand out and jumped to my feet, but they also sank into the pulpy texture.

When I reached for the ladder to climb back on deck, the rubbery steps bent under my grip and sagged to a breaking point as I scrambled up.

Everyone was huddled together.

Tammy ran to me.

She wrapped her arms around me, her pained face pleading for answers as she pointed to her feet sinking into the now slimy fiberglass.

I did have one.

But to say it made it too real, and I didn't want it to be real.

I wanted it to be all mistakes, a jumble of mistakes that wouldn't end being what I thought.

What I wanted, however, no longer mattered, as I heard a noise behind us.

Grace was the first to scream.

I heard Tim call from near the bow.

Tyler fell back against the steering wheel and it spun, carrying him to the deck.

Tammy looked behind me and simply shoved her face into my chest.

I turned and felt myself squeezing Tammy like someone trying to hide her inside my body.

I squeezed harder as I saw the mass had become misshapen, no longer stiff aluminum, but now a waving tentacle.

The front of the boat shed its white veneer and had become a writhing mass of flesh.

Tim started rushing forward but sank into the throbbing goo.

He lay imprisoned, staring at us, his lips moving in words I couldn't hear.