Table of Contents

Chapter One: Lake–Mist’s Restoration

Chapter Two: Trapped!

Chapter Three: A Troubled Soul

Chapter Four: Breathtaking

Chapter Five: Mysterious New World

Chapter Six: The Abyss

Chapter Seven: Jasmine’s Discovery

Chapter Eight: Separated!

Chapter Nine: Corpses and Clashes

Chapter Ten: A Small Mercy

Chapter Eleven: Sarah Meets the General

Chapter Twelve: The Threatening Caller

Chapter Thirteen: Sam’s Narrow Escape

Chapter Fourteen: General Sabaoth

Chapter Fifteen: French Toast and Pancakes!

Epilogue:

Connect With the Author:

Other Works by This Author:

Audiobooks on various audiobook retailers:

Under the Ocean (Original — Revised 2020)

By Ian King

© 2021 Tektime Publishing

First published on Amazon 2013

This revised edition published, 2020

Tektime Edition – Copyright © 2013 Ian King.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner. This is a work of fiction. Names and characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

If you have enjoyed this eBook, please return to the place you purchased it and view some more of the authors work. Oh, and reviews are more than welcome, in fact: encouraged.

N.B. from author. If you are wondering why this is called ”Under the Ocean (Original)”, It is because this was my original version that I wrote in ’third person’,before I converted it into ’first–person version’, which is also available. I hope you enjoy it.

Table of Content:

Chapter One: Lake–Mist’s Restoration

Chapter Two: Trapped!

Chapter Three: A Troubled Soul

Chapter Four: Breathtaking

Chapter Five: Mysterious New World

Chapter Six: The Abyss

Chapter Seven: Jasmine’s Discovery

Chapter Eight: Separated!

Chapter Nine: Corpses and Clashes

Chapter Ten: A Small Mercy

Chapter Eleven: Sarah Meets the General

Chapter Twelve: The Threatening Caller

Chapter Thirteen: Sam’s Narrow Escape

Chapter Fourteen: General Sabaoth

Chapter Fifteen: French Toast and Pancakes!

Epilogue:

Connect With the Author:

Other Books by This Author:

Audiobooks by This Author

Chapter One: Lake–Mist’s Restoration

Tonight, the girls and their brother were sleeping in the caravan. It had been a long time coming, as dad had worked hard on the old, fit for dumping caravan, for quite a few weeks. It was a big job, and if you had seen it back in September (the caravan), you would have given up on her right then, but no! Dad had a vision! He saw something where no one else could and where nothing else but rot, existed. A bit of blood, sweat and tears is all it needed; apart from the new wall panels, new shelving, that wasn’t all bubbled and blistered. Also, it needed new floorboards and even new couches (which were clever and transformed into beds). Yep! It all needed to be dealt with, majorly!

No one would ever have survived a night in those bumpy old torture slabs, without waking with aches and pains from head to toe. That was all before Dads mastery had taken place.

All he needed to do today was fit in the new wardrobe, the three–way fridge and then put in the new soft cushions; the ones mum had picked out at Arthur’s Emporium last week. They were made from a plush deep–blue velvet material, fresh and royal–looking. The old stinker slabs that had rotted, (what hadn’t?) and had previously filled the caravan with nothing less than the mustiest smells around the entire bay, Stingray Bay. Now (and fortunately), they found their new home in the nearby dump.

“As soon as I get ‘Lake-mist’ finished (that is what Dad had tenderly named the caravan), you can spend the first night in it kids.” Dad made a promise a couple of weeks ago and the children eagerly anticipated its fulfillment. They would have slept in it a month ago but Dad wanted it to be absolutely completed, before they were allowed to. Perhaps, that is why he had the couch–beds finished last.

“Dad, can I make you a cuppa?” Jasmine would chant daily, in her innocent soprano voice; she considered herself to be a top restaurant waitress.

Sam wanted Dad to finish ‘Lake-mist’ now and tried constantly to lend a hand. Even if it wasn’t needed, or wanted – more to the point! He brought tools and panels, whatever Dad required. “Here you are Dad. Is there anything else I can get you?” His steely–blue eyes would always penetrate and probe for an answer. “Here’s the hammer. Is there anything else you need?” Often, Sam would receive nothing but a grunt from his busy father. Still, he didn’t mind.

“How long is it going to take?” Sarah complained incessantly. “When will you be finished?” The three kids drove Dad nuts, by not leaving him alone for a moment. However, today was the big day and the excited children chatted while playing close by, with the anticipation rushing through their veins of their soon to happen escapade, in the ’Lake-mist’. Now at last, everything was finished.

The new and improved caravan gleamed in the sunshine on the lawn behind the house. It was an eighteen–footer, painted aqua–blue on the top half and silver on the bottom. The two colours made it look like a sleek space station. The entrance was set to the right of the middle, where the axles stood firm on its pair of shiny–black, round feet. The windows were large and slightly convex, which repelled the ultra–violet light with a deep–brown tint. The inside was practically laid out, Dad had always been practical.

When the door was opened (or ’air lock’, as the children had affectionately named it), the guests would be welcomed with automatically–lit steps. All eyes were likely to be drawn to the warm brown kitchenette and stainless bench top, which was positioned across on the other side of the plush maroon carpet. The carpet had a soft, homely sensation for the bare feet of its new guests.

Sam – no surprises here – was the first one to dash inside. As he slowed before hitting into the kitchenette, he breathed in deeply the smells of the freshly varnished walls and painted cupboards. It wasn’t unpleasant, it was friendly and carried a sense of adventure about it.

To the left, under the front window of the caravan, there were laid out two long couches, which ran down either side of the cosy cabin, they were set up against the opposite walls. They were, at that time, turned into a big double bed, unmade with the blankets folded neatly at the foot.

The blankets were usually stored inside the cleverly constructed underside lid of the couches, for easy access so when you needed them they were sure to make any night of adventure a comfortable one. It didn’t matter if you were in the backyard, or on a wild trail in the mountains. At least, you would always be warm and dry.

The caravan – or space station – was parked near the cliff’s edge, behind the house. Its perfect position was enough to give it huge appeal for an adventure right there. And because it had been perched on one of the highest cliffs around, it would now let the children see right out of the rear window (and hear) all the way down to the frothing white–capped waves which tumbled and rolled methodically, in and out from Stingray Bay.

It was only a short walk from the end of their lawn to the main sandy access of the beach. When they reached the track, they’d usually follow it down to the left, treading carefully, it was pretty steep and littered with loose stones and rocks.

The thoroughly used stairway to the beach looked like a giant hydro–slide with aged banks and no water, but instead, a sky ceiling. It cut deep through the high cliff and often caused a wind tunnel effect when the chilly southerlies blew inland from the sea.

As the wind chased through the narrow gap it could easily catch anyone who didn’t know about it, unaware. When the kids arrived at the end of the hydro–slide, they only needed to run a short distance and then the cold, refreshing salt water would sneak up and grip their unsuspecting toes and feet, like chilly–ice fingers.

In the early morning, which it wasn’t at the moment, it had been low tide. The children had been on the beach; they often saw the high cliff to the left and imagined it to be a massive ANZAC soldier, stationed in the deep water. His feet would be enveloped up to his ankles and around his stone–like boots there lay, so many scattered rocks looking like cannon balls of various shapes and sizes. They were piled up higgledy–piggledy and he was guarding the bay with his shadow, casting over the track exit to the beach, until nearly 10 am that particular day.

This afternoon – which it then was – the soldier looked dull and blotchy as the sun camouflaged his rustic features with patchy shadows. The high tide came up to his knees and hid the cannon balls from view. The children headed back up the track to see how far Dad had progressed with Lake–mist, besides, the clouds were looking a little black and heavy, threatening rain for the night.

Jasmine was the oldest and she had already organised the midnight feast of biscuits and jelly. Her warm blonde hair was shoulder length, straight and tidy and gently sat around her narrow, cheerful face. Her slight shoulders were in proportion to her tall, skinny frame. She, like the other two, had big–blue eyes and Scandinavian features.

Sarah was the youngest. Her hair grew in crumpled waves and it was shorter, but thicker. It was more like a bird’s nest. She was the blonder of the three and her face was rounder than her sister’s. She had sneaked the bottle of orange juice and had hidden it... the one that Mum had warned them not to touch.

“Do you think Mum will notice it missing?” Sarah whispered to Jasmine.

“I don’t think so,”

“I heard what you said Sarah, and I’m telling Mum that you have pinched the orange juice when we get back inside.” Sam always loved to find ways to stir up the girls.

He was solid, but still a little on the skinny side. His little barrel chest lead up to his rounded head and sun burnt face. He had a dimple on his right cheek when he smiled; all the girls at school thought it was cute. That is why they often tried to make him smile and laugh, which wasn’t very hard to do. His hair was shorter and darker than the girls, bearing a striking resemblance to that of a sun–bleached hedgehog.

“But don’t you want to drink some of this lovely, tasty juice tonight?” Jasmine asked tactfully. “You can even have the first drink, if you want.”

“Ahh, well... yeah. I do want some,” he said after thinking about that for a moment. “Okay, we won’t tell Mum.” It was funny that Sam at first disagreed because he was usually the first one to think up any naughty things to do; however, it was almost as if he was growing up a little and taking more responsibility for what he, or the girls might get up to.

Sam put Sarah in charge of the torch. He was always the bossy one, besides, Sarah seemed to get more scared of the dark than the older two. Nevertheless, she was too excited to be worrying about silly darkness and monsters on this night.

As the evening drew closer, the sky had turned a deep purple like a bruise, and it was thick with big billowing clouds. The air became tangibly weighted, and the family watched as brilliant lightning flashing across the sky, followed by the roaring clap of thunder a few moments later.

“I know how you can tell how far away the thunder is, Sam,” Jasmine declared in her ‘better than thou voice’. These two were always trying to out–do one another. “You –”

“I know too...” Sam butted in as usual. “You count one, one–thousand, two one–thousand then three one–thousand, that’s how.”

“Saaammm!” Jasmine bemoaned in her best whine she could muster. “You’re so rude – you’re always butting in, butt head!” Sam continued, while holding out his pointer finger like a schoolteacher...

“Every time you count, that means that it’s only one mile away. Everyone knows that.” Jasmine let out a frustrated grunt, laced with disapproval and she stomped away in a huff to get the strawberry jelly from the fridge.

In the house, before they went out, they counted as close as ten, one–thousand, the storm was only ten miles away and getting closer!

“Are you three going to be okay in the caravan tonight?” Dad asked sternly, with concern in his voice.

“I’ll look after the girls’ Dad, I’m brave!”

“I’m sure you are Sam, but if someone gets too scared you might have to come inside. Here, take the walkie–talkie with you. I will keep mine on all night... on channel nine, okay? If someone gets too scared, just call me and I will come out and get you.” Dad handed the walkie–talkie to Sam. Dad had never let the children use the walkie–talkie all night long before, although they often used it while Dad was working on Lake–mist, this was a special occasion. He was a nice Dad, even though he got grumpy sometimes. The children knew he had worked hard and they appreciated what he had done.

Mum brushed aside her long, brownish hair and leaned over to give them each a kiss and a cuddle before they went out into the night, on their big adventure.

“Have a good time and don’t forget to come in for breakfast in the morning. I think we’ll have some special French toast and pancakes ready for you,” she said with a beaming smile and a wink.

“...And with maple syrup, Mum!” Sarah cut in with her excited chatter.

“Of course with maple syrup, you can’t have French toast or pancakes without it!” Mum sounded just as excited about breakfast as the children.

The three adventurers said their final good night to Mum and Dad, then filled their lungs with deep breathes of the damp night air and went out the door. As they stepped onto the footpath, another crack of thunder crashed through the night sky, sending shivers through their excitable frames. The storm was getting closer and the children felt a little nervous about their first night alone, in Lake–mist. By putting on their bravest faces, they determined not to let the approaching storm spoil their fun.

Chapter Two: Trapped!

It was growing dark, rather quickly and began to rain as the three ran to the caravan. Once inside, they shut the door tight then looked at each other and giggled excitedly.

“This is going to be so cool,” Jasmine prattled on.

“We’re going to have so much fun!” Sam joined in.

“...And we can stay up so late for our midnight snack! Mum and Dad won’t even know!” There was no way that Sarah was going to be scared, or so she thought.

While they chatted away about their big brave adventure, the storm drew ever closer and the rain fell heavier; the wind too, was in no way calm. No, it was clear the weather was getting much worse.

The trio were so engrossed in their chatter and laughter that they didn’t even notice how bad it was getting outside, until a great crack of lightning split the night sky. It was intense! The caravan shook violently.

“One one–thousand, two–one...” BOOM! The thunder was bone shattering and severe! Sarah’s eyes nearly popped out of her skull. “I’m scared, I want Dad to come and get me.” Her voice was shaky.

“We’ll be all right Sarah, I’ll look after you.” Sam was trying to calm her, but inside he too was shaken! Jasmine grabbed Sam’s arm.

“Do you think we should go inside? That wind feels like it’s strong enough to blow us off the cliff!”

“Don’t be silly Jasmine. It can’t blow us off!” However, as the children snuggled up together in one of the beds, the storm raged right on top of them like an angry hornets nest. The caravan shook and the rain pelted the windows like bullets. The lightening flashed again... “One...” BOOM! The thunder cracked open through the deep purple sky.

Jasmine squealed, “Where’s the walkie–talkie? Call Dad!” Looking around, Sam found it on his bed, near the end of the caravan.

“Here it is!” By clutching the lifesaver so hard he made his fingers go white, then he checked to see what channel it was dialed onto. Dad said his walkie–talkie would be on channel nine. While he searched for it, the light bulb or power, blew out.

“Oh no, Sarah pass me the torch!”

“I can’t see where it is!”

“I think the power’s gone off!” Jasmine was feeling around for the torch. Sarah reached under the bed and felt the familiar rubber texture of its cylindrical battery chamber.

“Found it!” She fumbled for the switch and clicked it on. As she pointed the friendly beam towards Sam, he demanded, “Give me the walkie–talkie!” Sam moved towards her and almost fell over as another clap of lightning and thunder crashed together in unison, directly above them. The blast chased through the floor like a charging bull and vibrated up his legs, turning them to jelly. The floor trembled in response with a shake to the sound, then after the vibration settled, his legs steadied to normal again. “Wow, that was huge!” Sam could feel the fear within, it was palatable.

Falling onto the bed with the girls, he searched for channel nine. He pressed the intercom button... “Dad, are you there?” Another blast shook the caravan violently.

The intensity of the rain outside was hitting the tinted glass as small bullets spitting from a machine gun. The children needed to shout down the walkie–talkie. They could feel every gust of the wind, buckling and flexing their flimsy walls of the caravan. Are those walls all we have to protect us? thought Sam

“Dad, can you hear me? Dad, come and get us!” Nothing! No response could be heard in return. Jasmine suggested to try another channel. Flicking through to channel ten, then eleven and there was still no reply. Turning to channel twelve, they tried again...

“Can you hear us Dad?”

“Can you hear us Dad?” They heard a repeat of what they had just said as soon as they said it, how could that be?

“Are you there Dad? Come and get us!”

Again, they heard the repeat... “Are you there Dad? Come and get us!” It sounded like it was coming from the wardrobe. Sam cautiously opened the door as Sarah pointed the beam, that’s when they saw it!

Dad did not even have the other walkie–talkie! it was sitting right there, uselessly in the bottom of the wardrobe. He must have forgotten to take it inside. Just great! Now the children had no way of talking to their Dad – they were trapped! Upon realising they were now alone, they each froze and were breathing rapidly, they were rigid with fear!

A moment later the caravan began to move and spin round and round, knocking the three of them off the bed and onto the floor. It spun faster and faster. Sam held onto the bottom of the new wardrobe. Jasmine held on to the built–in, fold–a–way table, and Sarah grabbed hold of Jasmine’s leg. They struggled to keep themselves from being tossed about as if they were rag dolls. This storm must be a massive tornado! Soon, it felt as though the caravan was being lifted up off the ground and into the air. The children did not know what was happening to them. It was terrifying and the whites of their eyes bulged against the darkness.

Suddenly, things were flying around inside the caravan. They felt a sort of, rotating around themselves like they were on a huge spinning wheel. Their heightened senses felt as if the caravan had shot off, what must have been the cliff, because then they could feel their stomachs turning inside out as they felt the plummeting of Lake–mist. There was another clap of thunder and lightning flashed, lighting up the whole inside of the caravan. Their mattress shifted from underneath them and as they fell off the bed, it landed on top of them, smothering them.

From under the mattress they could hear the muffled sounds of the battering winds, outside. They could feel the small bar fridge and other items hitting hard against the mattress; if they were not under it then they would have been battered and bruised, for sure. Scary thoughts, flooded their terrified minds.

Suddenly, there was silence and then a spiraling downwards, the sensation of falling didn’t stop. They kept falling and spinning out of control. After what seemed like a lifetime it happened. CRASH! They hit something so hard, that it almost shattered the caravan into a million pieces. Nevertheless, they kept on falling even further. The caravan did not stop with that first impact. Instead, it swirled down, down and down.

A gushing noise filled their ears like a tap that had suddenly been turned on to full blast, like a fire hose was splattering against their claustrophobic cocoon. The sound was coming from all around them. As the pitch of resonance grew deeper and deeper, they could feel themselves plummeting even further into what could be their watery grave. The three minds played different tricks on them, telling them they were falling into a big black hole. They felt alone, hopeless. Where were they going? What was happening?

Suddenly, THUMP! They stopped dead. All that could be heard was the children’s hearts beating, like African war drums with the heat of battle in full view.

Finally, after several moments of blinding confusion, Sarah opened her mouth and stuttered, “Wha... what happened? Where’s Dad?” She had a massive urge to sob, but tried to be brave.

She was not the only one who was terrified out of her socks. All three of them had no idea of what to think, or what to say next. The silence around them was loud and deafening!

Chapter Three: A Troubled Soul

High up in a cleft of the cliff face was a figure sitting, with his clothes clinging, soaking wet. He was cold and shivering. No one seemed to have noticed him as he looked far down below into the dark, vicious soup of rocks and turbulent waves. He was contemplating, something was raging inside himself and he was planning to commit a dreadful act, a hopeless thing for any person to even consider. But, his mind was frustrated, annoyed and confused. He felt useless, worthless; he couldn’t even hold down a job for longer than a week.

The youth was tall, gangly and eighteen years old. His hair was unkempt, scraggly and clinging to his narrow ruddy face, like a spider’s web because of the heavy downpour around him. He was sitting in the cold rain, not only alone but also lonely as the roaring ocean below him, played its forlorn tune.

This must be my only friend, he thought. The only one whom I can talk to. To reveal my deepest secrets and fears, to whisper my worries to.

No one else seemed to care what he tried to do in this life. He was rather clumsy at times, but any teenager with size–fourteen shoes is bound to be a little clumsy. The final straw for him was an incident that happened at work that day with a paintbrush, a can of paint and a painful fall from off a ladder. His shoulder was still aching, sporting a big purple bruise on it.

He remembered how much it hurt when he landed on the grey–haired old lady’s car, two metres below and how big the dent was that he had made. He remembered how far the blue paint had splattered all around, as he tripped over his toes and fell. It was also the last straw for his misunderstanding boss. After that unfortunate event, the teenager was fired.

Higher than the deepest roar and echoing from below him, sounded another clap of thunder which had been initiated directly above his wet and dripping head. Lightning flashed bright and unfriendly, causing him to jump involuntarily. He was between these two great forces he had no hope of understanding. His world was one of a bothersome mystery. One he did not wish to solve anymore. Yes, today was a good day... a good day to end it all... a good day to die.

He looked down again and wondered how long it would take, after he jumped, before he’d reach the bottom and whether it would it hurt at all, or not?

The wind roared and ripped through his hair, kissing his face as if taunting him. He stood unsteady and looked up. He nearly closed his eyes as he made himself ready to embrace this life–ending decision.

Before they were completely closed, his right eye just caught a glimpse of a most absurd sight, at eye level and off to his right. Whatever it was, it was hurtling out into the blustering ocean waves and traveling fast as a projectile. It looked like a helpless blue and silver whale as it was propelled onward, to a deadly collision course with the roaring sea below it. The terrific speed it was traveling made him think of a torpedo, yet it was flipping, end to end and out of control. It spun violently, but it wasn’t round like the whale he thought it was, nor smooth like a torpedo, rather, it was a rectangular shoe–box shape and rigid. A whale would have flopped around, twisting and turning. It didn’t have a pointy snout like a missile either, and what was even weirder about it was the fact that it had wheels. Wheels, and windows? What the...

It glistened in the low moonlight and looked as though it had been shot out of a canon, or whatever must have been atop of the cliff and it charged on, into the deep. It had well and truly cleared the sandy shore and was on a low angled decent into the unforgiving turbulence of the mystical ocean below. Could it actually be a flying caravan? Surely not! Although the night sky was quite dark, this certainly wasn’t something that happened every day, yet the youth was convinced that it was a caravan.

The lightning flashed again and split open the heavy sky from across the other side of this caravan; torpedo; whale thing; whatever it was. He was just able to see through the tinted windows, but only briefly, and yet long enough to notice something (or several some–things), inside it. The lightning lit up the sky again, like a flood lamp, and this is what he saw... small figures, like children, inside the box–missile, whatever, with wheels and windows. His sharp eyes strained again to see what it truly was inside.

Another flash of lightning confirmed his most outrageous thoughts; there seemed to be at least two people inside, possibly three. They did look like children!

Well, you can imagine how he felt when he saw that! His silly idea of jumping off that cliff to his demise was very quickly forgotten about. He dashed down the cliff as fast as his long legs and lanky hands would enable him. The young man may not have been good at many things, but one thing he knew he was good at, was swimming.

The caravan hit the water with a splash and slowly began to sink. He took note of where the caravan had landed and continued down the cliff in a blinding speed. Racing across the sandy shore.

By the time he reached the area where he’d last seen that weird whale thing, the caravan, it was no longer afloat and began slipping silently under the deep blue–green turbulence.

Even though he did not know exactly what he would do when he reached that place, neither did he know how deep the water would be, nor how strong the currents were, he did not really care anyway! He had determined that he was going to give it his best shot to rescue those poor children that he was convinced he had seen inside that caravan. Oh how strange, how bizarre. Was he hallucinating? Was he going mad?

Drawing closer to his target proved more difficult than he expected. Thick seaweed gathered around his size 14 feet and hindering his progress as he kicked to release it. The waves crashed around and pushed him far off course from his planned route. It pressed him dangerously close to where those vicious rocks were popping up – in and out of his view. His powerful strokes did not seem nearly as powerful as this force of nature that he found himself pitted against and was surrounding him, overpowering him. The icy water was taking its toll and chilling him to his core, cramping his muscles, ebbing his strength away. The sea was a frightful force with which he had to contend with.

As he struggled against this terrifying force, a huge wave approached, towering above his head. It lifted him up high and tossed him around like a cork; yet he continued his efforts, straining his lungs and burning up his heart. It proved too much for his small frame as it tossed him into the black, brutal rocks under the surface like he was just a rag–doll. He felt the bite of cold rock against his human flesh. An unmerciful force against a weak opponent. It was not fair! But then again, who said life would be fair?

As he fought gallantly one more time, he felt a crack around his ears and then there was silence. His bright–green eyes rolled back into his head and darkened. It was a strange thing; it was as if he had made it to the caravan and was right there with the children, face to face. He was knocked unconscious.

Chapter Four: Breathtaking

In the still, blackness of the caravan, Sam whispered, “Let’s get out of here. Help me get this mattress off will you!”

Pushing together, they lifted it up without any trouble, even the fridge that they had felt fall upon them while they were protected under the mattress, was unusually light as they flipped it off – how strange!

“I’m going to have a scout outside,” Sam said boldly as he gathered his courage, but Jasmine tried to discourage him. “I’ll be fine.” The girls noticed the quaver in his voice, he was trying to hide his own fears from them.

Pushing against the small ‘airlock’ the door, it felt heavy and sluggish like there some kind of strong pressure pushing back against the door, from the outside. The pressure could have been a force, or a gail–force wind blowing against the door, keeping it held fast. Sam pushed harder and then it whooshed open and hit the outer wall with a hollow thud. It was suddenly pinned out there, leaving a gaping hole that acted like a scary tunnel to whatever dangers might be lurking around.

Sam fell violently backwards onto his bum, while the force from outside rushed in all over him and filled the caravan within an instant as a heavy blanket, a fresh blast from an unlikely blizzard.

“What’s this?” He squealed, while the bitter cold enveloped him and his companions and a liquid substance swirled all around them. They tried to hold their breath as long as they could, but it was a hopeless gesture for survival. Finally, they could not hold the breath in their bursting lungs any longer and had to breathe out their last bubbles; involuntarily they inhaled the murky waters. They felt giddy and odd... were they drowning?

Sarah reached over to take hold of Jasmine’s slender arm. She was desperate for comfort and support. “I don’t like this, where’s Mum and Dad?” Sam grabbed hold of the plush new couches and pulled himself up off the floor, then approached the door cautiously. He looked into the deep blackness outside of that exposed entrance. The freezing cold of the liquid substance chilled him to his bones and covered him all over with goose bumps. He could not even see his own hand in front of his face through this.

Suddenly, alarmed at this revelation he then reached out into the inky unknown and his vulnerable body was suddenly exposed to the dingy environment out there. He grabbed the door with numb fingers and fumbled for the top edge of it, then managed to grip its steel frame and he pulled it closed with a tight, squelching noise. He stopped for a moment to think and catch his breathe.

“I don’t like this. This is not comfortable!” Sam was puzzled and frustrated.

“Well, what are we going to do?” Jasmine asked vaguely.

“I don’t know. This is too weird.”

“Is it safe here?” Sarah worried. “Can you turn the torch on... please?” Sam obliged. The three stunned mullets sat in silence, not knowing where they were or what had just happened. Mad thoughts flashed through their fuzzy minds.

Jasmine had an idea, it was something to take their minds off all of these bizarre happenings they had just been through together, “We may as well do something, instead of just sitting around here with miserable looking faces. We’ll go nuts otherwise. Why don’t we clean up this caravan a little? It will take our minds off things, okay?” The others nodded in agreement, besides, what else could they do? Perhaps this was all just a weird dream. Yes, that was it. They would soon wake up feeling foolish, waking up from a bad dream.

The torch was the only light they had. Each of them took turns holding it while the others gathered stuff that was scattered around ‘Lake–mists’ small cabin. They absentmindedly put things into some kind of order.

Tidying up was an uncommon thing for them... most of the time they would not even put their dirty washing in the laundry. After a lot of huffing and puffing, everyone was exhausted.

Deciding to stop for a snack, Jasmine grabbed the orange juice and chocolate chip bikkies, which they had uncovered from the rubble of blankets, plates, cups and other things. Some of the bikkies were broken but there were no fights among the three for the whole ones, they were grateful that they were all still in one piece.

Sam went to look for the jelly in the fridge. He opened the fridge door only to reveal a sticky, sloppy mess! Upon seeing the strawberry jelly splattered everywhere inside it, he knew immediately it wasn’t worth scraping off the inside walls for eating. They simply left it – yet another thing to be cleaned up in the morning.

As they tried to satisfy themselves with the drink and the remaining broken bikkies, they noticed how cold it was and how black it was around their insignificant shelter. Eerie silence was its call and unanswered questions bothered them all. Were they still on their back lawn? It sure didn’t seem like it. There was no indication of the storm anywhere: no rain, no wind, no thunder... nothing really. There was only the children, huddling around the dulling torchlight. They hoped the batteries weren’t going flat already.

The siblings made faces in the light–beam, attempting to make each other laugh, or to feel a little happier. Trivial chuckles were heard from around the small circle. This adventure had not turned out to be what they expected. It was not fun sitting in the cold dark with crazy thoughts rumbling through their rattled minds.

After a while, Sam became bored with their entertainment attempts and broke–up the games with a declaration: “Pass me the torch, Sarah, I want to have a look round outside again.” With reluctance, she passed it to him and followed him to the door. Sam cautiously opened it. This time, the metal door opened much easier, there was no heavy force battling with him from outside and the chilled door swung fully open on its hinges, leaving him standing like a bouncer in the small gap, albeit, a small bouncer, then he strained his eyes trying to look into the blackness.

The cold, bit at his bare arms and caused a shiver to coast through his body. He shone the torch outside. The beam did not even penetrate the blackness by more than a metre, or perhaps two. He could see specks of various stuff and of different sizes, being sucked into its narrow beam, passing harmlessly through. The random things appeared to be floating along as if in midair.

Swinging the beam around like a light sabre sword, he saw a white tennis ball–sized spot, moving stealthily and eerily through the darkness. There was no sound and the motion of it was creepy. He trained the torch beam onto it, and then he realised! This was no tennis ball! It was something that had a grey, flesh–like mass attached to it! He was looking into the eye of some great creature which was moving faster into his pitiful beam of light, with a jerky, erratic motion.

His heart was pounding as he jumped backwards while pulling the door shut again, with a bang. He knocked Sarah to the floor in his haste and yelled, “Help me lock the latch!” And there was a massive thud from outside as they panicked and fumbled toward the closed door. Sarah jumped up to help push the door bolt across and tried desperately to latch the security chain across. She had seen that grey–fleshy mass too!

Trembling and barely able to speak, she forced the question, “What was that? Do you think it looked hungry?”

Sam bashed at the door helplessly, “We’re stuck! We can’t go anywhere!” So, there they were, all wild–eyed and silently, waiting for something to happen.

After what seemed to be forever, Jasmine acknowledged some kind of groaning noises coming from outside. She had heard it earlier on, while they were playing ‘spooky faces’ but took little notice of it. It sounded like a low pulse, regular and slow. It was as if the kids were bottled up inside something else, something other than the caravan and much bigger. She recognised the sound and thought about the way the caravan had felt after that storm. Suddenly, realisation struck her – she knew exactly where they were!

With a deep breathe she pierced the eerie half–silence and whispered with a hushed tone... “I think we are under the ocean!”

Sam gasped, “What? We can’t be under the ocean, we’d drown!” Sam knew that was impossible.

Jasmine replied, “Well, where else could we be? I have never seen anything as large as that thing floating along our back lawn before! Have you?” He knew she was right, and it terrified him.

He did a bit of brain crunching and exclaimed, “That’s just too bizarre! What are we supposed to do about that?”

Sarah answered, “We can’t really do