Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

Rose

M y eyes drift towards Levi’s still-empty houseboat for the hundredth time today. The marina bustles with afternoon activity – sailboats gliding by, seagulls wheeling overhead, and the distant chatter of people enjoying another day of the perfect weather. Yet, amidst all this life and movement, I find myself distracted.

“I’m telling you, Heather, it’s been amazing. He’s been amazing,” I say, warmth coloring my voice despite the worry starting to gnaw at my edges. I’ve been out here for hours, sketchbook open but mostly untouched, my eyes drawn again and again to the harbor entrance. The fishing boats should have returned by now, and each passing minute without seeing Levi’s vessel makes my stomach twist a little tighter. Not that I’m about to admit that to Heather – she’s already having far too much fun with this situation as it is.

“Oh my god, listen to you! Has Prince Charming swept you right off your feet and into his fishing boat?” Heather’s laugh crackles through the phone’s speaker. “Should I be planning my maid of honor speech for the seaside wedding? Mwarriage… mwarriage is whot bwrings us hwere togeva today.”

I laugh, shaking my head even though she can’t see me. “It’s not like that. We’re just… I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

As I speak, a familiar sensation washes over me. It’s hard to describe – like a prickling at the back of my neck, a sudden awareness that I’m not alone. My heart races as I remember the feeling of something brushing against my foot in the water the other night. My eyes drift to the small pearl sitting on my kitchen counter, its surface an impossibly deep blue that shifts and shimmers with every movement. I’d found it this morning when I stepped out onto the deck, nestled in a pristine oyster shell left by my door.

I close my eyes momentarily, trying to shake off the feeling of being watched. It’s just my imagination running wild after everything that’s happened. The creak of the houseboat, the splash of waves against the hull, the whisper of wind – they’re all normal harbor sounds. And yet… that crawling sensation remains.

I shake my head, dismissing the sensation, but then stop myself. Krakens are supposed to be myths and legends. They shouldn’t exist in real life. And yet… I know what I saw, what I felt. The memory is vivid and undeniable. The gentle strength of those massive tentacles lifting me, saving me from drowning – it was not a hallucination born from a bump on the head. The touch of its tentacle and the deliberate care in its actions were all too real. And now, with this perfect pearl glowing with the colors of the deepest ocean sitting in my kitchen, I’m certain – a kraken, or something very much like one, exists here in Lublin Harbor. And it saved my life.

“Rose? You still there?” Heather’s voice brings me back to the present.

“Yeah, sorry,” I reply, still scanning the dark, calm water. “I just thought I… never mind. Heather, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you soon, okay?”

I end the call and stand up, drawn to the edge of the deck. The water laps gently against the houseboat, reflecting the sun’s rays. I see nothing unusual, and yet… I can’t shake the feeling that something is watching me. It doesn’t feel threatening. If anything, it feels… familiar.

Taking a deep breath, I lay on my belly on the deck, stretching my arm as far into the water as it will go. The cool water flows over my hand, but nothing brushes against it. Still, the feeling persists.

“Are you there?” I call out softly, feeling slightly foolish. “It’s okay. You’re safe with me. I just… I want to say thank you. For the other day.”

Silence greets me, broken only by the gentle lapping of waves and distant sounds from the town. And yet, the longer the quiet stretches, the more confident I become that something is down there, watching and listening.

A rash idea forms in my mind. Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m unhooking the kayak tied to my houseboat and lowering myself into it. With swift strokes, I start paddling out of the marina. If something is out there – a kraken, as impossible as that seems – it probably won’t show itself so close to other people.

I paddle until the marina and the town beyond are just faint shapes in the distance. The open water stretches out around me, bright and endless. A few boats dot the horizon, specks against the vast expanse, but here in my immediate vicinity, it’s just me and the endless waves. A shiver runs down my spine, but it’s not from fear.

“Are you there?” I call out again, my voice carrying across the still water. “Please, I know you’re out there. I can feel you.”

Leaning over the side of the kayak, I dangle my hand into the water. For a moment, nothing happens. Then, something so faint I almost think I imagined it brushes against my palm. My heart leaps.

Then my kayak begins to move on its own. At first, it’s subtle – just the slightest shift against the current – but then the movement becomes unmistakable. I’m being pushed back towards the marina, though I can’t see what’s guiding me. My paddle hangs useless in my hands as I stare down at the water, my heart thundering in my chest. The presence I’ve been feeling is stronger than ever, an electric awareness that makes every hair on my arms stand on end. I see a dark shape moving in the water beneath me for a moment, barely visible through the surface. It seems to stretch forever, a shadow that’s both there and not there; it’s like trying to judge the size of a whale by its silhouette through deep water. My kayak glides smoothly backward, gaining speed as it heads back toward the marina.

“Wait! No, don’t. Please,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I want to see you. I want to be your friend.”

The kayak continues its steady glide despite my pleading. I make a decision that I know is foolish – dangerous and stupid even. But I need to know. Without giving myself time to reconsider, I throw myself off the kayak and into the water.

The shock of the cold hits me first, followed immediately by a flash of movement. As I open my eyes underwater, an enormous tentacle passes right before my eyes. It’s massive – wider than my torso – with skin that shifts between deep blues and purples, almost iridescent in the filtered sunlight.

Without thinking, I reach out toward it, my hand stretching through the dark water. The tentacle pauses, then curls around my hand – the touch impossibly gentle, almost like a greeting. The moment stretches, strange and electric. Then it releases my hand and wraps smoothly around my waist, lifting me out of the water.

I break the surface with a gasp, equal parts exhilarated and relieved as the tentacle deposits me back into my kayak. Water streams down my face and my clothes cling to me, but I barely notice the discomfort. My whole body is trembling, not from cold but from a cocktail of adrenaline and wonder.

“Thank you,” I sputter, pushing wet hair out of my face. “I’m sorry about jumping in. I just… I had to be sure I wasn’t going crazy.” The words tumble out, urgent and sincere, though I’m not even sure if it can understand human speech.

The ocean’s surface swells, a gentle dome rising from the depths. As I watch, breathless, the water parts and the kraken emerges – for there’s no denying what it is now. Its massive form towers above me, casting a shadow over me as seawater streams down its dark flesh. Two eyes, each the size of a car tire, fix upon me with a shrewd intelligence. The creature looks like an enormous octopus with a massive bulbous head and long, sinuous tentacles. The kraken’s skin is a mesmerizing grey-blue, mottled with deeper purplish splotches that seem to shift and dance in the light. Eight tentacles breach the surface with barely a ripple, coiling and unfurling in hypnotic patterns. They twist through the water like living ribbons, spiraling so deep and far that their ends are lost to the darkness below. Their fluid grace masks their titanic size, making me forget I’m watching a creature that could crush ships in its embrace.

The kraken’s size is shocking and awe-inspiring, easily dwarfing my houseboat. But it’s the eyes that captivate me – large, intelligent, and fixed on me with an intensity that leaves no doubt that it understands every word I’m saying. Its eyes are deep and expressive, with horizontal pupils that contract into thin slits as it studies me. There’s a wisdom in their depths that sends a shiver down my spine.

We stare at each other for a long moment, human and myth, locked in a silent exchange. Then, slowly, hesitantly, the kraken raises a tentacle. I hold my breath as it reaches towards me. The appendage is thick as a redwood at its base, tapering to a surprisingly delicate tip no wider than my index finger. Its underside is lined with suckers that graduate from massive dinner-plate circles to delicate cups no bigger than pinheads at its end. Each one flexes and moves independently, like thousands of tiny, curious mouths.

The tentacle’s tip, impossibly gentle, caresses my cheek. This behemoth of legend, capable of dragging ships to their doom, touching me with the tenderness of a mother wiping away a child’s tear.

As the tentacle starts to withdraw, I catch it in my hand, marveling at the feel of it. The suckers cling gently to my fingers, an alien sensation that sends a thrill through me. I stare in wonder, running a thumb over the patterns on its skin.

“You’re real,” I breathe, a smile spreading across my face. “You’re really real.”

As I speak, a visible ripple cascades across the kraken’s skin, starting from where my hand touches its tentacle and spreading outward. The smooth surface seems to contract and relax in a wave-like motion, the gray-blue hues intensifying and the purplish splotches momentarily brightening. This undulation somehow reminds me of a cat’s purr made visible; it gives the unmistakable impression of pleasure.

I can’t help but giggle, fascinated by this extraordinary reaction. Gently, I trace my fingers over one of the changed purple patterns on the kraken’s tentacle. The skin beneath my touch is cool and slick, yet responsive in a way I never imagined possible. As my fingertips glide over another dark splotch, it seems to pulse and swirl, almost as if chasing my touch. It’s extraordinary.

The kraken’s eyes seem to sparkle in response to my laughter, and I could swear I see a flicker of amusement in their depths. The rippling motion continues, more subtle now but still perceptible, like a constant low hum of contentment.

“Thank you,” I say again, my voice thick with emotion. “For saving me after the storm and helping me back into the kayak just now. And… and for returning my things.” I take a deep breath, gathering my courage. “And… thank you for the other night too. That was you in the marina, wasn’t it?” I meet its gaze steadily. “I thought I felt something touch my foot. I wasn’t imagining it, was I? It was you.”

The kraken doesn’t respond, of course, but I feel a gentle squeeze from the tentacle I’m holding as if in affirmation.

I laugh, the sound born of pure joy and amazement. “I knew it! I knew I wasn’t imagining things.”

I sober, remembering the terrifying moments when I thought I might drown. The weight of what this creature has done for me settles in my chest. “Thank you again for saving me,” I say softly, my voice filled with genuine gratitude. “You risked exposure to help me. I wish there were a way I could repay you. I’m just glad to get to meet you. I hope that we can be friends.”

The kraken tilts its massive head, regarding me. I get the impression that it’s considering how to answer and communicate with me. After a moment, it gently tugs on my hand with its tentacle, tugging me closer to the edge of the kayak.

“What?” I ask, leaning forward.

The kraken watches me, and instead of answering directly, it holds up a tentacle, then taps it pointedly against the kayak.

“You want me to stay here?” I ask slowly, unsure if I’m understanding. The kraken nods, its bioluminescent skin glowing brightly as if to emphasize the command. Without another word, it dips below the surface, disappearing from sight.

I sit in the kayak, bobbing gently on the water, doing what the kraken commanded, but my worry grows. Did I understand it correctly? What if I was supposed to do something else? What if it’s not coming back?

Just as my anxiety peaks, the water ripples again, and the kraken reappears. This time, it has something wrapped carefully in its tentacle. It swims close, offering me the item. With shaking hands, I reach out, and the kraken drops something into my palm. I look down to see a beautiful seashell, its inside gleaming with mother-of-pearl.

“Oh,” I breathe, feeling the words catch in my throat. “It’s… it’s beautiful. Thank you,” I manage, still grappling for the right words. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

The kraken’s skin ripples with iridescent hues – soft blues and purples swirling across its surface in response to my words. A warmth emanates from the depths of its eyes that tugs at something deep within me. Slowly, almost hesitantly, it extends a tentacle towards my face again. The gentle brush against my cheek is cool and slightly textured. I lean into the touch, my eyelids fluttering closed. The naturalness of this connection with a creature I’d thought a myth until days ago is both startling and exhilarating, made even more magical by the vibrant display of its pleasure.

As I open my eyes, I realize how much time has passed. Once high and bright, the sun now hangs lower in the sky, the kraken’s shadow stretching through the deep blue water.

I take a deep breath, feeling a mixture of emotions swirling within me. “I… I have to go soon,” I tell the kraken softly, my voice tinged with reluctance. “I need to return to the marina. I’m going on a sailboat cruise with my friend Levi.”

Even as I say the words, I feel torn. Part of me longs to stay here, to continue this magical encounter with the kraken. Yet, I can’t deny the flutter of excitement at seeing Levi again. At the mention of Levi’s name, the kraken seems to startle, its body suddenly tensing. Noticing this, I quickly add, “Oh, don’t worry! I haven’t told Levi or anyone about you. You might have seen Levi. He lives in the houseboat next to the one I’m staying in. He’s really nice.”

The kraken’s eyes narrow slightly at the word ‘nice’, almost as if raising an eyebrow despite having no hair or eyebrows. I can’t help but giggle at the expression.

“Did you… did you see us kiss?” I ask, and the kraken nods, swishing water playfully around my kayak.

I can’t help but laugh. “Okay, so Levi… it’s complicated. He’s more than a friend, but I don’t know what to call it. I mean, I’m leaving in about ten days. Starting something serious right now seems crazy, right? And long distance?” I shake my head. “God, listen to me – I’m getting ahead of myself. He hasn’t even said he wants anything more than a fling.”

At the mention of my departure, the kraken’s skin seems to darken, the vibrant colors fading to more muted tones. The sudden shift in mood sobers me, reminding me of the complex nature of this unexpected connection.

My voice is barely above a whisper when I ask, “Will I see you again?”

The kraken nods, and I feel relief wash over me. Then, to my surprise, it begins to push my kayak gently back towards the marina. As we move through the water, I wonder about this mysterious creature.

“You know,” I say, tilting my head, “I keep thinking of you as ‘he’ in my head, but I shouldn’t assume. Are you male?” The kraken seems to hesitate as if unsure how to respond. “Oh! We could make this easier – tap once for yes, twice for no. Would that work?”

A tentacle gently taps my thigh once, making me grin in delight at this new form of communication. “Okay, are you female?” Two taps against my leg. “So, you’re male?” One firm tap confirms what I’d suspected.

He pushes my kayak through the water, each movement careful and deliberate. The marina grows larger on the horizon, a reminder that our time together is ending.

“Thank you,” I say as we approach the marina. The kraken sinks lower into the water, his massive form submerging until only the crown of his head and those enormous eyes break the surface. His hesitation to venture closer to the populated area is clear. “For everything,” I add softly. “For trusting me.”

He responds by gently wrapping a tentacle around my wrist. The contrast strikes me – this enormous creature, capable of capsizing ships, now giving me such a delicate, careful squeeze.

After a moment, the kraken releases my wrist and raises the tentacle in what I can only interpret as a wave of goodbye. Then, slowly, it begins to sink beneath the surface. I watch, transfixed, as its massive form gradually disappears. The last thing I see are those intelligent eyes holding my gaze until they, too, vanish beneath the waves.

I stare at the spot where it disappeared for a long moment, part of me still unable to believe what just happened. The gentle lapping of waves against my kayak mingles with the distant sounds of the marina – the clanking of rigging against masts, the muffled voices of people on the docks, and the occasional rev of a boat motor. These familiar noises, once so ordinary, now seem to belong to a different world entirely. They remind me of the life I must return to, even as the memory of the kraken’s touch lingers on my skin.

As I paddle back to my houseboat, my mind whirls with wonder. A kraken – an actual, living, breathing kraken – here in Lublin Harbor! The thought alone seems absurd like something from an old sailor’s tale told over too many drinks. But this is real. My friend is real. The word ‘friend’ catches in my thoughts, strange and wonderful when paired with a creature of such legendary power. I keep glancing over my shoulder at the open water behind me, half-expecting to see those intelligent eyes watching me or the subtle ripple of a tentacle beneath the surface.

I tie up the kayak and climb back onto my houseboat, my eyes drawn again to Levi’s dark, empty home. Relief washes over me as I realize I’ve beaten him back. I’m glad I didn’t leave him waiting for me, especially after our plans for the evening. Guilt flickers at the edge of my thoughts; I’d promised not to kayak alone after yesterday, but explaining why I felt it was necessary to break my vow would be impossible.

Without wasting another moment, I rush inside. There’s no time to dwell on my incredible encounter with the kraken right now – I need to shower and prepare for… well, is it a date? He’s still technically my tour guide. After last night with Levi, I’d like to think we’re so much more, but we haven’t defined things. The thought sends both excitement and nervousness through me. As I hurry to the bathroom, I can’t help but smile at the duality of my day: from mythical sea creatures to a potentially romantic evening sail.

As I shower, I find myself caught between two worlds in Lublin Harbor. There’s Levi, whose warm smile and gentle hands make my body hum with possibility, promising the kind of deep connection I’ve always hoped to find. And then there’s the kraken, whose very existence has shattered everything I thought I knew about reality.