The Truth About Sea Scorpions
Don’t believe everything you hear.
All he had wanted was to steal the warlock’s magic. Then he’d found himself trapped in a magic circle unable to move.
“Ever do those termite experiments in science class?” The warlock asks, tracing a large spiral starting at the circle until it approaches where the waves reach the sand.
“What?”
“I’m sure you did them at some point. You draw circles in different colors, then put a termite on the paper, see what it does.”
“Why?” The man man asks the question distractedly, more as a way of keeping the warlock talking in the hopes it would delay whatever he had in mind than out of true interest.
“You can get them to follow lines colored with certain inks. Smell like pheromones apparently. Sea Scorpions are much the same. Just as blind but amazing sense of smell. Can scent pheromones a mile away. Ironic given their own bouquet.” He approaches the young man, stopping just outside the circle. He holds up a small vial which he uncorks. Tilting it he lets a few drops fall at a time retracing the spiral.
“Sea scorpions aren’t real,” the man says derisively, wondering what the warlock is up to. There were always those who fall for the tales of mythical creatures and those who swear they have seen one. The man prides himself on not being so gullible.
“They’re as real as Warlocks, they just usually stick to the depths. Takes a bit of magic to call them up. But as I still have my magic, your efforts to steal it a massive fail, that didn’t pose a problem.”
“You’re just trying to scare me”
“No not really. Though I imagine you will be plenty frightened when they begin to crawl from the sea. What was I saying? Ah yes, the creatures fascinating ability to follow a line by smell alone. Of course, given they are anywhere from six to eight feet long I had to make the spiral very large. I suppose I could have drawn a line straight to you but it would have been over too soon and where is the fun in that? “
“Whatever are you going on about?” The man asks in annoyance. “Why won’t you just Tell me what you want to release me so we can conclude this little farce of yours and go our separate ways.”
“Ah, a man who holds onto optimism no matter how dire his predicament. How refreshing. So as I was explaining — When the sea scorpions get to the edge of the circle this” he holds up the vial and with a snap of his wrist sends the remainder of the liquid splashing all over the circles prisoner, “will ensure they get a fix on you. As they move forward they will obviously disturb the circle freeing you from my spell and allowing you to move. Unfortunately, by then there will be far too many to get past. Plus, like bees they sense the least disturbance of the air so if you move they will end up in a frenzy climbing over each other to reach you.
Though maybe it would be best over quickly rather than letting them take their time tearing out pieces of you with their claws over the course of several days. They like their meat spoiled and the venom at the end of their tail will cause your flesh to begin to break down leaving you in ever growing agony. The worst part is the toxin has a paradoxical effect. Even as it is causing your body to liquefy into a putrid mess it sharpens your mind so you are fully aware of every moment of your torture. The beasts like living meat so they will stay away from your inner organs until just before you die then ripping you apart to get at your viscera while still warm. I think you’ll find it amazing what the human body can withstand.”
The man in the circle looked over the shoulder of the Warlock, his eyes widening in terror. The Warlock turned to follow his gaze seeing the ocean beginning to boil.
“Ah, there they are now. Forgive me for leaving you to face this alone but I’m afraid I just can’t take the odor. I won’t be far. Just at the tavern that tops the bluffs. Do call if you need anything.”
“You can’t just leave me here! For God’s sake I‘ve learned my lesson! I‘ll never bother you again!”
“To the contrary I most certainly can and will. As for learning a lesson, well, that’s a good thing I suppose before one’s death, but never really part of my plan. Though I’m not entirely without compassion.” A thud resounds from the sand within the circle. Cutting his eyes downward the man can just make out the gleam of the item. Lifting his eyes again, he finds that the Warlock is gone. Eyes fixed on the approaching monsters, he lets out a horror filled scream.
The metronome of time ticks away the seconds as they elapse in orange white moonlight. The giant sea spiders drag their pus filled bodies, dripping, across the sand, tracing a nautilus spiral around and around, slow as molasses but not so sweet. By the time the man’s throat is too raw to scream, the beach is slime covered. The stench of a mix of rotting garbage and putrid sewage is enough to make the man wretch and had he not been held upright by the Warlock’s spell he would have fallen to his knees.
At the top of the bluff the Warlock sits atop a polished cypress stool, in an oaken tavern tasting his drink with satisfaction.
The man seated next to him, leans in and says, “Did you hear those screams a few minutes back? You were still out there when they were going on.”
The Warlock laughs. “Nothing more than a wind squall. You must not be from around here.”
“No, from the States. Here on assignment for the news agency I work for.”
“Ah, and what is your assignment?”
“I’m really not supposed to talk about assignments but I can’t see what it could hurt. I’m here to document the basis of beliefs in local monsters. Like proving the Lochness Monster was nothing more than a boat wake.”
“But?”
“But what?”
“You sound as if you doubt your angle.”
“Well, I just think there is often more truth than farce to some of those old stories.” He looked around then asks in an undertone. “I don’t suppose you know anything about those giant sea spiders they say swim the seas here? Supposed to rip people to shreds with their giant claws then eat them!”
“Nothing but an urban legend,” the Warlock says casually. “Not that they aren’t real and when one gets washed ashore they look pretty terrifying. But they’re harmless, scared of their own shadow, bottom feeders. Kind of like the giant catfish, might scavenge small, dead things, but they stay out of the way of anything alive and moving. Claws are too weak to tear up much of anything or provide them with protection.
The visitor looks disappointed. “There must be more to them than that. They’re real, but just harmless, cowardly, bottom feeders?
The Warlock shrugs. “Sorry, but they really just aren’t very interesting. Don’t do much really, sleep, scavenge, sleep some more, mate once, then die. They can’t see so they need their sense of smell to even find each other. You could be in the middle of hundreds of them and if you stayed still they wouldn’t know you were there, though if you started moving you’d scare them so badly they’d flee. Not too bright, either, one will start following a sand track and the others just follow the one in front of them.
The visitor jumps when the loud report comes.
“What was that? It sounded like a gunshot!”
“Don’t worry, just a car backfiring.” The Warlock says. “I’m afraid you won’t find much here. Man Eating Sea Scorpions, wailing banshees foretelling death, witches, will-o-the-wisps — nothing but myths”. He throws the empty vial that had been filled with tap water into the trash, picks up his glass, toasts the visitor and takes a long sip.
As the warlock prepares to leave, he turns back to the visitor. “Oh, one piece of advice. . . Stay away from the lower beach tonight. There was a big storm, washed up all sort of unsightly debris.” Without further explanation he walks out the door and into the gathering mist.
Natalie Frank, Ph.D. (Clinical Psychology) 2019
Natalie Frank (Taye Carrol) has had work featured in Haunted Waters Press, Weirdbook Magazine, Siren’s Call Publications, Lycan Valley Press and Zero Fiction among others. Her poetry has been featured a several anthologies. She is the Managing Editor for Novellas and Serials at LVP Publications.
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