It must've been a slow day to be assigned what practically anybody with a bit of brain could achieve, but today, I stood upon the flooring of an abandoned building, notebook in hand, pen in another. This place hasn't been used for anything since I was rescued from the depths, with my own age coming upon me, felt like forever. An eyesore, rotting upon years, but what standard decay did not cause to walls, usually, was the giant hole that sat on one edge of the home. Noting the accessed damage with a rather awful early-morning handwriting, taking glances at everything except the wall. It felt like it told a story of its own, because everything was still in place, decayed, but as if one day the owners of residence had just...gotten up and left.
And then never came back to even grab a key they forgot. This place was a legend sometimes. Haunted, even. But the wall-hole was a new discovery, occuring about a month ago. And then, a poor construction in said notes of the hole's shape and placement on the wall. Looking up from that paper, and to the corner of said hole, only to see with my own eyes and bewildered silence, another brick falling away, out, and -- that was no fall. There was clearly a hand on that brick. Dropping pen and paper to sink to the table next to my leg, treading over to the hole, closer, and feeling the hole in the same size and shape in the form of a cloud in my chest.
Underneath it, laid someone that felt familiar. Someone that was already the culprit of a similar incident, but came back for more. Claws, a glistening blue and red mershark tail, a shit-eating grin, and half of the brick they held in that hand already ate into.
It led to a staring contest of my blank, bewildered face, down into that shark's grin. We made no noise, but the water sure made itself tense for that encounter.
But the shark spoke up, floating upwards, one hand on brick, ready to throw the meal if needed, and the other resting bent.