[spookies] The drowner

The sky above the fishing town of Fisk was filled with shades of heavy gray clouds, where the sun hid behind. The darkened sea stretched out endlessly. Larger and larger waves started to form. This unusual sight could only mean one thing. A storm was about to hit the town.

The symprites townsfolk moved hurriedly to secure their boats and pack their stuff. The wooden docks groaned under the weight of the stormy water, and the smell of salt was thick in the air. By now, all the bappies were safely tucked away in their loving home, except for the two troublemakers—Zazie and Zalor. 

They were both orphans, raised together with the other orphan bappies in the community center of the fishing town of Fisk. Zalor was older and the one causing all the chaos in the neighborhood, always pushing the boundaries and stirring trouble wherever he went. He had a sharp tongue and a quick mind, constantly finding new ways to bend the rules to his advantage. Yet things rarely went as planned for Zalor—his schemes often backfired, leaving him in sticky situations. Zazie, smaller but equally daunting in their own way, had a wild unpredictability about them. Unlike Zalor’s calculated mischief, Zazie was impulsive, acting on whim and instinct. Though naive and rather inexperience, they carried a reckless fearlessness that made others unsure whether to follow them or keep their distance. This bold personality causes them to be a little distant from the other townsfolk, only to make them realize the meaning of having each other, going through happiness and hardship together. They are as close as a real siblings, sometimes calling each other that way.

The sky then began to pour when the two bappies still joyously hopping around the puddles and drenched in rain. Zazie loves rain, be it watching from the window on a cozy day or literally bathing in a downpour. They feel like it’s a peaceful moment where time seems to stop and there are only the two of them in this world. Zalor might not be seeing the same thing but still appreciated and joined whatever the little one do. They soon arrived at the dimly lit back porch of the community center, where a kind symprites caretaker gave them a light reprimand and dried them with washcloth under their giggles.

They were now tucked inside along with the other orphans bappies. Both watched through the foggy windows as the sky darkened further and the wind howled up. Inside the town's community center living room, the fire crackled warmly in the hearth, providing a stark contrast to the growing storm outside. The bappies huddled close, drawn together by both the cold creeping through the cracks in the walls and the low murmur of an old voice beginning to tell a tale.

The voice belongs to an old fisher, her eyes twinkling with the light of the fire. She sat in a rickety old chair, hunched slightly forward. Tonight, with the storm looming and the waves pounding the shore, the story felt more real than ever. 

"They say," the old fisher began with a low voice, "that out there, beyond the edge of what you see, something stirs beneath the water." 

The bappies shifted uneasily. Including our two troublemakers. Though Zalor shiver is faint, it does not escape Zazie watchful eyes.

“Thought ya said ya ain’t ‘fraid of any monster” Zazie stares at Zalor, laughter could be seen in their eyes. Almost immediately after Zazie finished their sentence, Zalor latched onto them, hand ruffled through their hairs.

“Your bro is just so cold, Ima need some cuddles.” Zalor's cover up was soon shushed by another bappy who wanted to continue listening to the ghost story. The old fisher only gave a light smile towards their direction before continuing narrating.

"No one knows what it looks like," the old fisher continued, "for those who’ve seen it never return to tell the tale. Some say it has eyes that glow in the depths…watching…waiting for the moment…you little baps stray too far from shore."

The flickering firelight cast long, trembling shadows on the bappies’ faces. The younger ones clung to the older, seeking reassurance, though none dared to speak. All of these except for our troublemakers who giggles among themselves once again, blabbering about how almost every tale inserts this crappy line.

"It’s drawn to the sound of laughter…to the voices of the bappies…who wander where they shouldn’t. It hides in the waves, blending with the water until it's too late."

A gust of wind swept through the group, causing the flames to sputter and die down momentarily. At this point screams could be heard. It was dark and hard to discern who the scream belonged to and not surprisingly one of the screams belonged to Zalor, in an attempt to scare Zazie. The old fisher’s voice deepened with the next sentence, every word heavy with warning.

"It waits for those who don’t listen…who think the sea is only a place of games and plays. But the sea… it has its secrets. There are things in the deep that were never meant to be disturbed."

The old fisher’s gaze stops at the two troublemakers. The reasons couldn't be more clear. The one who thinks the sea is a playground? None other than an expert swimmer, the ocean symprites, Zazie. And thanks to a certain oasis symprites who can’t swim properly, Zazie always gets caught trying to swim past the shallow reef area. 

"THEY CALLED IT THE DROWNER!!!," the voice rasped at the same moment as the thunder struck, snapping Zazie out of their thinking. "It doesn’t come with a roar or a splash. It comes quietly, slipping through the water like a shadow. You won’t even feel it at first. It pulls you under, slowly, so slowly that by the time you realize…"

The old fisher paused, letting the silence stretch out, thick and oppressive. The bappies let out cries of excitement mix with fear that are hard to distinguish. They leaned forward, breath caught in their throats.

"By the time you feel its cold fingers around your ankle," the storyteller’s voice was barely audible now, "it’s too late. The sea will swallow you whole, and the only thing left will be the sound of the waves... whispering your name."

For a moment, the crowd all held their breath. The only sound was the distant rumbling of the sea. The bappies were frozen, eyes wide, hearts pounding in their small chests. They could almost feel the icy water creeping up their legs, the deadly grip of the Drowner pulling them toward the depths.

"And so," the storyteller finally said, breaking the silence, "remember the warnings. The sea is not just a playground. For those who venture too far… it becomes a grave."

The fire crackled softly, casting eerie shapes that seemed to dance and twist, like figures rising from the deep. The wind picked up, howling faintly through the window gap as if echoing the tale itself. The bappies sat still, gripping each other’s hands tightly, unwilling to look at the sea but unable to forget its presence just beyond the safety of the shore.

.

.

.

Moments later, small groups began to form within the community center living room. There were the bappies who played a game of slay-the-monster, eagerly acting out heroic battles, and those who lingered on the edges—too afraid to join but too anxious to retreat to bed just yet. The night was still early, and it wasn’t time for the caretaker to sing them to sleep. 

Of course, you know which group Zazie and Zalor put themselves in. While many bappies eagerly claimed the role of the brave sea hunter—the hero who saves the day—there were plenty of other parts in play: the navigator guiding the ship, the loyal sailor, the frightened villager, even theself-proclaimed greatest cook of all time went abroad the imaginary ship. But Zalor, in his usual fashion, declared early on that he would play the Drowner. With his tall, lanky frame, towering over most of the older bappies, his rattlesnake-scale biote coiling along his leg, and his dark, muddy color palette, Zalor seemed made for the part. He could easily embody the lurking sea creature from the stories.

Zazie, normally glued to Zalor’s side in their mischief, surprised everyone this time by choosing the role of the beast hunter—a role they dreamed of becoming in real life. With a passion for creatures and adventure, Zazie often imagined themselves traveling the continent, hunting down dangerous beasts with knowledge of flora and fauna. And so, the game began. The young hunters leaped into action, shrieking with excitement, but one by one, they fell to the Drowner’s grasp as Zalor stalked them with dramatic flair. He spared the cook who offer him a candy she hide in her pocket…for now.

At last, when it seemed all hope was lost, Zazie burst from the backline, striking with precision. With a final, exaggerated gasp, Zalor fell, arms flailing, only to drag Zazie down with him. They collapsed onto the wooden floor, laughing until their sides hurt, their carefree joy filling the room with warmth.

But as the bappies’ laughter echoed through the room, the scene shifted. The laughter faded, and time seemed to dissolve. Zazie, now an adult symprite, stood in the shadows of a dense forest, the weight of their beast hunter’s gear heavy on their shoulder. Sea monster blood dripped from their blade, pooling at their feet. For a moment, they were lost in memory—of the stories told by the fire, of bappy games on stormy nights, and of Zalor, whose schemes were once nothing more than playful trouble. But now…

Zalor, or now called Dumpster— the escaped prisoner, declared wanted by authorities across the region. Zazie’s heart clenched as they thought of him. They had been thinking of the past more and more lately, ever since hearing the rumor. They could only hope to find him before anyone else did.