Early this morning, I was walking along the beach when I suddenly noticed this on the shore.

I took one step closer, then another.

The sand beneath it was still wet—too wet. Not like it had just washed ashore, but like the tide had been pushed back around it, carefully, deliberately, as if the ocean had avoided touching it.

When I finally reached it, I noticed something I hadn’t seen from a distance.

It was breathing.

Not fast. Not panicked. Just… slow, deep expansions along the side of its body, like the sea itself was still inside it, refusing to leave.

I should’ve run.

Instead, I crouched down.

The skin wasn’t rubbery like I first thought. It was more like layered glassy tissue—semi-translucent in places, with dark lines moving underneath it, almost like currents flowing in water. The tail twitched once, just slightly, dragging a line through the sand that didn’t look like sand anymore after it passed over it… more like ash.

Then I heard it.

Not from the thing.

From the water.

A low, dragging sound, like something massive shifting beneath the surface far out at sea. The waves at the shore didn’t rise or fall naturally anymore—they hesitated, as if waiting for permission.

The creature’s tail moved again, stronger this time.

And for the first time, I noticed it wasn’t stranded.

It was pointing.

Not randomly.

Directly toward me.