This note contains within it the documentation of an, as of yet, unknown persons’ untimely demise. It, along with other artifacts, was discovered during an unmanned expedition deep within Mariana trench. As for how he got there, or who brought him there, only god knows.
9:57p.m.- I really don’t know what to say. I have no idea how I’ve found myself in this situation. All I can say for certain is I know that it’s not good. I look outside this glass enclosure I’m in and all I see is maybe half a foot of ground and then darkness, not the kind you’d see at midnight either, no, this darkness swallows the light. If I look down I can see that this glass enclosure is only about 2ft by 2ft in diameter and it’s not much taller than five.
I press my hands up against the glass only to be met with the realisation that it is cold to the touch, almost like touching a fish tank. I have tried breaking it on several occasions but it appears to be far too thick. Now, I am only breathing when absolutely necessary so as not to waste oxygen. I look up and see a small vent within the glass. Whilst dwelling on the peculiarity of this seemingly innocuous vent I hear a small beep.
It is at this point that the vent proceeds to open and a small amount of water is let into the enclosure. Now, I come to the terrifying revelation that the deep black void of nothingness outside is miles upon miles of empty ocean, my true hell on earth if you will. I will be putting this note in my bag when I’m done writing, because, should I die here, I want someone to know what happened to me. Getting back on track, I’ve now noticed the vent opens periodically every 30 minutes or so. Each time it opens, it lets in just a bit more water.
10:27p.m.- It is up to my knees by this point, making me frantically search for an exit, but one isn’t appearing. I try to calm down as with every passing second, I’m losing precious oxygen. There’s nothing but glass all around me, glass and darkness that is. The water is cold, hitting my knees like sharp pins. I look and look for some semblance of a possible chance out of this, but, I fear that even if there were one it would only result in a swift death from getting crushed by ocean water anyway.
10:57p.m.- The water is now up to my waist. I’m beginning to realise that the only thing I’ll get to hear before I die is that wretched beeping indicating the vent will open. I don’t even feel like trying anymore as I stare into the vastness of the ocean outside, knowing no one will come for me and wondering if the shapes I’m seeing in the darkness are figments of my imagination or actual threats. Their movement’s only serve to remind of just how exhausted I’ve become. With that thought lingering, I wait.
11:27p.m. With water now up to my chest I feel I’ve not got long. It feels as though oxygen practically has been wiped from my existence. It’s burning in my throat, I want so badly to gasp but nothing would come of it if I tried. It feels redundant to say I wouldn’t wish my coming fate on my worst enemy. I’m slipping in and out now so, I think I’ll just say this, don’t forget me.