Brigands Key

An excerpt…

Grant gripped the lamp and pointed downward. All was blackness, a peculiar clear blackness, with flecks of white drifting and surging through.

The primeval fear of the unknown ran through him. Blackness, water with no bottom …

Down he went, sweeping all directions with the beam of his lamp.

The slope came into view. To his right, the craggy limestone plunged into the depths at forty-five degrees. Sea fans clung to it, waving in the currents, and sponges and urchins gave it an otherworldly beauty, brilliantly colored, starkly shadowed, in the glow of the lamp.

He followed the slope downward.

Forty, fifty, sixty feet. Equalizing the pressure in his head. Seventy …

And then he saw it.

He stared in disbelief, forgetting to breathe.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Scroll to Top