Being a hydra requires patience. I recently discovered that people are terrified of me, but of course, even I would run if I saw a seven-headed beast approaching me. I can't judge, but it hurts quite a bit not to have friends at the bottom of the sea.
The only company I have are some shells or super-bacteria resistant to heat and pressure, other than that, nothing besides my heads serves for conversation. If I were to make a comparison, it's like holding puppets. For instance, I even took time to replicate a stage play, using two heads, one wearing a seaweed wig and the other with a pointed stone wrapped around its neck.
"Oh, Ptolemaia, don't run away, my love!"
"McDonald, please don't insist, we were never meant for each other."
I use a tissue to wipe the snot from one of the heads, which is crying over the incredible scene.
"What acting!"
"Nobel-worthy..."
"What a beautiful thing..."
I think I'm going absolutely crazy!
Who wouldn't go crazy kilometers below the water level, alone in deep darkness and having to manage in the body of a hydra? At least I have company from myself, which is better than a lot of people.
Besides, in the last few days, I've felt very happy about moving. Those neighbors from before were too loud, bothering me every day with cannons, this neighborhood I moved in is much quieter, and I'm grateful for that.
It's daytime, so there are a few boats floating on the surface, I even guess one is a fishing boat considering the nets loose on the sides. It's interesting to observe the maritime movement from up here, but sometimes I wish for a little more interaction.
"What if we gave them a gift?"
"They might like us!"
"No, idiot, that will scare them!"
"But what harm is there? It's not like I lack food."
After holding an emergency meeting with my heads, we had three votes in favor, two against, one null, because the last head was just focused on eating another giant octopus.
I decided it would be a good idea to give a present to the fishermen, it's a sign of good neighborliness. Be pleasant to others so they don't try to do anything bad to you later.
I hunt a giant shark, but not just any one, I choose one I nicknamed "Deep Mouth", because they have such a large mouth that it looks like it was drawn by a child. The chase doesn't last long, my electric head releases a shock, my ice head freezes a fin, and the sound head lets out a bellow that would disorient even a whale, taking down the specimen.
I hold the enormous carcass with the mouth of my acid head (which tries its best not to get acid on the present, because we are polite) and swim to the shallower part where the nets are stretched out.
With all the care in the world, I place the shark inside the net like someone gently placing a loaf of bread in a breakfast basket. The net sinks under the weight, but it doesn't tear.
Perfect.
I retreat to the shadows, peeking my eyes above the edge of the crevice. I learned my lesson last time: appearing by surprise leaves humans traumatized, so now I watch hidden, like an introverted monster. The fishermen finally notice the weight.
"Hey! The net pulled down all at once!"
"Must have snagged on a rock..."
They pull. When the shark's head appears, one of the men drops his oar.
"BY THE BEARDS OF THE KING... look at the size of that bite!!"
"This thing... why was this torn off?! By a monster?!"
The shark's mouth is partially crushed, as if it had been pulverized by a divine hydraulic press. In truth, that was the result of one of my heads, but they don't need to know that.
The older fisherman, however, gets a shine in his eyes.
"Lads... let's call it an early day. This thing pays for the whole month!"
The others cheer.
"Seriously?!"
"I don't believe it!"
"The sea is blessing us!"
From underwater, my seven heads observe, all raising imaginary eyebrows.
"They're happy..."
"They liked the gift?"
"It seems so!"
"They called it a blessing."
"A blessing! We are a blessing!"
"I'm emotional..."
"M-me too... sniff."
The fishermen prepare to return to the coast, excited, grateful, talking about going home early to see their families. This warms my cold, seven-layered heart.
"This means..."
"That we can help more often..."
"Do some good neighborly service!"
"We're the protector of the sea!"
"The supreme seafood delivery guy!"
The excitement of my heads lasts for a while, but soon the sea calls my attention again. Since moving to this part of the ocean, I've been trying to learn more about my new "neighborhood", if you can even call a cold, quiet abyss in the middle of nowhere that.
I start swimming deeper, leaving the light behind until everything becomes dark blue, then truly black. Creatures I never saw when I was human live here.
There's a fish I discovered yesterday, a plump creature with a pair of luminous antennae hanging where its eyebrows should be. It swims like a tired old man and lets out a strange moan when it sees my heads approaching.
Further on, I find a species of transparent crab, whose legs glow when it taps them. It moves very quickly.
For the first time, I encounter a creature that sees me and doesn't run away in a panic. I think it's because my eyes shine when I'm in the dark, I've noticed that. It must look like just... moving light.
There are also those giant red algae that sway on their own, even when there's no current. I swear some seem to move, changing direction when I pass.
One day, I saw one of them recoil as if embarrassed. I don't know if that was real or just my mind betraying me after so long in a hydra's body.
Further ahead, I find what I've nicknamed the "Whispering Pit". I don't know how to explain it... the water there vibrates constantly.
My first instinct was to think it was a monster bigger than me, like an uglier cousin, but no. They are rock formations that release bubbles at perfect intervals, the sound echoes in all seven heads simultaneously. It's quite relaxing once you get used to not thinking you're being chased by ghosts.
After some time exploring, I return home, a huge crevice between two rock plates. The place is cozy... aside from the smell of sulfur that sometimes rises from the depths. It still needs a personal touch, but things like that take time.
I try to pull some pretty shells to organize the floor, but my tail squeezes too hard and they break.
"Clumsy!" one of the heads grumbles.
I ignore it, trying to use another head to pick up a flat rock I found yesterday. It could serve as a table. But my mouth is too big, and I end up tearing off half the edge of the stone.
"There, ruined" says the grumpiest head.
I use another head to grab a fluorescent algae and hang it on the wall, but my bite tears the stalk.
"I miss fingers..."
I try to make crooked piles of shells, an improvised algae mural, a grandstand of rocks that collapses three times... everything falls apart because I have too much strength.
On the fourth collapse, all the heads say together:
"Aaaaaaah!!"
We fall silent afterward, staring at the chaos we call decoration.
"Well... it has personality..."
"Yeah, murder scene personality."
In the end, I lie down on the cold floor of the crevice, with my seven heads spread out, looking at the "decorative mess".
"At least I tried…"
The sea vibrates faintly, bringing echoes of the world above. The fishermen will definitely return tomorrow. They pass by here every day, I've taken the time to observe them and concluded that it happens daily.
Even alone at the bottom of the ocean, I feel like... I'm not so alone after all. They might not know I'm here, but I'm their secret neighbor, and that's something, and it makes me happy.