Lars leaned against the rusted railing, his breath visible in the cold air as he stared into the endless expanse of the ocean. The ship creaked beneath his boots, a sound that had become a constant companion in these solitary waters.
"Another day, another catch," he murmured to himself, adjusting the camera strapped to his chest—a device that had become both a lifeline and a witness to his solitude.
Lars stepped forward, his curiosity piqued by the alien material. It was unlike anything he had ever seen, a shifting mass of colors that seemed to breathe with a life of its own.
"What in the world is that?" he muttered, reaching out to touch it, only to recoil at the sudden warmth emanating from the unknown substance.
Lars watched in horror as his crewmates began to change, their skin turning a ghastly shade of greenish-gray. Faces that had been familiar morphed into grotesque masks, devoid of emotion or recognition.
"It's spreading... changing them," he whispered to the camera, his voice trembling with fear as he recorded the nightmare unfolding before him.
"I don't know how much longer I can hold out," he confessed to the camera, his voice a desperate plea for salvation that he knew would never come. The infected crew roamed the ship, their footsteps a constant reminder of the fate that awaited him.
"If anyone finds this... know that we found something beyond our understanding," he said, his voice steady despite the terror rising within him. "There's no escape... only the end."
The recording continued until the battery died, the final image a blurred frame of chaos and a chilling reminder that some mysteries of the deep are better left undiscovered.
