The sea was eerily calm that morning. The sun shimmered on the surface like liquid glass, and the ship glided forward as if the ocean itself were asleep. Everything felt ordinary — until a lookout shouted from the deck.

“Captain! There’s something ahead!”

At first, it looked like a buoy — a perfect, round shape bobbing gently among the waves. But as the ship drew closer, the men realized it was far too large. A huge green sphere, glistening, metallic, impossibly smooth.

The captain raised his binoculars and frowned.
“That’s no buoy,” he muttered. “And it’s not ours.”

The crew gathered at the railing, uneasy. The object didn’t drift like debris — it was steady, almost deliberate. Its surface reflected light in an unnatural way, and faint patterns — tiny bumps and ridges — could be seen beneath the sheen.

No signal appeared on the radar. The radio was silent. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

One of the sailors reached out with a pole and tapped the sphere.
A deep, hollow clang echoed back. There was something inside.

The captain made a decision: “Bring it aboard.”

The crane groaned as it lifted the strange thing from the water. Beneath it, a whirlpool formed — as if the sea resisted letting go. When the sphere finally settled on the deck, its weight vibrated through the floor.

It was cold to the touch, yet faintly pulsing, like a heartbeat under metal skin.

“This isn’t just steel,” the ship’s engineer whispered. “It feels… alive.”

Moments later, hairline cracks appeared across the surface — not random, but forming precise symmetrical patterns. A green light began to glow from within.

Then, suddenly, they all heard it.

Not through their ears, but inside their heads.

A whisper — dozens of voices speaking at once, echoing in languages no one could recognize. But the meaning was clear: fear… pain… and a warning.

“Do you hear that?” someone shouted. “It’s speaking!”

The captain ordered the object locked below deck, but before the men could move it, the ship shuddered violently. Compasses spun. The radio exploded into static. The ocean around them began to glow with the same sickly green hue.

Something moved beneath the water.
Long lines of light — like a chain of glowing eyes — stretched into the depths.

“They’re not reflections,” murmured the engineer. “There are more of them.”

And then the sphere opened.

A thick green mist poured out, spreading over the deck. One of the sailors — a young radio operator named Collins — was caught in it. The others could only watch in horror as the fog wrapped around him like smoke.

When it cleared, Collins stood perfectly still. His skin had turned ashen gray, his eyes glowing with the same unearthly light.

“They’re coming back…” he said in a voice that wasn’t his.

Panic erupted. Some men tried to push the sphere back into the sea, but it wouldn’t budge. Metal tools, bolts, even parts of the ship began to tear loose and slide toward it — drawn as if by an invisible force.

The captain, trembling, fired a flare gun straight into the sphere.
A blinding flash. A thunderous bang. And then — silence.

When the light faded, the sphere was gone.
In its place lay a perfect circular mark, smooth as melted glass.

Collins lay unconscious on the deck. When they lifted him, he opened his eyes and whispered:
“It’s under us…”

Then came a sound — a deep, rumbling hum from the ocean floor. The water began to churn, glowing brighter and brighter, as dozens of green orbs started to rise toward the surface.

The captain barely managed to send a distress call before the ship lurched violently to one side.

That was the last message ever received.

A day later, rescuers found only fragments — scorched, twisted metal as if it had been burned by something not of this world. The sphere was never recovered.

But the sea has never been the same since.
Fishermen now speak of green lights beneath the waves, of compasses that spin without reason, and of whispers that echo through static when you tune a radio to 13.7 MHz.

Some say it’s a warning.
Others believe it’s an invitation.
But everyone agrees on one thing —
those who answer the call… never return.