Slime

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The pink, speckled jellyfish drift through the water — hundreds, perhaps thousands, of them carried aimlessly along by the ocean currents. Occasionally, one lazily spreads itself out to resemble an undulating disc, trailing tentacles and innards behind it; then swiftly it pulls itself back until it is bell-shaped again. The action propels it rapidly in any direction it chooses.

As they swim, the jellyfish feed on whatever comes their way, sucking minute plankton into the tube-like mouths situated centrally inside the bell, or trapping fish with their tentacles and paralysing them with a quick-acting poison which makes it possible to devour them at leisure.

Coming across a sunken cargo ship is a bonus. The crew of ten is still aboard. The bodies float between the decks or on the bridge in a ghastly dance. Obscenely, the jellyfish settle on them, their tentacles exploring the bloated human skin, probing this new, rich food before deciding it may be safely ingested.

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