Imagine this.

You're in a post-apocalyptic world. Zombies stalk the abandoned streets like plagues of rats. And, in one of your retrieval missions you've realized you're trapped in a T section, with them shambling towards you from all three directions.

In an attempt to calm yourself, you closed your eyes, trying to bring your mind back into the oceans. You didn't become a marine biologist for this.

No. Not for the hordes of zombies, and their disturbing, chunky motions. Their empty eyes, in which you wonder if traces of a sympathetic soul are still left. Their toothless decaying mouth, through which your disassembled skull will most likely be forced through.

FOCUS ON THE CORALS.

You remind yourself, looking at the only way left. The deserted government building at the end of the road. If it was meant to be painted white that color had long been infected by the rust of the apocalypse, and is now white no more. You don't know if there are zombies in the building. 

No, you know nothing about this place. Nothing has gone to plan.

KEEP THINKING ABOUT THE SEA... Please. As you begged yourself to concentrate on the mystery and the blackness of the depth which by now has become a symbol of hope towards which you'll claw and drag yourself away from the pain of the current reality.

"Creatures living in depth beyond that of humanity's reach has," you recited to yourself. "Exhibited signs of abyssal gigantism, the extent of which is still unknown till this day."

Focus on what this meant! You reminded yourself. But it was hard to focus. Because it was the first time you had heard this sort of moans coming from the zombies. 

When the apocalypse had first began, the sounds that the zombies make was easily described as synchronized moaning, but recently rumors began spreading with regards to adapted consciousness. And you now know what it means.

Words! You realized in utmost horror. But it was not words. It was, a sort of mumbling.

But why words? Why would you have that realization? Curious, you looked behind you, searching for an answer.

And then and there you saw the reason. It was the motion. It was the lobbing motion.

It was that, forceful, desperate, lobbing motion, coupled with their once-human faces. 

"help- us-" You read, in the movements of their legs.

It's just hallucination! Idiot! You focus on your last research essay.

Lobbing. The word keeps popping up in your head, as you ran into the building. You hear their footsteps behind you, like drumsticks lobbing unto the tightened skin of the drum, it's vibrations akin to that of the echoing pleads threading the vibrant city that you remember.

REMEMBER THE CREATURES. THINK ABOUT HOW LARGE THEY CAN GET.

You forced your mind back into the moment. 

If they flew they'd probably cover the horizon with their large bodies. 

Yes, cover the horizon of your mind. Let the thought take over, forget the zombies behind you.

They'd probably cover my field of view.

Yes, think about the sea creatures. Their majestic forms darkening the skies.

Lobbing... And there it was again. That word

....

"So, how was your experience?" The psychiatrist asked you. It brought you out of that horrifying post-apocalyptic world. Thankfully.

"Yes, except one word, keep popping up," you said to him. They had hired him to talk to you with regards to the current situation. It's been 2 days since the rising of the dark sun.

No astronomer had managed to develop a theory succinct enough to explain the source of the black star. And then one day, out of the blue, you came up with an, "interesting" perspective.

As the minute passed it gained popularity, now flooding  across the globe.

In the last moments, the doctor had ended your session.

You were proven right, though all is pointless now. Still your mind raced through the reasons that justified the occurrence. You turned around to face the growing body, some shinier blackness shifted amidst the dark entity. That blackness, sees you, seeing it.

Seeing that they-

They're lobbing themselves.