Breath: On a Dark Night in Scotland...

My breath was burning in my starving lungs, I was lost in the depths of the beast's slitted gaze. I had made the mistake of disturbing its secret, underwater lair. The bared teeth made it clear that this transgression would not be excused. The sneering grimace only highlighted the gruesome bits of fur from a previous meal caught between incisors.

The great beast's scales reflected dull black against the razor edge of my diver's headlamp. Fear wrung at my insides, twisted them into new knots as I floated in the darkness eye-to-eye with the monster. It's colossal size and imposing presence told me the beast was beyond ancient. Its massive head was horned with hellish protrusions. In the harsh blue-white illumination, they seemed like nothing so much as weirdly mutated obsidian stalagmites.

The aberration's slimy tongue slithered along its armored lips, and I wondered if it could taste my fear smothering the space we shared. It was a vicious predator, of that there was no doubt. I struggled against the deafening throb of my heart to keep myself afloat in the face of the beast's grotesque presence. I understood with crystal clarity why it was described as 'petrifying' and 'otherworldly'. This horrible, winged behemoth -- this Lach Ness Monster -- would wait patiently for my strength to fail, for me to drown.