The deep ocean floor, vast and dimly lit in deep indigo and navy blue, with sandy ground scattered in pale sea grass and the occasional slow-drifting jellyfish glowing faintly in the distance. Interior and exterior shot split by the glass porthole of a small round submarine — Sue's face is pressed close to the round porthole glass from inside, eyes wide and bright with excitement, breath fogging the glass slightly. Beyond the porthole, barely visible through the dark water, the ghostly silhouette of a large sunken wooden ship looms in the mid-background, its broken mast tilting at an angle, draped in coral and kelp. A brass compass on the submarine dashboard is visible in the foreground corner, its needle spinning wildly. One curious anglerfish drifts past the porthole with its bioluminescent lure bobbing, completely unaware of being watched.
Our Path

Sue and the Shoes at the Bottom of the Sea

The ocean floor is very quiet. Very dark. Very deep. Sue loves it down here. She presses her nose to the glass of her little submarine and stares out at all that magnificent, mysterious darkness. Her brass compass sits on the dashboard. The needle is spinning like crazy. That means treasure is close. Actually close. Like, right-there close. Sue sits up straight. Through the dark water, she can just make out the shape of something enormous. Old wooden planks. A cracked mast. A ship that sank a long, long time ago. Her stomach goes fizzy with excitement. That special, electric kind of fizzy that only happens when an adventure is about to begin. She grabs her satchel. She checks her goggles. Time to dive.