Young Writers Society

(this is just a first draft so plz be nice when you reveiw it.

enjoy!)

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The last few people were walking off the beach. It was a slow day today. Nobody drowning or getting into trouble. I might as well have not have been here at all. People don’t need lifeguards as much as they did about a year ago. I packed my stuff up and started to leave. The beach seemed like it changed at night, I thought as I walked up the beach. It seemed to get more mysterious when the sun goes down. I realised I left my watch beside the ‘tall chair’ on the beach.

As I went to go back and pick it up I stared at the ocean. It had a hypnotising quality about it. I could have stared at it all night. watching the waves going in and out and in and out almost put me in a trance. I loved to watch the top of each wave as it curled over and crashed into the sand.

As I watched it I realised that each time the wave curled over the foamy part at the top got larger.

Now it seemed like the waves were crashing against something. There must be a rock out there. But then why did it get larger and larger each time a wave came in? it was as if the waves were pushing it towards me.

But no. it was moving on its own.

It was only 15 meters away from me now. Because of the darkness I couldn’t make out the details of this…thing.

Was it an animal? Maybe a tortoise or a seal?

It stopped. It was at least 12 feet away from me. I started to shake from cold…and from fear. I couldn’t be sure, because of the lack of light, but it looked like it was…standing up!

It was crouching on two legs in front of me.

It was a man.

I could now see the reflection of the moon in its…his eyes. And then… he sprung! As he knocked me over with his fist sending me flying 5 feet away, I heard his scream. It was more a snarl then a scream. It was high pitched and horrible. So, so horrible.

When I opened my eyes he was looking down on me.

I froze in horror.

“40 years” he whispered. His voice had a wavering tone in it. Not the kind that you get in your voice when you’re about to cry, The kind that that you get when your throat has been sliced from the inside. It was not normal at all.

“40 years. 40 years in that wretched ocean. 40 years ever since it attacked me. 40 long, lonely, horrific years!” it screamed once more.

“Wh-wh-who-who ar-are y-y-you?” I said in paralyzing fear. He didn’t seem to hear me.

“and now…” he carried on. “land! Land! I am on land! No more water! No more everlasting blue and pain!” he looked dazed and disoriented as he examined the beach. “The ground seems to be rippling. Everything is choppy, like the waves of that haunting ocean. It must be a mirage.”

“who-who are yo-you?” I said a little more steady. He still didn’t hear me. However a look of alarm swept on his face.

“The beast!” he screamed

“The beast! Ahh the wretched beast! It stalked me for 40 years! I thought I would outlive it. But it hunted me for 40 damned years!

Tentacles the size of an island! And it spoke to me!”

I could see the haunted look in his eyes. Fear had worn away everything that he was. His soul, his being was beyond repair.