An Unsavory Tide

“Marooned in the tide’s ever flowing sway. There is no pause, and any guilt washes away with each crashing wave.
Choices move from many to one.
Fear wallows up within.
Hope is but distant memory.
When death’s hand comes hither, say nay as long as you can. Return with whoever has been made to find thee, do not hesitate nor assume there will be another opportunity.
Soul be taken, life now gone, watch thyself fade.
Wither unto oblivion.
Never smile again.”

Paul frowned.

Whatever the writing meant seemed irrelevant in light of other circumstances, and yet that underlying sense of dead remained.

Staring at the crinkled parchment in his hand was a sight in of itself. Could have been written on traditional paper but instead this was an aged and rough variety. Hand made perhaps. Thicker than the average page and with a weight he found himself rather disliking.

Orin returned a glum look after waving his own flashlight along the rocks, sweeping to be sure that in this dead of night there was in fact only one body. Or rather, what was left.

“Why do we get all the creep shows?” Orin asked, still peering into the darkness as if they would be next to be left in pieces.

Paul chuckled, “Don’t tell me you’re afraid boyo.”

Orin turned and raised an eyebrow, “you ever see something like this before?”

Paul shook his head in a clear ‘no,’ but then spoke his mind, “she’s gone through something foul, I’m with you there. Still we’ve got our protection.”

Paul tapped the 9mm pistol at his hip, a similar weapon was possessed by Orin, was the only true power they held to uphold the badges hanging from each neck.

Still, even as Orin dismissed the response, Paul knew there was some reason to fear. They were dealing with a bear or some sort of animal neither had dealt with before.

They had already called animal control but at this late hour, wasn’t likely they’d be by quick. Right now it was just the handful of other officers that had roped off the scene, the few detectives, and cleanup crew en route.

The blood was everywhere beyond the ocean’s reach. The small walking trail above the rocks looked as if someone had exploded like some sort of gooey pinata.

No wonder dispatch had warned them the witness was terrified. One moment her friend was jogging along, the next… some sort of animalistic noise followed by a feeling of warmth.

Paul thought about what happened, or at least what the living girl had said happened. If whatever it was struck that fast, how could either he or Orin shoot in time?

They could only hope the thing was satiated with that half of a girl’s body it dragged off.

The thought was both grisly and nightmarish all at once.

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Interested in more?

For a longer short story, also on the topic of despairing waters, check out THE FISHERMAN.

Click a link or find on Amazon Kindle, by Marcus Liotta.