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Beach – Creepypasta

13 Jun Beach


📅 Revealed on June 13, 2019 Written by Andrew Pendragon

Estimated studying time — eight minutes

I nonetheless dream concerning the ocean, waves capped with foam, the whispered poetry of excessive tide, pools crammed with brine-crusted treasures. I dream about storms and faces. A roar of thunder wakes me to a chilly sweat and an empty room, and I attempt to fall again asleep. I attempt to dream of one thing else, however the sea by no means fails to roll into my thoughts and drown my thoughts until one other storm brews.

My uncle and I lived on a personal seashore in South Carolina for a long time, and I fell in love with the scenery virtually immediately. For the first couple of months, I used to be enrolled in a nearby public faculty, but sitting still wasn’t actually one thing I was good at. The world was a lot greater than the 4 walls of that classroom. The nervousness of a world passing me by, a model of worry usually reserved for twenty-somethings or prematurely balding men in their forties, overwhelmed me to such a level that I used to be taken out of faculty altogether.

To my dismay although, the time that I had previously spent within the classroom was not changed with excursions on the Atlantic. Once I asked why I couldn’t a minimum of experience with him, my uncle would simply say that fishing boats have been harmful even with out youngsters operating around. So, I wandered by means of my days alone, barefoot on the winding shores of the Atlantic. The portion of the seashore where our little bungalow rested was technically personal, however the occasional pedestrian would ghost their method onto the sand, unbothered or unaware of their trespassing.

From the attic window, I might watch them: males, ladies, and the occasional teenager. I questioned where they came from and where they have been going as soon as they left, and I might try to muster some courage now and again to speak to them. I all the time stopped brief at the door although. I all the time felt like I might be bothering them.

One evening, after Uncle had left, I spied some lights over by the dune behind us. In the grass and reeds, a boy and a woman sat talking within the glow of a lantern. They have been young, but the two drank from the identical sort of beer cans that we had in our fridge. My coronary heart slipped its paces excitedly. I scurried into the kitchen and snapped one of many frosty cylinders from its plastic collar. Returning to my window, I perched myself on a couch cushion upon the ground and opened my drink. Once I spied a look back to the couple, I discover that they had stripped off all their clothes and discarded them onto the sand.

They rolled on prime of each other in ways that appeared so alien to me on the time, and I felt a guilty worry wriggling in my chest. Tears warped my vision as I positioned the can to my mouth. The odor was virtually as foul as the taste, however I’m not one to let things spoil. I completed the contents and averted my eyes to my ft, solely to seek out myself wandering a peek again to the dune. Once they completed, they laid there for an extended whereas, bare in one another’s arms.

That longing, that compulsion to make myself recognized struck me more durable than it ever had before. I was heavy inside, like my heart was filled with pebbles. The two left after an hour or so, and I whisked out of the house and up the dune once their mild had pale utterly into the space. The dry, scrubby grass round their spot had been flattened in an virtually good circle. There, amidst their abandoned cans and foil wrappers that sported the phrases “ultra-thin,” I hugged my knees to my chin and stared on the moon. I felt like one of the gulls or small sea birds that scuttle by means of the tides and build their nests in the very same grasses. I was greater than them, although, and so much smaller.

It was that night time that I first dreamed of the ocean. I stood on the shoreline watching the waves roll stars into coiling swells of sidereal glitter. The breeze caught the crests of the water and threw mist into the air and onto my face. From the water breached a determine dressed in a superb, black go well with. His flesh was swollen and pale, and open fissures left from nibbling fish speckled his face and arms. A wierd, starfish-like creature slept between his tooth. The physique drifted up the seashore till the crown of his head rested proper at my toes, and I questioned the place he had come from.

I awoke the subsequent morning on the front porch, yawning because the solar squinted just above the horizon. Three yards from the house, about midway up the seashore lay the suited man. The sea breeze slipped a string of my hair between my pursed lips, and I stood to my ft.

The seashore was empty, save for the man and I. After a sluggish strategy, I stood over him for an extended while and stared into his cloudy eyes. I assumed that he should have been a pleasant individual earlier than; he appeared that means at the very least. One would assume that such a factor would stink extra, however this was surprisingly not the case. He smelled of scaled fish or perhaps snow crab, which isn’t a completely disagreeable aroma to some. The musk saturated his garments like cologne. I sat beside him and watched the solar develop right into a full, luminous orb. The light was heat towards my skin, and shutting my eyes, I slipped my hand into his for just a while.

Sweat was starting to grow on my nostril once I finally opened my eyes, and I watched as a hermit crab tittered from his pants pocket. Patting sand from my legs, I headed inside for a drink. Once my glass was full, I stood at the aspect window and watched the man some more. I needed to maintain him there, truthfully; let him sleep for as long as he favored. I absolutely meant to, but a flight of gulls had found him and had begun pecking on the buttons on his coat.

Dashing out, I shooed away the birds. A few the cussed ones waited till I used to be proper up on them earlier than fluttering a protected distance away. The pack stayed close sufficient to swoop in again, simply in case I left him unattended; they are a bothersome variety. Clearly, he wasn’t protected to be left alone.

His footwear scooped into the sand like trowels as I attempted to tug him farther up the seashore till they each popped off, shiny toes peeking out from the sand. The gulls raced to the footwear and plucked at the laces till their knots slipped unfastened. Once I simply couldn’t pull him any farther, I started to dig a small trench with my naked arms. It was shallow, however once he was coated in sand, he blended right into the landscape. I needed to return his footwear to him before he was utterly buried, however the seagulls had already made away with them and have been squawking mockingly over the water.

Staring on the distant thieves, a shiny flicker of sunshine caught me in the eye. I blocked the beam with a closed palm then peaked around my arm. Within the sand, not too removed from where the footwear had once been, was a reflective sheet no larger than a notice card. I rose and fished it from the sand.

A mint tin.

The again had been rubbed bare and shiny, but the entrance still sported embossed letters and crisp blue and white paint. “Curiously strong!” the tin announced, and I opened it like an oyster shucker on the lookout for pearls. There have been, in fact, no pearls. There was nothing, nothing however a couple of dots of rust, but that was superb enough. I didn’t truly anticipate there to be any candies left over, but I questioned if that they had been his. Perhaps the container had fallen from his coat. I questioned if he had eaten its contents and stored the tin. In that case, for what purpose? Maybe if that they had been wolfed up by a lucky eel that simply occurred to move him by. It was also solely attainable that it had not been his at all and had settled on the seashore during excessive tide. They have been all fun ideas, however I selected to choose the first. I also chose to maintain the tin for protected maintaining.

I by no means expected to fill it up so shortly, and I dreamed of the sea each night time after that. Typically, I dreamed of men and women far off the coast, drifting in open waters. I dreamed of nice creatures with gleaming, bulbous eyes, watching them bob along the floor just above. I dreamed of palms with pale flesh tightly wrapped round gaunt fingers that reached from black fissures on the sea flooring. I dreamed of bodies washing ashore, and once I awoke, there they lay.

Every one I buried, and every one left me with a small trinket that I stored in my little tin of treasures. The sea introduced me new faces virtually each morning, typically as many as three at a time. After the primary couple, I started digging their beds with a shovel as an alternative of my arms, which I had worn down until the pores and skin was so uncooked that it seemed like I was sporting pink gloves.

My goals got here like nightly postcards to inform me of a pal’s shortly approaching arrival. There were occasions when these letters advised me that plans had modified, and I might not be visited by that specific sender. Some have been extra vivid, extra descriptive than others.

“Sorry to alarm you, but I have sunken to the sea floor. I may be very late. Pardon the inconvenience. Sincerely: a woman in a low-cut dress.”

“I regret to inform you that I have been swallowed whole. Always: the boy with glasses.”

“To whom it may concern, my body has fallen into a crag, and my present company leaves a lot to be desired. I expect that I won’t be able to depart before I have been picked clean, if I am able to leave at all. Wishing you well: a pile of bones.”

Those by no means got here, but once I dreamed of them sloshing on shore, I all the time discovered them the subsequent morning, cold and nonetheless. This business had stored me so occupied that I almost screamed the day I noticed a jeep come cresting over the grassy dune one evening, disrupting the routine that had given me so much joy for over two months. A lady in a skirt climbed from the car, holding black heels with a hooked finger as she marched via the sand. One way or the other, she knew my identify, and she or he yelled for me over a violent wind that warned of an approaching storm.

I discovered later that her identify was Charlie, and she or he was filled with questions. She needed to know the place Uncle was and if I had seen him just lately. I advised her that he hadn’t been residence in months, a incontrovertible fact that stunned me as much as it did her. Truthfully, I didn’t understand how long it had been till that point. She and I sat inside for an extended whereas. She appeared by means of our cupboards and closets; she appeared nervous about something. Ultimately, she stopped asking so many questions and informed me to pack some garments right into a backpack.

I didn’t protest an excessive amount of. Charlie wouldn’t answer questions, which appeared pretty unfair at the time. I asked her if she was taking me away, however all she would say is, “We can talk about that in the car.” I requested her if my dad had actually tried to kill my mother. Again, she stated we might talk about it within the automotive, but once I hopped in the again seat together with her, I didn’t really feel like talking anymore. Charlie tried to ask more questions as a man in a go well with drove us away from the seashore. She would attempt to contact my head or my hand, however I shrank away.

Sooner or later on our drive, I fell asleep with my cheek pressed towards the window glass, and I had a dream. This time, I dreamed of wind, indignant wind. Wind that clawed throughout the seashore with invisible talons. It splashed from the water and tore off the roof from the bungalow. It pounced down onto the dune and peeled away sand like sheets from a mattress. The longer the storm raged the extra it revealed on the seashore, wiping away the earthen lids on 100 shallow graves. Rogue waves climbed into the air before crashing down, greedily grabbing the bodies because it receded.

Then, as another pillar of water fell upon the shore, the sea gave up one last present. A well-known likeness, dressed in yellow, rubber waders rolled along the seashore like a rag-doll. The drive of the wave buried his head utterly into the sand. Another wave crashed towards the physique, and the neck snapped as his torso rolled within the wake.

I awoke at that moment to a clatter. I was lying in an empty room on a couch padded with stiff cushions. Buzzing fluorescent mild flickered above, and a heavy rain roared outdoors, cascading over a number of small home windows beside me. I craned my neck to find a rusted mint tin lying open on the floor, its contents littering the world around me. I scooped up the treasures and placed them one after the other back into their chest. When it was full again, I closed it, held it tightly to my chest, and shut my eyes. I didn’t know if I might have the ability to go to sleep again, but quickly I might hear the cries of gulls.

Credit score: Andrew Pendragon (The Dragon’s Horde Podcast • Soundcloud • Reddit • Clovetown Subreddit)

🔔 Extra stories from writer: Andrew Pendragon

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