Gentle Coast

I often had the strange feeling of solitude that has me wondering if I am truly alone. After all, there was nobody in sight, but if felt like there was somebody always with me. Some would attribute this to a strange sense, perhaps a loose screw or two, but I believe it meant there was actually someone there that I couldn’t quite communicate with.

First, I live by a secluded coast line where the nearest person, aside from myself, was a shopkeeper an hours drive away. I often drove there for my food and other amenities, but never further. I simply had no reason to, so I was in a sense, alone. However, that didn’t stop me from feeling that off-putting feeling.

Gathering myself one day to ask the question, I requested of the shopkeeper a Ouija board, certain technical parts and a book on the supernatural. I had always received many funny looks from the shopkeeper, but this time he gave me the funniest. Still, my money was good.

A month had passed of waiting and soon I received my ordered products while doing my shopping. Returning home, I cracked open the thick book on occultism and the supernatural. Learning as much as I could before finishing the last page, I immediately sprang towards the Ouija board and began communicating with...nothing.

Following the instruction manual on the back, I found that there was nothing in the house to communicate with and after a little stroll on the beach, nothing at the shore line. I found it dreadfully curious, but I still believe that if it wasn’t a ghost watching me, it was something else.

Still, in that moment, I had some clarity on the situation and the feeling of being watched subsided, if only a little. However, after saying goodbye to the spirits as instructed, I believe that there was something different in my little home. A presence more physical and it began to express itself in the pipes. At least, I wrote it off as the pipes.

There was a terrific banging later that night coming from the walls. It was as if something was trapped inside it, so I made to investigate in the hope of getting some answers. However, I must admit, I did feel a strange sense of fear as I took the axe to the wall. My manic state was broken by a sense of insecurity.

Once the last thud of metal on wood echoed in my room, I pried the loose pieces revealing nothing in the walls, but a pipe I scratched with my axe. Disappointed, tired and uneasy, I threw my axe to the ground and went back to bed. I slept like a rock, but my mind did not.

I was welcomed into a dream of darkness, of strange creatures and malicious forces who were bent on putting me a deep grave. Of course, that never came to pass. I walked through the darkness, despite my angered pursuers. Feeling no fear, I felt their claws dug into my back and neck. The pain filled me like fire, but I did not react. I didn’t know how to.

I woke up calm and rested, however, I also woke up knowing something I shouldn’t have. Leaving my home, without even taking the time to put on shoes or fresh clothes, I ran towards the beach. Once my feet hit the sand, I pushed myself faster until I reached the right point in the beach where a dead bird lay.

It’s face was mangled, the feathers charred from fire, but the eyes stood out clearly. A piercing black bead focused on the ocean ahead of it. With my way pointed out, I stepped into the cold water and waded through that early morning. Further and further out to sea, I began to feel something slide against my feet.

At the right touch, I took a deep breath and sank into the water. With the early morning light diluted by grey clouds, the gentle sea had a dark green tone that only grew darker the deeper I sank. I didn’t struggle, I didn’t freak out. I was not dreaming, but it certainly felt like it.

Soon it became too dark for me to see anything, but my feet finally hit the floor of the ocean. Two steps forward and the sand turned from soft to hard, finally my feet felt the added cold of rusted metal. I bent low and felt along it’s surface till something felt familiar. Clutching at it, fumbling as I became dizzy, but soon got a good hold.

With a strong kick, I pushed myself up and began to rise to the surface. I broke the surface only a minute later, my lungs burning. Coughing and spluttering, I crawled to the short and onto the sand. The cold water lapping against me kept me awake and once my heart had settled, I marched home.

Only when I walked through the front door did I look down as what was in my hand. It was an old wooden box, rusted at the hinges. The wood was bloated, but still holding. It was modern enough for me to realize it was airtight. Else it might have been a lot heavier.

I placed the box on the floor, returned to my bedroom and retrieved the axe which waited for me. Once in front of the box again, I brought the axe down on the lock again and again. I missed at some points, digging the blade into my floorboards, but soon the lock shattered enough to pull it loose.

Quickly, I pulled the lid open, the hinges bending and then snapping. Inside the box was metal pendant. Thick, made from a dark brown material. It might have been iron, but I felt that it was something else.

Set in the centre of the pendant were two curved plates. The two rested against each other until I brushed my thumb across the pendant. The plates slid back in a familiar action, revealing the human eyes, oozing a salty puss. The eye blinked its metal eyelids and then focused on me. The pupil dilated as it recognised me.

Finally, I found what was watching me all this time.

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