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Jun. 13th, 2008 10:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mistymasseyThe sun was just up, and the surf was quiet. It looked like the start of a perfect day. I went strolling along the water’s edge, wetting my feet and watching the sea birds dip and float on the breeze. There were some seagulls diving on something big a few yards away, and as I got closer, I realized it was a body. I heard a weird noise, like someone in pain, and I freaked. The guy was alive! I ran down to chase the birds away, calling 911 while I ran. They assured me they’d send an ambulance right out.
The poor man must have fallen off a boat or something. He was dressed in a suit, although it looked to be in terrible condition, like he’d been in the water a while. Now that the birds were gone, he was pulling himself out of the waves with his hands. Maybe his back was broken, and he couldn’t move his legs. “Be still,” I called, afraid to touch him and do more damage. “An ambulance is coming.”
There was an incredible stench of rotten fish, and his skin was a mottled gray. A wave crashed over him, pushing him farther onto the beach. The surf tumbled away, and I gasped. There were concrete blocks where his feet should have been! As if he’d been killed by some movie Mafia hitman. I’d always thought the cement overshoes thing was a joke, but this guy was definitely the real deal. He reached out, scrabbling at the sand with torn fingers, moaning. I stepped back, suddenly frightened of him. He dragged himself forward, and as I watched, his left leg gave a hideous wrench, and slid out of his pants. It, too, was gray and rotting, bone showing through in places where fish had eaten the flesh away. It rocked in the surf, forgotten by its owner. His gaze was fixed on me, and he gave a horrible groan.
My belly twisted with nausea, and I stuffed a fist into my mouth to keep from screaming. The man continued pulling himself toward me, moaning, and I realized with horror that I’d seen such things before. The scientists had assured us it couldn’t happen twice. They’d promised. But they were wrong.
The poor man must have fallen off a boat or something. He was dressed in a suit, although it looked to be in terrible condition, like he’d been in the water a while. Now that the birds were gone, he was pulling himself out of the waves with his hands. Maybe his back was broken, and he couldn’t move his legs. “Be still,” I called, afraid to touch him and do more damage. “An ambulance is coming.”
There was an incredible stench of rotten fish, and his skin was a mottled gray. A wave crashed over him, pushing him farther onto the beach. The surf tumbled away, and I gasped. There were concrete blocks where his feet should have been! As if he’d been killed by some movie Mafia hitman. I’d always thought the cement overshoes thing was a joke, but this guy was definitely the real deal. He reached out, scrabbling at the sand with torn fingers, moaning. I stepped back, suddenly frightened of him. He dragged himself forward, and as I watched, his left leg gave a hideous wrench, and slid out of his pants. It, too, was gray and rotting, bone showing through in places where fish had eaten the flesh away. It rocked in the surf, forgotten by its owner. His gaze was fixed on me, and he gave a horrible groan.
My belly twisted with nausea, and I stuffed a fist into my mouth to keep from screaming. The man continued pulling himself toward me, moaning, and I realized with horror that I’d seen such things before. The scientists had assured us it couldn’t happen twice. They’d promised. But they were wrong.
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Date: 2008-06-13 02:53 pm (UTC)