The Haunting of Shandy Bay Part IV
My name is Sunny Alexander. And I’m Henry James and we’re writers for Dark Sides of the Truth Magazine.
Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Conclusion
Back at the motel we split company and tucked it in to grab a little sleep before we went back to Shandy Bay.
Something was happening at midnight and we both intended to have front row seats.
We took Sunny’s car to a place on the west side of the bay, and after serious discussion and a whole bunch of griping from the elderly generation in the car, decided to park along the side of the road some distance away from the overlook and walk.
It was a moonless night, which didn’t make the trek any easier. Neither of us enjoyed walking in ditches along the side of the road in total darkness. But the last thing we wanted was someone discovering Sunny’s vehicle and tipping off whomever decided to show up.
Breezes from the ocean were thick with moisture, sheets of humidity clinging to our clothing, covering our skin with a sheen of oppressing dampness.
After a couple of tumbles, at times landing on our butts on the sandy cut through the back beach wall, things leveled out and we made it to the arc of trees. Instead of picking out a park bench we chose to make ourselves uncomfortable in the tall grass behind the picnic area.
We spoke in hushed whispers, swatting mosquitoes as large as pterodactyls, waiting for something, anything to happen.
“Henry what time is it?”
“Fifteen minutes past the last time you asked.”
“I’m getting eaten alive out here.”
“Hmmm, they aren’t bothering me.”
“Why would they? It’d be like drinking pure vinegar.”
“Damn you’re just a regular comedian tonight ain’t ya Alexander. Gimme the binoculars for a minute. That way you’ve got both hands free to swat.”
“Very funny. Here.”
“Well, well, well right on time, but hang on. What the hell is that?”
“What? Let me see.”
After staring for a minute we both leaned against the hard packed dirt of the beach wall. Neither of us said anything and after again taking turns with the binoculars we slumped back into the tall grass.
“A skeleton? Seriously Henry? A skeleton walking down the trail?
“And heading to that cave we checked out earlier.”
“Gotta be some kind of a joke.”
“Sunny what sane person would dress up as a skeleton and come waltzing to this beach at midnight?”
“Are you saying it’s real? That’s bullshit Henry. Skeletons don’t suddenly appear and start walking around. That’s utter nonsense.”
“Yeah just like the ghost of Baxter Huntley. I suppose that was nonsense too.”
With that we kept to our own thoughts for several minutes, hearing nothing but the sounds of mosquitoes buzzing in our ears and the rustling of the waves breaking against the beach line.
In our line of work we’ve witnessed some really crazy things. We’ve come to believe that things are what they seem to be, until they’re not.
Then we heard a long, piercing wail splitting the night stillness. Over and over it rose and fell, the crescendo almost piercing our ears. It sounded as though it was coming from the largest cave and we didn’t need the binoculars to see what happened next.
Brilliant strobes of light began to flicker from the mouth of the cave, pouring out in all directions, casting a dark and yet somehow dazzling purplish hue across the water and into the sky as if someone had ignited a monstrous black light.
The skeleton was standing at the mouth of the cave, it’s arms outstretched as if imploring something from the blackened sky to appear.
“Henry look.”
From the water, covering the entire expanse of the beach from east to west five skeleton heads surfaced. We watched as the skeletal remains rose higher as they trudged through the frothy tide. The water was at their chest, then their hips and as their spindly, bony arms and clawed hands rose above the water line we saw brilliant blue bolts of electricity dancing around their finger tips.
All five stopped at the water’s edge and turned to face the cave. Then one by one they turned and began to plod inward.
“Oh, my freaking God Henry. What the hell are they doing?”
“They’re sweeping the beach. If we don’t get the hell out of here we’re done.”
We both began to sidestep along the the beach wall with the intent to make it to the cut and get the hell out of there.
We didn’t get far.
A very large score of bony silhouettes was walking in a long straight line down the cut. The very trail we need to go up. We crouched in the tall grass and watched as the lead mass of bones and…bones, veered a hard right to the boardwalk.
One by one they entered the cave, passing by the first who was still summoning only God knows what, with outstretched arms. The piercing strains of the wail continued, shattering our nerves, but it didn’t seem to affect the endless line of specters. They all passed by, disappeared into the cave, then reappeared each of them with a large square package in their hands.
It was as if an army of ants was marching into a hive but instead of dropping off food, they were picking some up and leaving.
“Henry, they’re almost on us.”
We both knew trying to fight our way out of this wasn’t going to work. First off, and neither of us were willing to admit it just yet, if these skeletons were the real deal, bullets wouldn’t bother them a bit.
Second, if they were something we could kill, we didn’t have near enough ammunition to bag them all. It would only be a matter of seconds before whatever they were returned fire and killed us, or the sheer number of them managed to breach our position and overwhelm us.
Our only choice was to climb.
“Up, we go up.”
We both began to dig the toes of our boots and shoes into the hard packed beach wall, clawing at roots, branches, tufts of grass, anything we thought would hold our weight.
When we reached branches of a spindly tree jutting out of the bank, providing us just enough purchase to pull ourselves up is when we heard the crackling of energy from just beneath us, felt fire rippling up our legs and then…
Nothing.
Darkness overtook the both of us.
READ ON THE HAUNTING OF SHANDY BAY PART V
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