Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #12 March 2015 | Page 22

midnight space.
A squeal cut through the rhythm of the waves, rousing
Marsha from her half-sleep. Her eyes had adjusted to
the darkness enough to make out the ocean, the black
water and the white crest of the waves. There was
another squeal. It sounded like something made by an
animal.
Maybe a dolphin, she thought. Not that I know what
a dolphin sounds like. Maybe a dog. So, brain, just
sticking with ‘d’ animals?
She giggled at her own joke. She stopped when the
sound cut through the darkness again.
Whatever was making the sound was definitely in the
water and almost directly in front of her. She squinted.
She could make out something on the water’s edge, a
pale shape with black water lapping over it.
Marsha stood up. Although she couldn’t be sure, it
looked like a person.

Marsha lay on the beach. She felt the cold sand against
the back of her neck. The waves were invisible, except
for a sliver of white in the darkness. Their lulling crash Kind of late for a swim, she thought. Maybe someone
made her drowsy. She was exhausted, having spent the needs help?
day swimming and drinking with her friends, the sun
She cautiously made her way down the beach. Alpounding down on her.
though she wanted to help, she didn’t want to startle
what might be a wounded animal. She hesitated.
The day had been the first good one in a long time.
Life had been piling on one disappointment after
another. Her job: downsized, outsourced, reclassified
into oblivion. Her boyfriend of five years: sleeping
with another woman, begging for forgiveness, doing
it again. Her mother: divorced, alone, alcoholic. Her
father: gone, run off with his 20-something secretary, a
cliché. All a cliché, she thought, my whole stupid life.
She just wanted to be in the moment, on the beach,
letting the sound of the surf and the slight chill in the
salty air lull her to the edge of sleep. She floated in
the weightless place between wakefulness and unconsciousness. The sound of the ocean became air gliding
past her as she drifted among black clouds, the world
below lost in darkness. She felt that she was far above
the ground, the tethers of waking life cut, rising into

PAGE 22

Maybe I should get the guys. Maybe I should just get
the heck out of here. I don’t want to get mauled by a...
a... sea lion.
The pale shape moved. It made a sound, but not the
grating squeal of earlier. This was a deep moan, one
that vibrated through Marsha’s body and made the hair
stand up on the nape of her neck. It wasn’t exactly a
bad feeling; but it was odd. It made her feel a little
excited, a little queasy, an instinctual response to the
unknown.
Just a little closer, she thought.
She was now only a few yards away. The form lifted
up. A head raised up from the sand, face down. An arm