Spooky Stories

2006-10-23T07:55:00.000-07:00

Paperback Writer's E-book Challenge is to write a short story, novella or novel and to provide free access to it on the web. This is my contribution. I hope you enjoy Little Girl on the Beach.

Little Girl on the Beach
Tracy Sharp

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

2006-10-22T14:42:00.000-07:00

Little Girl on the Beach
Chapter 3

“My wife is missing! You have to help me, please!” Derek pleaded with the cop.

The cop’s face was unconcerned. “Calm down, Sir. How long has she been missing?”

“I don’t know. An hour, maybe.” Impatience and frustration sent Derek's nerves jangling, and he wanted to jump over the counter and throttle the cop. “We’re wasting time! Please, just help me find her!”

“Sir, an hour isn’t very long. How do you know she didn’t just go for a walk? Or maybe she took off and doesn’t want to be found. Did you have a fight?”

“No! And she didn’t just take off! We’re celebrating her birthday. We just checked in to the Lakeside Bed and Breakfast. Something strange is going on. There’s nobody there right now. The house is dark. There’s water all over the floor.”

The cop stared at Derek. “You checked into Keegan's Lakeside, did you?”

“Yes! What is wrong with you? Are you deaf?”

“Sir, there’s nothing wrong with me. But there’s definitely something wrong with you if you think you checked in to that bed and breakfast. That place has been closed for a decade. It’s dilapidated and it's been condemned. It’s scheduled to be torn down in a month.”

Derek gaped at the cop. “What?”

“Sir, nobody has been at that place in ten years. Not since the little Keegan girl drowned. The mother was so grief stricken, she just took off. Nobody knows where. The father, he walked into the lake a week later. Never came out.”

“No. We checked in. We took a nap in one of the rooms. I have a key.” Derek fished in his jean pocket but found nothing.

“I’m sure you do, Sir. Look. Give it twenty-four hours, if your wife still hasn’t shown up come and see us again. Okay?”

Derek backed out of the police station, catching a glimpse of himself in the window as he left. Sweat beaded his forehead, dribbling into eyes made wild by panic. He looked like a lunatic.

The cop’s words rang in his ears as he drove back to the bed and breakfast. Nobody has been at that place in ten years. Not since the little Keegan girl drowned. As he pulled up to the old house his breath caught in his throat. He climbed out of the car and stood in front of it, his mouth hanging open.

A large, fat moon hung low in the sky now, and he could see the place fairly well under it's silvery light. The roof had mostly caved in. The bright white wooden siding had turned to grey, much of it broken and jutting out. He walked slowly around the place shaking his head. Every window was broken. "No," he whispered. "No."

He ran down to the beach still clutching Laura’s sweater and fell on his knees. “LAURA!” He screamed out at the water. Pressing her sweater to his face, he sobbed.

“Yes,” A soft voice said. The sound was like wind moving through dead leaves.

He looked up and saw Laura standing next to him. Her dark hair flying wildly behind her. She wore no clothes, and when he stood she touched his face, chilling his entire body.

“It’s so beautiful. So peaceful.” She spoke but her lips didn’t move.

“Laura?”

“Shhhh. Everything is fine now. Come with me, sweetheart.” Her eyes shone under a star-speckled sky.

"Laura," he cried, spreading his arms. "I thought you were. . . I thought. . ."

"Shhhh." She stepped into his arms and kissed him, her lips cold, and when her icy tongue touched his he could taste the lake.

And things long since dead.

Author Bio: Tracy Sharp grew up in a small mining town where there wasn’t much to do but watch the trains go by. She spent much of her youth writing stories featuring kick-ass heroines, sexy heroes, and murder. She still writes stories featuring kick-ass heroines and sexy heroes, but her stories are much steamier. Oh, and somebody still always ends up dead. A story just isn’t any fun without at least one dead body in it! Tracy won the Gold Star Award from Just Erotic Romance Reviews for Repo Chick Blues, the first book in the Leah Ryan series. Her stories have appeared in Spinetingler Magazine. You can find more information about Tracy at her website.

2006-10-22T14:39:00.000-07:00

Little Girl on the Beach
Chapter 2

Afterwards, Derek fell into a fast and deep slumber, but Laura was too excited about the weekend to sleep. She quietly got out of bed and found her clothes on the floor where they had been tossed earlier. Feeling cold, she pulled a thick sweater over her top and closed the door softly behind her.

There was nobody at the desk when she passed through the living room, headeding toward the front door. Strange. She figured there would always be somebody around in a place like this. But then a bell sat on the countertop, and the place probably wasn’t very busy this time of year.

She looked down at the floor and frowned. Little puddles of water led from the counter, across the entryway, and out the door. Odd. It must’ve rained while she and Derek were napping, and somebody must’ve sloshed it in. She hoped somebody mopped up the water before it ruined the gorgeous hardwood floor.

Laura breathed in the crisp, fresh autumn air and ignored her growling stomach. She glanced at her watch. Six o’clock. She’d wake Derek up in an hour. They would go out and find one of the small country restaurants they had passed on the way over. She stood on the porch looking out at the rippling water. Daylight was quickly fading, but the water seemed to shimmer even in the gathering dusk. A few seagulls made slow circles over the water, looking for their own dinner.

A flash of bright red broke the surface of the water. Laura squinted. A little arm waved and a child’s head bobbed out of the water, her tiny cries carrying over the waves. Laura recognized the little girl in the red jacket from earlier. Her beach ball floated just a few feet from where she was splashing around. Suddenly she went under, but came back up again, screaming.

“Oh God!” Laura almost fell down the stairs running toward the beach. “Hang on, baby! Hang on!”

* * *

When Derek opened his eyes, he knew instinctively that Laura wasn’t beside him. He moved his hand over the empty space next to him. The room was cold and dark. He peered at the clock on the bedside table. Seven p.m. Laura must’ve gone down to look around the house. He shivered as he pulled the covers off himself and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Why was it so damned cold in this place? He was sure it was colder inside the house than it was outside. Unless the temperature outside had dropped drastically over the last couple of hours.

He listened for sounds in the house, normal sounds people would make moving around in it, but heard nothing except waves breaking on the beach. He clicked on the lamp and found his clothes. As he climbed into them, he wondered if Laura were sitting on the porch, maybe with her hands wrapped around a big mug of hot chocolate. He peered out a window overlooking the porch, but couldn’t see Laura. Just the sand and water, everything turning indigo in the approaching night. He left the room and made his way downstairs.

Strangely, the entire house was dark and sounded eerily empty. Derek wondered where the owners were. Where the other guests were, if there were any others. He slipped and his feet went out from under him, but he grabbed the counter top, breaking his fall. The seat of his jeans were soaked. His sneakers were soaked. He felt around, his hands sinking into an inch of water. There was water all over the floor.

"What the hell?" He sloshed through it and headed out the door, deciding that he and Laura were definitely getting out of there. Something was not right with the place.

Derek squinted into the night looking for Laura. There were no lights on the porch. “Laura? You out here?”

Only the sound of the waves and mournful cries of seagulls answered him.

“Laura?”

Still nothing. He went down the stairs and walked down the hill to the beach. Moonlight spilled over the lake and sand, and he saw nothing else. He looked up to where the car sat in the driveway. Laura hadn’t taken it.

As he looked out at the water a sense of dread crept over him. The tiny hairs at the back of his neck lifted. Where was she? She couldn't have vanished into thin air. He looked out at the shimmering black water and shivered. She couldn't have drowned. It was too cold to go swimming. There was no way she’d have gone swimming.

“Laura!” He called out. “Laura!”

A cloud passed over the moon and everything dimmed for a moment, then became brighter. Something white lying on the beach caught his eye. He ran over to it. Laura’s white cable knit sweater lay on the sand. He’d bought it for her in Ireland the summer before.

Derek's heart drilled against his ribcage. Something was wrong. Something had happened to Laura while he was sleeping. Maybe somebody had grabbed her and dragged her into the woods or forced her into a vehicle. He scanned the dark silhouettes of trees around him.

It was pointless. He couldn’t see a thing. Derek ran up the hill and jumped into the car. He’d seen a small police station a few miles down the road. Something had happened to his wife, and somebody had to help him find her.

Flooring the gas, he took off down the road, shoving away all the dark thoughts, the possible scenarios, of what might’ve happened to Laura.

2006-10-22T13:01:00.000-07:00

Little Girl on the Beach
By Tracy Sharp

Laura and Derek found the Bed and Breakfast by chance. It was October 31, Laura’s birthday, and she loved to take long drives. The young couple had no plans. They were simply driving around to see where they would end up, and after two hours they had ended up at the Keegan's Lakeside Bed and Breakfast.

“Wow,” Laura said as the dirt road ended and they came upon the stunning old house. She looked at him, her soft brown eyes excited. “It’s beautiful. Let’s see if they have any vacancies.”

Derek stopped the car. “All right. You’re the birthday girl. Let’s check it out.”

The wind sailed through the branches, tearing leaves from them and sending bright red and yellow swirling to the ground. Derek slid an arm around Laura’s waist. “This place is amazing.”

“Lovely,” Laura said. “I love bed and breakfasts. Much better than some generic hotel.”

“Keegan's Lakeside. I’ve never heard of it. Have you?”

“No, but that’s what makes this place so charming. It’s a hidden gem.” Laura looked up at him and smiled.

A giggle rang out near the water, and they turned to see a tiny blonde girl in a bright red jacket standing on the sand, tossing a large beach ball into the air and catching it. Every time the ball came down, it hit her round little face, sending another string of giggles into the air.

Laura’s smile fell away as a sharp pang went through her chest. She would’ve loved to have had a little girl some day. But it wouldn’t be possible now. Not since the operation.

Derek drew her close and kissed the top of her head. “I love you, you know.”

She rested her head against his shoulder. “I love you, you know.”

“Good, then let’s get in there and start our weekend get-away properly.” He led her through the door into the warm house. The place smelled like cinnamon and ginger, as if somebody were baking cookies.

The man at the counter was maybe thirty years old, with bright smile and an intense gaze. "Micheal Keegan. Welcome."

"Thanks," Laura said, grinning, clearly enamoured with the place.

Derek wasn't all that taken with it. He couldn't put his finger on it but something about the place set him on edge. Maybe it was the innkeeper who put him off. Though he couldn't understand why he would. The guy seemed nice enough.

The innkeeper wore a comfortable looking plaid shirt and jeans, and had an easy way about him. Still, something about him gave Derek the willies. He tried not to shiver when man's ice cold fingers brushed against his as he handed Derek the key to their room. "Upstairs, last door on the left. Breakfast is at eight o’clock." His voice sounded far away, dream-like.

Derek tried not to snatch his hand back as he took the key. “Thanks.” Smoke another one, buddy.

He glanced at Laura, who didn't seem the least bit put off by the man. But her gaze drifted to the window, through which she could see the little girl playing on the beach, now running across the sand after the beach ball.

Their room was large but sparsely furnished with antique pieces. A wooden chair sat in the corner of the room, and an antique chest of drawers with a mirror sat against the opposite wall. The chest of drawers looked to be custom made, the craftsmanship of high caliber. Clearly it had been made by hands that loved wood.

But what seemed to impress Laura the most was the old brass bed. She plopped down on it and stretched out. “Wow. I could get used to a place like this. Think we could own a house as nice as this some day?”

Derek dropped onto the bed beside her. “Absolutely. When you finish law school and make us a ton of cash, and I sell my book, which becomes a bestseller, and famous directors are falling over themselves for the movie rights.”

“Cool. Sounds like a plan.” Laura bit her lip, watching the ceiling for a moment.

Derek brushed a lock of hair from her eyes, knowing what she was thinking. There would be no babies. Ovarian tumors had taken care of that. He watched as she swallowed down the lump in her throat. "Everything will work out, love. You'll see."

Laura offered a sad smile. "I know." She suddenly pushed Derek onto his back, climbing on top of him and straddling him. Her long dark hair fell around his face. “But for right now, I think we should live in the moment.”

Derek grinned. “Now that sounds like a plan.”