Monday, June 17, 2013

The 400-Word Story: The Beach Man #8






















Ifeoma

I catch a glimpse of the stone before it trips me. And pain explodes in my cheeks as I hit the ground. Mildly dazed, I pull myself up and continue towards the beach, gasping for air, ignoring the people calling after me.

I cannot let my parents die.

I am near the sands when I feel my body working against me – my heart pounds fiercely, my whole mouth is dried out, and my ankles scream with pain. With the last of my strength, I push forward, but slowly. Finally, I hear the sound of water splashing against rocks.

In the moonlight, the beach looks deserted, and the cold wind blowing with eerie sounds sends a shiver down my spine. Hugging myself, I scan the area with itchy eyes. My heart almost drops when I see the killer a few yards away, ambling towards me with a smile.

He opens his arms for a hug when he reaches me. “Hallo, sweetheart.”

“My parents,” I say under my breath.

“You’re a minute and twenty-three seconds early, so don’t worry. They’re fine.”

“I need proof.”

“Okay, my dear.” He reaches into his pocket, takes out a cell phone, and passes it to me.

I dial my brother’s number at once. “Uchenna, how are papa and mama?” I say when he takes my call.

“They’re fine now. A fireman pulled them out.” His voice drops. “But, sista…”

“What?”

“Our house is gone. Everything.”

I want to say something to cheer Uchenna up, but the killer snatches the phone and ends the call. Staring at him, I notice that his scars are gone.

“Wondering about my scars?” He closes the gap between us, his eyes peering deep into mine. “I didn’t want to scare you since we were meeting each other for the first time in reality, so I borrowed someone else’s body. Do you like my new look?”

I take few steps back, eyeing him warily. “Why do want me here?’

“For this.” He opens his palms and a small gourd materializes upon it. “The remnant of your wonderful potion. Just drink it and become like me. Now is the perfect time to avenge your death.”

“No, she won’t drink it! Not tonight. Not ever!”

I turn towards the voice on my right.

The spiritualist stands there, clutching a small knife in one hand. In the other hand, she holds a small, rounded mirror.


Footnote: This is the eight episode of The Beach Man, a 400-Word Blog Series.
Click HERE for the next episode.

Thanks for reading!

20 comments:

  1. Oh my goodness! Don't stop there! I was leaning into the computer reading this. Questions, Kaykay. I have questions. Great installment! Have a great week.

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    1. Haha! :) It feels good to know you were leaning into the computer to get more of the story. As for the questions, I'll try and answer them...or maybe I'd let one of the characters do that.

      Thanks for reading, Robyn. I'm glad you enjoyed this. Do have a wonderful week too. :)

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  2. too much trailer... thanks for sharing though! must add it!

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  3. dats lovely swedie

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  4. This guy...

    YOu this guy! Winch!

    Well done!

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    1. Hahaha! :) I'm still learning to become a winch.

      Thanks for reading, Seun. :)

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  5. Well done. You manage every time to build tension and pull us into the story.
    She was holding a mirror. Hmmm... I smell that she's going to prove to him that Ifeoma isn't his wife? Or is she going to show him that spiritualist is?:)
    I look forward for the next one.

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    1. Thanks a lot, Athina. I don't even know where the story is going. When I sit down to write the next episode I would. Maybe then your questions would be answered. I'm glad you liked this.

      Thanks for reading, and do have a great week! :)

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  6. Ha! KayKay, the tension is getting stronger and stronger! Placing this spiritualist in the scene conjures two challenging possibilities in my head, but then am no the writer. I can't wait to read how this story pans out.


    Nwanne m, idiegwu!

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    1. Thanks, Uzoma. I don't know how the spiritualist managed to get there. LOL! :) I also hope to see what happens next when I sit to write the next episode.

      Thanks a lot for reading, Nwanne m.

      Idikwa egwu! :)

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  7. Dude,u go kill us wit suspense,wer d spiritualist cum emanate from...dude I can't wait 4 d nxt episode...dude ure good...thumbs up...E'FACE.

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  8. E di ok nwanne

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    1. Thanks for reading, Eface. I'm glad you're following, as well as enjoying the series.

      Have a great week! :)

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  9. Hey Kaykay, I was just wondering what inspired you to write this story. Is it at all based on local legends or folklore?

    There is a part in a book I wrote that is based on local folklore I heard about in Kauai (one of the Hawaiian islands). I just blogged about it: http://alexstefansson.blogspot.com/2013/06/white-lady-vs-jesus.html

    As I was writing my blog post, I kept thinking about your series and wondering about Nigerian folklore (which I know absolutely nothing about).

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    1. I was inspired by the 100-word story on Uzoma's writing blog. I wanted to write a 100-word story too, but I couldn’t stop myself from writing more after I surpassed the 100-word-count. When I picked my pen, the first sentence that came into my head was "The killer doesn't lift his eyes off me as he grabs the dagger on the table." So, I continued from there. I didn't think of local legends or folklore when writing it.

      With over 500 ethnic groups, I'd say Nigeria has a lot of myths, Legends and folklore. I just know the popular ones, like gods, people's origin, etc. Though, I hope to do some research on spiritualism.

      Thanks for reading.

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  10. You are inspiring me, Kay.

    Nice.
    I think o am starting to expect a lot from you. Step up your game. You are doing well.

    A lil typo -how ARE papa and mama... not IS.
    By roundish mirror, you meant circular or spherical. A globular one would be more mystical. #justsayin.

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    1. Wow! Am I? Feels good to hear that. You know your poetry inspires me more. I'm glad you're following the story. And thanks for your suggestions. I appreciate it.

      Thanks for dropping by, Doc! :)

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  11. Now that's something, eh? Glad you are inspired.
    Warmly welcome Kay.

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