On Writing and...On The Beach Man

When I started writing The Beach Man, I had in mind to write a short story of 100 Words. I’d seen the 100 Word Stories Series in Uzoma’s Blog. I liked it, wanted to do something like that, and so I started with the first sentence that jumped in my head: The killer doesn't lift his eyes off me as he grabs the dagger on the table. And this first sentence began a horror/suspense series that would span 13 weekly episodes. The Beach Man was a fun, and sometimes difficult story to write, but the comments the wonderful readers always dropped kept on pushing me to finish the project.

I’ve always been scared about sharing my work for people to see. Waiting for Dami’s Whistle was the first story I ever shared on this blog, and somehow I love that it didn’t get any comments. That story needs some fixing, but then I’ve decided to leave it as it is. I want to have something I can look back on someday and say, “Oh, this was when I was an amateur writer.” No, I’m not saying I’ve become a professional. English isn’t even my native language, but I keep striving every day to see that I get better in my writing and in my life as a whole.

And then it makes me happy to know I have friends who’ve encouraged me in one way or the other to better my writing.

So, I want to say thanks again to everyone who followed The Beach Man: Robyn, Athina, Uzoma, the honorable Doc. Christopher, Omolara, Jennifer, Ezike Nwadiuto, Neso, E-face, Felix, Florentine, Bella, Chinyere. To Saka, for providing the picture of the beach man—the one you see in the cover.

I might have missed some people but I appreciate everyone who has ever stopped by this blog. By visiting this place, you’ve all being an encouragement to me. So a big “THANK YOU” to you! :)

Ps: I want to use this medium to request for critiques on The Beach Man if you have some time to spare. Robyn and Uzoma have suggested that I turn it into an e-book, so I’d love to brush it up. I’ll appreciate any and all comments. Thank you!

The 400-Word Story: The Beach Man #12

Ifeoma

A cold wind blows against me as the killer closes the gap between us. Staring at his new borrowed body, I steady myself, careful not to reveal any trace of the entrapment chalk underneath my bare feet.

“Look who’s here.” He grins, brushing my cheek with the back of his palms. “My sweet Ifeoma.”

“These people wronged you and…” I swallow hard. “They also wronged me, but please stop the killing.”

He shakes his head. “You should try it.”

“What?”

“I mean, try piercing a dagger through someone. Watch their lifeblood seep away.” He smiles. “And then that fearful look in their eyes…oh, it gives me this feeling of pure ecstasy. You really should try it.”

“I’m tired of…I’m just…” I break into a sob.

He puts his arms around me, patting my back gently. I lean against his chest, and an overwhelming feeling of familiarity settles upon me—there used to be a time when he’d return from hunting, and I’d prepare his kill for dinner. He cared so much for me then, even resisted pressures from his family to marry a new wife because I couldn’t bear him a child. He was a good husband.

Now he's…a killer.

A demon!

Suddenly I remember. Under my feet. Chalk.

Holding him closer, I slide my left foot around him in a curving motion, making sure it doesn’t lift from the sand. I do the same with my right foot, until it connects with the arc from the left.

The killer looks at me, sober expression in his eyes. “I missed holding you like this.”

I swing a punch at his jaw and jump backwards.

He tries moving towards me but stops in mid-action. He looks down, sees the chalk circling him. Then he looks at me, his eyes wide with fear.

I smile. “Tricked you fool.”

Just then Shola emerges from the cluster of coconut trees in the right, clutching a small basket. “I thought I’d totally lost you to the past.”

“Let me do the rites.”

She hands the basket to me. I look inside: a bowl of salt, another bowl of dried, sliced garlic, and a box of matches.

Salt ejects a demon from its host body. Smoke from burning garlic weakens the demon and banishes it from Earth forever.

The killer begins to tremble as I walk towards him; he knows I’ve done this so many times.


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

Thanks for reading! And stay tuned for the thirteenth episode next Monday.