Osprey - 8-3-2015 at 02:28 PM
It happened right here, on the beach at East Cape, Baja California. It came without warning, lasted less than a second and changed everything about my
life. I think about it more times every day and night than I wish to recount.
It was overcast and a little windy – an odd combination at the shore because usually the cloud cover holds the wind down and the sea grows flat and
gray and welcomes fishermen like me. I was on my regular morning walk-swim. My sometimes exercise companions didn’t show so after waiting for a few
minutes I walked east, alone.
On Google Earth I learned that it’s about a mile from the access road on the beach to the first house in a small but fancy beachside development
called Playa Colorado. Usually when I reach the first big beach mansion I sit down for a few minutes to let my heart rate go back down a notch, then
begin to swim and or walk back to the car.
This particular morning I plopped down on the soft dry sand and simply enjoyed the quiet, the scenery for a minute before my workout on the way back.
To my left just about a meter, stuck somehow in the sand were two or three empty milk cartons which were tied in a cluster and partially covered with
wind-blown sand. Just as my gaze fell on them I heard, from below, a cry.
To this day I cannot tell you if the noise was made by a human, a child, an animal but it pushed its way up and out of the sandy grave to deliver an
unmistakable message – help, please help. It was not words, it was a howl, a scream, a final plea from someone, something fighting for life and
losing.
I jumped to my feet and ran all the way back to the car. I don’t remember running, the beach, anything, just the sound, the terrible urgency of the
scream, perhaps the last sound. I didn’t know it right then but my awful need to get away, to put distance between me and the horror of what could lie
beneath the small foredune would not diminish – it would grow to all-consuming importance.
From the very moment I heard the sound I was filled with self doubt and shame at my fear. I was overwhelmed with the conflict of wanting to help but
unable to quash my fear of dealing with what I might find if my frantic digging could find the thing that made the sound. An almost silent film now
loops through my mind examining all the gory possibilities and outcomes had I stayed, had I the courage to try to save what screamed from such a
horrible end.
Ashamed, still fearful, I know I can’t tell the police, can’t tell anyone, ever. And I can’t ever go back to that place. I’ll walk here in the village
– no more trips down that way, safer in the village. How long will this thing stay with me, how long will I have to carry the awful memory around, be
haunted by my own shame?
My questions were answered, my torment ended by something quick and simple. A voice, a single soft voice from the kitchen.
“Hon, coffee’s ready. You might as well get up – you’re sweating up your bed and making some awful sounds. Must be another nightmare.”
I got dressed, got my coffee and grudgingly looked at the clock. No reason to get up this early. I’m not going to the beach, not today. Maybe I’ll
walk down by the mercantile, then up my usual way, back down Calle Del Mar. No, no, wait a minute. That takes me right by the pantheon.
DanO - 8-3-2015 at 02:38 PM
Nice, George. Sort of an Edgar Allen Poe/Hunter S. Thompson mash-up.
Meany - 8-3-2015 at 02:39 PM
????? an Wow!!! Do you IOU the IRS????
o3dave - 8-3-2015 at 02:41 PM
I too have seen the talking turtles. Obviously, you upset one.
MMc - 8-3-2015 at 03:23 PM
Osprey, I love your fiction, It just sucks me in.
Udo - 8-3-2015 at 03:31 PM
An I thought that the whole story was real and you went back to the car to get a shovel!
WOW!
pauldavidmena - 8-3-2015 at 03:56 PM
I've read about those sand crabs on the East Cape. Your encounter with one of them confirms my darkest nightmares. 
Well done!
ehall - 8-3-2015 at 08:26 PM
Nice
bajabuddha - 8-3-2015 at 10:04 PM
Sounds like bad-laced skunk-mota.... either Osprey's bad dream, or o3d's waking one (wow, incredible documentary!). *cough* 
Osprey - 8-3-2015 at 10:41 PM
Boo Dah, sometimes I feel the love between us is just slipping away.
AKgringo - 8-3-2015 at 10:58 PM
I knew I should have dug that hole down low while the tide was out!
Good tale!
WHOA!!
fixtrauma - 8-4-2015 at 10:53 AM
Well done! I was all in! I was going to suggest some Ambien to help sleep but Ambien usually causes dreams like this!
Whale-ista - 8-4-2015 at 11:59 AM
thanks Osprey- a clever telling of a classic anxiety dream: fear/terror, helplessness, flight...
Dream research suggests these images are the mind's way of solving some problem/threat we confronted in our waking lives and were not able to resolve.
We may believe we have "moved on," while in fact, our subconscious is working diligently on a solution as the body sleeps.
The actual event is transformed- the results are often vivid and memorable dreams of buried, faceless, unknown terrors rising unexpectedly to confront
us- just when we believed we could rest.
Well done...
[Edited on 8-4-2015 by Whale-ista]
bajabuddha - 8-4-2015 at 12:05 PM
Entiendo todo broma, Señor. Wonderful story.
http://www.dreammoods.com/dreamdictionary/
Osprey - 8-4-2015 at 03:13 PM
Thanks BB
4Cata - 8-5-2015 at 10:41 PM
Another pearl for my collection, but a dark one. Thanks
Skipjack Joe - 8-6-2015 at 04:56 AM
One of your more introspective pieces. I had a dream once similar in intensity and fear, a dream I still recall today. It was a time when I was
gravely ill.