A Day at the Beach (Part 2)

I'm not good at serialisation but I had to return to Susan and Barney and their day at the beach which was a story I wrote back on January 16th. I didn't like leaving Susan like I did, nor Barney, in their plight and so, I've returned to expand on it. The first part is here:

***

Susan shook. With anger. Shook with the adrenalin coursing through her via her poor heart, driving blood round her body to cope with a run the likes of which she had not done in twenty years.

And shook with fear. Those black eyes. What were these creatures?

Barney whimpered. She had to hold it together. She couldn't let him see she was scared. She couldn't let him see that she was powerless. She had to save him somehow. But how?

"It's okay, Barney," she said, looking at her son. He was so scared, trembling, gripped in place by the skeletal vice of a monster's hand.

She repeated, "Give me my son," her voice level and low, a growl from her throat.

The other creature lifted a hand and she thought, this is it. Where I die in front of my son on a beach. I can do nothing. It's going to blast me from the ground.

It hissed at her.

Susan wanted to shrink from it but again, stood, every fibre of her being taut, hairs proud on her skin.

But they couldn't have this stand off for ever. She was going to have to do something and hope that her and Barney survived. Her sandy-haired little boy was still looking at her pleadingly but there was strength there, she could see it, drawn from her, the fact that she was standing her ground, facing the beast off, stupid though it may be.

It was hope.

Her heart swelled and that's when the creature launched itself at her.

She was unprepared, having envisioned that she would be pulped by some sort of death ray. Or launched into the air and shattered on the ground. Or hypnotised by its dead, dead eyes.

She had nothing. No weapon but she fought. She could hear Barney's cries in the background and a defiant "Mum! Get off my mum!' and then silence as his cries were stifled and she was fighting and clawing and punching and screeching.

Rank breath. A tongue. Thin. Ulcerated. Reaching for her. Seeking.

"Fuck off!" she found herself shouting, thrashing like electricity was being injected into her.

And then it was above her.

And being thrown.

***

366 words

Another cliffhanger. I'll come back to this again.

Promise.

If you would like to read other stories that I have written this year as well as all sorts of other stuff including poems and reviews, check out my profile page. But this link will take you to other microfiction that I have written this year in the Write a Story Every Day in 2024 challenge:

A Week 6 summary will be out later today.

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