The Pier

Max felt the warm, humid summer air in the open windows as he cruised along in his old pickup, and Sweet Home, Alabama played over the radio. He was driving on a narrow two-lane county road deep in the Arkansas Ozarks to a fishing spot his cousin Earl had told him of. Trees rushed by, hugging the road tightly, as the amber lighting bugs flashed slowly in the still summer air. The waxing moon, now at three quarters hung high in the sky.

Suddenly, a brown flash passed in his headlights, breaking him from his gaze on the moon. He slammed on his brakes, gravel pelting his undercarriage, as a white tail disappeared into the brush. “I might need some new britches after that,” he told himself shakily.

Another couple miles down the road, and he slowed his truck as he pulled into a small paved lot on the left. He parked along the edge in front of a chain separating the lot from the woods and got out. As Max pulled his gear from his truck bed, a movement caught his eye. The chain was a single metal chain on a series of poles. The chain section next to the truck was swaying. He set his gear down and walked over to inspect it. The air was still, and all the other sections of chain were stock still. Curious, he passed a hand around it. Nothing seemed to be attached. His truck was about a foot to the right of this section, so he couldn't have hit it.

“Well, I'll be damned,” he said, scratching his head. He picked his gear up and started heading toward the pier. Max liked going catfishing at night. He liked the stars, and the solitude. Suddenly, a bright flash streaked past him on the ground lighting fast and disappeared underneath his truck. “What the...?” He shook his head. “I must be seein' things.”

The pier was down a dirt path in the dark woods and stretched out forty feet from the bank.

It rocked in the water as he walked down, his boot heels clicking on the wood. At the end of the pier, he set up his chair, popped a beer, and baited his hook with a good chunk of liver. He gave her a good cast and set the pole down, attaching a bell at the end as he started gazing into the clear night sky.

After about five minutes of gazing, not thinking of anything, really, he was startled as a small rock splashed into the water in front of him. The ripples caught the moonlight as the expanded over the smooth lake. A second rock plinked off the wood to his right and splashed in the water. A cold shock raced down his spine as he spun in his chair, almost falling out. He stared down the pier and turned his flashlight on. There was nothing but the trees and brush. From beyond the beam came a third rock. It hit the pier a foot away from him and plopped into the water.

“Who the hell is out there?” Max shouted, sounding somehow like his knees weren't suddenly Jell-O. Nothing. He strained to listen. He heard nothing. No answer, no tree frogs, no crickets. There weren't even any lighting bugs. Just a wall of trees and scrub. He looked for several minutes more, but there wasn't anything to see. Then the bell rang on his pole.

His heart jumped into his chest the way it always did when he got a bite, and the rocks were at once forgotten. Max gave the pole a practiced tug to set the hook and started in on the reel. It was a good size one. He got the net ready as the cat splashed next to the pier. The fish was almost had it netted when a sound behind him made him freeze.

Creak.

The fish gave a final splash as it got off the hook and disappeared.

Creak.

Max felt the pier moving underneath him. He spun around, the pole splashing in the water behind him. He stared at the silver lighted bank behind him but saw nothing.

Creaaaak.

The pier moved again.

“Hello?” he said, this time rather weakly. Waves radiated out from the pier as it moved, and then he could hear a click, click, click, of boots on the dock. But he couldn't see anything. Frantic, he scrambled for his flashlight, just for it to betray him and fall into the water.

Click, click, click.

The pier was now moving wildly, the water splashed underneath. Eyes wide, he looked for someone, anyone. This made no sense. What the hell was happening. The steps stopped in front of him. Shaking, he stood there, waiting. There was no sound, no movement, not a breath of air. After a few moments, he began to relax, and he let the breath out he had been holding. Time to get the hell out of here. Then, two hands shoved his chest and he toppled backwards over the rail. He was unable to move as he hit the water. He tried to swim, but his arms wouldn't work. He looked up desperately at the moon, now rippled through the water. A dark face looked down at him from the pier as he sank down into the veil.