Story: In the Sand

Blood in the sand. Get help fast.

The text hit me like a juggernaut. I hurdled through the beach house, slid down the stairs and made it to Sam in no time flat. I didn't expect to see such a sight; her face a stained glass window lying lifeless on the broken shells, panicked eyes crying out in pain.

"What happened?" I asked Mike.

Sam's sapphire eyes were a sea of mass confusion and as I straddled myself over her to examine them, I thought I must look like a dog sniffing the sand; not an overprotective mother doting on her injured teenager. Who cared anyway? I was entitled.

"We were running and having fun when Sam tripped in this pile of shells."

The brouhaha had attracted a flurry of beachcombers who oohed and aahed at the scene before them. An elderly man with sun spots on his balding head stooped down beside us and began examining the fragmented shells. Within minutes he was shouting for us to leave.

"Hurry! Evacuate this area. There's been an invasion."

I followed the man's gaze to the rough peppered sand. It was transforming into smooth sand colored in shades of fluorescent greens and blues. Foam was seeping out like suds from a washing machine and covering our feet with a warm gooey blob.

Before I could open my mouth, Mike had scooped up Sam. But then he just stood there frozen and looking quite amiss.

"Hurry! Get Sam to the cabin. Take care of her until I get there."

Mike didn't budge. Did he not hear me? I repeated myself and still no response. So I went over to him and poked him on the cheek.

"Hello? Anyone in there?" I said in his ear. Nothing happened. I looked at Sam. She, too, had the glassy glaze in her eyes and was as still as a mannequin. That's when it hit me.

Sam and Mike had been at the beach for hours. Could this foamy mess that was oozing out from beneath the sand have somehow set them under a Medusa-like spell? I shook them, slapped their cheeks, blew in their eyes and pinched their skin but nothing roused them.

I turned to the elderly man who had stayed behind. "Please call for help. I can't leave them here alone."

"I've already tried. For some reason my cell isn't getting any reception. I'll go to my cabin and see if the phone works from there. If I have to, I'll drive to the police station."

After I waved goodbye, I looked down at the foam that was spreading faster than oil. It was changing into an indigo blue and purple. My eyes immediately started to burn as the distorted image's hypnotizing movement swirled around the sand.

A small white spot suddenly appeared amid the gooey blob. I crouched down to take a closer look and was horrified to discover it was a face. After popping up like a Jack-in-the-box, I placed my foot on top of the 'thing' and started twisting it as if putting out a cigarette.

Somewhere in between I heard a scream that I'm pretty sure came from my mouth. I was too frantic to pay attention. Then I removed my foot to see if my handiwork had gotten rid of the face, but it looked me in the eyes and started laughing hysterically.

The laughing grew louder and faster. I stared at the white face in the sand for only a second before I stepped back and tried to escape; but faster than a knee-jerk reaction, it grabbed my ankle and pulled me in.

Suddenly I was Alice swirling down the rabbit hole, the colors cerulean, chartreuse, emerald and sapphire spinning scenes throughout my mind. A farm, mountains and coast in the city, country and woods like a kaleidoscope changing faster, brighter, sharper until thud; I had reached the end.

I was lying on a hard surface convulsing, my body aching from head to toe. I felt cold and clammy as if I had just had a low blood sugar attack. My mouth was drier than a hayfield. I dared not open my eyes. If this was death, I didn't want to know what it looked like; but I sure knew what it felt like.

"Mom? Wake up," I heard Sam's voice calling out from the distance.

I slowly opened my eyes. "Sam?"

"Oh, thank God. What are you doing on the floor? Mike and I came in and found you screaming."

Sam was kneeling over me like an overprotective daughter, which in and of itself was a no-no by teenager standards. Mike was standing behind her and staring at me as if I had cooties or something. I sat up and looked around. The wicker furniture on the beach house porch was all in tact. The sun was shining through the window, a cooling breeze of salty air streaming across my face.

Could this all have been a dream?