Scary ghost stories and stuff (1)

First catch of the day

Rick walked along the beach barefoot. His fishing pole and creel were on the pier which now waited about 200 feet behind him. His morning ritual had begun.

Rick had bought this beachfront property five years ago, and it was his favorite place in the world. The fishing off of the pier just a half mile down the beach from his back door was like nothing he'd ever seen in his life. He was always out here at 4am, seeking the first catch of the day.

He would start fishing at 5am, but the hour before that would be spent doing the first part of his morning ritual; walking the beach, collecting seashells. He would stuff his pockets, and upon returning home (usually with a creel full of fish) he would clean the shells and deposit them into a large clear vase. The vase and the shells were beautiful.

Rick's pockets were full, and 5am was approaching. It was time to turn around and head for the pier so that the morning's true work could commence. He turned back towards home, and noticed something sticking out of the sand.

Rick investigated, and saw that it was the edge of a shell. He dug around it a bit, and stood in wonder. What he saw of it looked like a scallop shell, but if it was it was the biggest shell of its type that he'd ever seen. He continued to dig, and hoped he would find the thing completely intact. Had he realized it, he would've been amazed at the fact that his mind was a far from fishing as it could possibly be.

What he had cleared from the top was now a foot and a half wide, and he had dug down about nine inches. He was mesmerized about what he might have here, and humorously thought to himself that he was going to need a bigger vase.

He was about a foot down into the sand when his hand exploded in pain. He looked into the hole, and saw blood beginning to pool, coming to fast to be immediately absorbed into the sand. He pulled, but something had his hand caught fast. He began to furiously dig with his other hand.

Suddenly, a line in the sand formed from just beyond the hole out to the edge of the water and beyond. He looked on, fascinated, as a long cord pulled from the sand, leading directly to the hole he was digging. Suddenly, the rope pulled tight, and his buried prize was ripped loose from the sand and pulled toward the surf, and he along with it. A jagged hook was lodged through his bloody hand.

Rick tried in vain to stop the momentum, but it was no use. He was pulled toward, and then into the water. He managed one lucid thought before being pulled under, the final thought of his life:

Somewhere down there in the dark, something had its first catch of the day.